Throwing a Bone (Spock/Nyota R)
Title: Throwing a Bone
Rating: R
Pairing: Spock/Nyota
Summary: Based off this prompt at the st_xt_kink_meme: Spock brings Uhura to the edge of orgasm right before their shifts start, and doesn't finish. Throughout their shift, he's telepathically sending her erotic images through their bond. Finally, when their shift has ended and they're back in their quarters, he teases her some more before finally letting her. I stuck pretty much exactly to it, and I hope the OP is happy with it. :3
Author: k_e_wilson
Warnings: explicit sexual content, emotional!Spock, desperate!Uhura, and general mind-fuckery (literally)
A/N: Okay, so I'm not the best ever at writing Spock, but the mini-Enterprise-Crew living in my mind were all just too fucking pleased for me to not fill this out. This being my first ever Nyota/Spock fic written out, I'd love some feedback (that, you know, doesn't smash my inability to write Spock; I know he's overly emotional here, but c'mon he's mind-fucking Nyota.)
She's writing across the bed, hands digging into the pillows and trying not to cry out as he slowly works her. She knows it's only his fingers, and that it's not the ultimate thing he's ever done- because, really, if she were more like Kirk, she'd have to give that honor to that one time he'd done that thing with his tongue- and he's just jumped her in a none-too-graceful tackle as she stepped into the room to get dressed after a shower.
But nonetheless, Nyota's sprawled across their bed, head thrown back as she tries to urge him on without words, because she can't find any of the goddamn things, even with the dozens of languages she knows, the only sound crawling from the long, gentle slope of her throat is something that might have been her partner's name in it's conception.
Spock does not mind her lack of coherency; the wild passion he feels through the bond is enough to fuel himself with satisfaction as he watches her eyes roll back slightly at one particularly deep thrust of his fingers, overly stimulating both of them.
He is counting seconds somewhere in his mind, though; and he knows they are, as the captain would say 'running behind the eight ball'. They are both due on the bridge in exactly five point three minute's time for their shift. It's when he allows his thumb to brush over that wonderfully sensitive nub, forcing a cry that truly does sound like his name in Vulcan that the plan forms in his mind.
She nearly screams when he suddenly takes away the welcome friction of his fingers, and her eyes blow open in what is clearly a wild mix of confusion and- hilariously to some extent- betrayal. "What--?" Her voice is shaky and unable to finish the question, but he knows it's a feat for her to even get that one sentiment out; the bond is pulling at him, flooding him with the tingling feeling of closegodsoclosepleasefuck that is flooding over Nyota's mind and into his.
"We must depart now for our shift." There is a playful dare hidden in the voice, and he knows she catches it because of the feeling of disbelief that floods to his mind. He allows himself the barest quirking of the lips as he rises from the bed, slowly fixing his own clothing to perfection. She sees the small emotion and he feels her steeling her mind as she rises from the bed, herself. The towel that had originally adorned her body lay sprawled in her wake, a cloying cradle that marked where she'd been writhing moments before as she rushed to clothe herself.
Two point eight minutes later, they are both walking at a brisk pace toward the lifts, the only hints at what they'd been doing shortly before lying in Nyota's slightly tossed hair and the bare tinges of color on both of their faces as they make it to their stations in time for shift.
++++
She's doing a sweep for hailing frequencies on Kirk's orders the first time he does it. The memory of warmth throbbing inside her floods her mind so suddenly that she curls slightly, back arching in pleasure as she tries and nearly fails to restrain the gasp it rips into her throat.
It takes her a minute to gain herself and answer Kirk's questioning gaze with her usual snapping banter, reporting nothing wrong or on the frequencies. She almost doesn't catch the smug curling of her lover's lip as she turns back to her station. The challenge is rolling through the bond in waves and she bites down, determined to earn whatever reward was at the end of this- because, really, that feeling caressing the back of her mind had to be something worth the slow torture of the next six hours.
---
He's never had this much pleasure watching Nyota's form as she moves about.
Sadistic, he realizes, but he's enjoying waiting until just after she's calmed down from each of the imagined sensations and images he's sending her to bombard her with more.
His favorite reaction so far- if he'd allowed himself such illogical things as favorites- would be when he'd focused his mind on sending her the memory of when they had 'played' as master and slave for a time; letting her feel the demanding bite of his hands and the slow build of an orgasm as he'd pumped himself into her on deep, hard thrusts.
The Captain had expressed concern for her well-being almost continually during the shift as he'd sent her his fingers, the fist time they had come together, the first time they'd experimented with the toys, and even this morning. Each time, Spock forced down the feeling of self-satisfaction as Nyota would give a report or an excuse in a harried voice that settled an octave above normal.
He can feel the slow build of annoyance build with the sense of pure need and want until, an hour before the end of shift, he can feel it cascade over into a wild desperation. The tipping point is sending her the feel of himself slipping into her in swift, hard motions as she is mid-sentence to Kirk. Her voice tumbles from it's usual, clipped and easy tone and jumps as her eyes bulge just slightly and she is forced to turn away from the Captain, who is- Spock is sure- beginning to catch on that something is conspiring between Nyota and Spock, himself, if the man's analytical gaze travels between his communications and science officers again and again.
Spock can feel the physical exertion Nyota herself is putting up to restrain herself as the last forty point six eight minutes of their shift draw to a close. He glances over repeatedly to catch her nails biting into her palms as he sends the memory of gentle kisses and little nips all over her body. Just as the last two minutes of shift draw close, he looks over at her directly, ignoring the questioning glare from the Captain as he suddenly, overwhelmingly, floods her mind with images of himself plunging into her with speed and accuracy, bringing her to a screaming precipice before suddenly calling off the image to leave her cold.
The reaction quickly rises to those he'd love to see again. She is left with hands sprawled over her console, eyes blown wide and mouth open in a silent cry. He can see the barest shaking of her legs that tells of an uneven ability to stand as the Beta crew starts to slowly filter in and relieve them of duty. He lingers slightly at his console so that when her replacement comes, he is able to swiftly come beside her and run his fingers down her own slack hand playfully, face still placid- as though he's not just spent six hours slowly driving her into a mental and physical frenzy.
++++
In all honesty, he is somewhat fascinated that she is able to restrain herself until they reach their shared quarters. He is still amused, however, as she breaks just outside the door and drags him inside bodily, allowing for much surprise for the few crew members meandering in the vicinity.
He does not let her maintain control, however, as he steps into the room. Making fast work of pressing her into the wall, allowing no movement as her eyes spew a lava made of intents and need, he is forced to restrain a low growl when she somehow finds words among the jumble of lust and heat in her mind.
"I can't believe you did that." Her voice is low, dragging across his skin just as her nails are doing and he can barely restrain himself enough to slow the motions of his hands as they find the small zipper to her garb and tug it downdowndown until the beautifully deep red material is falling away from even more beautiful brown skin to give him access to her body.
He does not reply verbally, instead sending his own feelings of need through the bond, raising his hand to the psi points on the side of her face; an action that brings her face tilting toward him like a contented terran cat, a sensual smile spreading those beautiful lips as their minds flow completely together, and he impresses into her body the feel of his own penetrating; fingers, cock, tongue.
In only an instant, he has her gasping an writhing and then he's pulling away, leaving her to groan and reach blindly for him. He catches her hands and pins them roughly above her head, leaning down to nip at those coy lips just before they can form the pout he knows they want to. "Mine." His own voice is surprisingly calm, even as he senses the edge of rough need tethered deep in it, but the word is as forceful as a command and has her head dropping back, neck barred to his teeth, and he takes the opprotunity to nip and suck a path from one ear down, leaving marks that will show tomorrow.
He feels her gasp and write against him; seeking his body as her mind reaches out for his own and he can't help the twitch of his lips as he nips harshly at her lips one final time before drawing one hand away to divest himself of the meager barriers between them; his pants and underwear. He doesn't have the patience to deal with his shirt at the moment, the feel of both of their needs crashing over him once again.
Slowly, he positions himself at her entrance before stopping cold, barely allowing his length to drag against the warm heat between her legs, causing her to moan and try to writhe closer to him. He stops her by gently tightening his grip oh her hands and moving himself just barely away from her. She groans at the loss and he allows a feral smile to cross his face.
For a moment, he simply freezes there, taking in her prone form from the writhing body to the eyes blown wide with need and begging.
"T'hy'la."
The word is ripped from his throat, low and rough, and suddenly he surges forward into her, seating himself completely inside of her with a triumphant noise that is drown out by the cry she lets loose.
And then he's moving, the punishing pace forcing him to widen his stance and release her hands to grip her hips. The instant she's free, those hands begin to grapple to remove the shirt that still blocks her skin from his. It's a bit awkward, forcing him to slow slightly and balance her against the wall to allow the clothing to come off of his arms, but the second it's gone, her mouth is biting at him and the pace is back ten fold as he drives himself into her, both of their pleasure growing until her nails are digging into his shoulders, leaving trails of deep green in their wake.
Their orgasms blind side them both; Nyota clenching and screaming out, voice a hoarse cry that fills him and makes his own body spasm in pleasure from the tips of his ears to his curled toes as he lifts violently into her once, twice more.
It's a few moments before he recovers enough to lift her and carry them both to the bed, where the towel from this morning still waits, abandoned. She is grinning up at him, body languid with pleasure and sedate as a cat once more, eyes half-closed as she regards him slowly. "That was..." her voice is low, almost missed but for his Vulcan hearing and he smiles.
He's not sure he's ever seen anything more wonderful than this woman, and he settles beside her, using the towel to clean them both before curling himself around her body, drawing her close.
As she lifts her face to him once more, he lets his hand glance over the psi points on her face, a smile tugging at his lips as he feels her wonder and fondness over the events of the past hours. "I would not be averse to repeating this, either."
It's murmured as he watches her eyes droop shut and a content sigh rustles across his lips, but he knows that it is heard, understood, and will probably come to pass.
He can't think of anything more exciting just then.
Rating: R
Pairing: Spock/Nyota
Summary: Based off this prompt at the st_xt_kink_meme: Spock brings Uhura to the edge of orgasm right before their shifts start, and doesn't finish. Throughout their shift, he's telepathically sending her erotic images through their bond. Finally, when their shift has ended and they're back in their quarters, he teases her some more before finally letting her. I stuck pretty much exactly to it, and I hope the OP is happy with it. :3
Author: k_e_wilson
Warnings: explicit sexual content, emotional!Spock, desperate!Uhura, and general mind-fuckery (literally)
A/N: Okay, so I'm not the best ever at writing Spock, but the mini-Enterprise-Crew living in my mind were all just too fucking pleased for me to not fill this out. This being my first ever Nyota/Spock fic written out, I'd love some feedback (that, you know, doesn't smash my inability to write Spock; I know he's overly emotional here, but c'mon he's mind-fucking Nyota.)
She's writing across the bed, hands digging into the pillows and trying not to cry out as he slowly works her. She knows it's only his fingers, and that it's not the ultimate thing he's ever done- because, really, if she were more like Kirk, she'd have to give that honor to that one time he'd done that thing with his tongue- and he's just jumped her in a none-too-graceful tackle as she stepped into the room to get dressed after a shower.
But nonetheless, Nyota's sprawled across their bed, head thrown back as she tries to urge him on without words, because she can't find any of the goddamn things, even with the dozens of languages she knows, the only sound crawling from the long, gentle slope of her throat is something that might have been her partner's name in it's conception.
Spock does not mind her lack of coherency; the wild passion he feels through the bond is enough to fuel himself with satisfaction as he watches her eyes roll back slightly at one particularly deep thrust of his fingers, overly stimulating both of them.
He is counting seconds somewhere in his mind, though; and he knows they are, as the captain would say 'running behind the eight ball'. They are both due on the bridge in exactly five point three minute's time for their shift. It's when he allows his thumb to brush over that wonderfully sensitive nub, forcing a cry that truly does sound like his name in Vulcan that the plan forms in his mind.
She nearly screams when he suddenly takes away the welcome friction of his fingers, and her eyes blow open in what is clearly a wild mix of confusion and- hilariously to some extent- betrayal. "What--?" Her voice is shaky and unable to finish the question, but he knows it's a feat for her to even get that one sentiment out; the bond is pulling at him, flooding him with the tingling feeling of closegodsoclosepleasefuck that is flooding over Nyota's mind and into his.
"We must depart now for our shift." There is a playful dare hidden in the voice, and he knows she catches it because of the feeling of disbelief that floods to his mind. He allows himself the barest quirking of the lips as he rises from the bed, slowly fixing his own clothing to perfection. She sees the small emotion and he feels her steeling her mind as she rises from the bed, herself. The towel that had originally adorned her body lay sprawled in her wake, a cloying cradle that marked where she'd been writhing moments before as she rushed to clothe herself.
Two point eight minutes later, they are both walking at a brisk pace toward the lifts, the only hints at what they'd been doing shortly before lying in Nyota's slightly tossed hair and the bare tinges of color on both of their faces as they make it to their stations in time for shift.
++++
She's doing a sweep for hailing frequencies on Kirk's orders the first time he does it. The memory of warmth throbbing inside her floods her mind so suddenly that she curls slightly, back arching in pleasure as she tries and nearly fails to restrain the gasp it rips into her throat.
It takes her a minute to gain herself and answer Kirk's questioning gaze with her usual snapping banter, reporting nothing wrong or on the frequencies. She almost doesn't catch the smug curling of her lover's lip as she turns back to her station. The challenge is rolling through the bond in waves and she bites down, determined to earn whatever reward was at the end of this- because, really, that feeling caressing the back of her mind had to be something worth the slow torture of the next six hours.
---
He's never had this much pleasure watching Nyota's form as she moves about.
Sadistic, he realizes, but he's enjoying waiting until just after she's calmed down from each of the imagined sensations and images he's sending her to bombard her with more.
His favorite reaction so far- if he'd allowed himself such illogical things as favorites- would be when he'd focused his mind on sending her the memory of when they had 'played' as master and slave for a time; letting her feel the demanding bite of his hands and the slow build of an orgasm as he'd pumped himself into her on deep, hard thrusts.
The Captain had expressed concern for her well-being almost continually during the shift as he'd sent her his fingers, the fist time they had come together, the first time they'd experimented with the toys, and even this morning. Each time, Spock forced down the feeling of self-satisfaction as Nyota would give a report or an excuse in a harried voice that settled an octave above normal.
He can feel the slow build of annoyance build with the sense of pure need and want until, an hour before the end of shift, he can feel it cascade over into a wild desperation. The tipping point is sending her the feel of himself slipping into her in swift, hard motions as she is mid-sentence to Kirk. Her voice tumbles from it's usual, clipped and easy tone and jumps as her eyes bulge just slightly and she is forced to turn away from the Captain, who is- Spock is sure- beginning to catch on that something is conspiring between Nyota and Spock, himself, if the man's analytical gaze travels between his communications and science officers again and again.
Spock can feel the physical exertion Nyota herself is putting up to restrain herself as the last forty point six eight minutes of their shift draw to a close. He glances over repeatedly to catch her nails biting into her palms as he sends the memory of gentle kisses and little nips all over her body. Just as the last two minutes of shift draw close, he looks over at her directly, ignoring the questioning glare from the Captain as he suddenly, overwhelmingly, floods her mind with images of himself plunging into her with speed and accuracy, bringing her to a screaming precipice before suddenly calling off the image to leave her cold.
The reaction quickly rises to those he'd love to see again. She is left with hands sprawled over her console, eyes blown wide and mouth open in a silent cry. He can see the barest shaking of her legs that tells of an uneven ability to stand as the Beta crew starts to slowly filter in and relieve them of duty. He lingers slightly at his console so that when her replacement comes, he is able to swiftly come beside her and run his fingers down her own slack hand playfully, face still placid- as though he's not just spent six hours slowly driving her into a mental and physical frenzy.
++++
In all honesty, he is somewhat fascinated that she is able to restrain herself until they reach their shared quarters. He is still amused, however, as she breaks just outside the door and drags him inside bodily, allowing for much surprise for the few crew members meandering in the vicinity.
He does not let her maintain control, however, as he steps into the room. Making fast work of pressing her into the wall, allowing no movement as her eyes spew a lava made of intents and need, he is forced to restrain a low growl when she somehow finds words among the jumble of lust and heat in her mind.
"I can't believe you did that." Her voice is low, dragging across his skin just as her nails are doing and he can barely restrain himself enough to slow the motions of his hands as they find the small zipper to her garb and tug it downdowndown until the beautifully deep red material is falling away from even more beautiful brown skin to give him access to her body.
He does not reply verbally, instead sending his own feelings of need through the bond, raising his hand to the psi points on the side of her face; an action that brings her face tilting toward him like a contented terran cat, a sensual smile spreading those beautiful lips as their minds flow completely together, and he impresses into her body the feel of his own penetrating; fingers, cock, tongue.
In only an instant, he has her gasping an writhing and then he's pulling away, leaving her to groan and reach blindly for him. He catches her hands and pins them roughly above her head, leaning down to nip at those coy lips just before they can form the pout he knows they want to. "Mine." His own voice is surprisingly calm, even as he senses the edge of rough need tethered deep in it, but the word is as forceful as a command and has her head dropping back, neck barred to his teeth, and he takes the opprotunity to nip and suck a path from one ear down, leaving marks that will show tomorrow.
He feels her gasp and write against him; seeking his body as her mind reaches out for his own and he can't help the twitch of his lips as he nips harshly at her lips one final time before drawing one hand away to divest himself of the meager barriers between them; his pants and underwear. He doesn't have the patience to deal with his shirt at the moment, the feel of both of their needs crashing over him once again.
Slowly, he positions himself at her entrance before stopping cold, barely allowing his length to drag against the warm heat between her legs, causing her to moan and try to writhe closer to him. He stops her by gently tightening his grip oh her hands and moving himself just barely away from her. She groans at the loss and he allows a feral smile to cross his face.
For a moment, he simply freezes there, taking in her prone form from the writhing body to the eyes blown wide with need and begging.
"T'hy'la."
The word is ripped from his throat, low and rough, and suddenly he surges forward into her, seating himself completely inside of her with a triumphant noise that is drown out by the cry she lets loose.
And then he's moving, the punishing pace forcing him to widen his stance and release her hands to grip her hips. The instant she's free, those hands begin to grapple to remove the shirt that still blocks her skin from his. It's a bit awkward, forcing him to slow slightly and balance her against the wall to allow the clothing to come off of his arms, but the second it's gone, her mouth is biting at him and the pace is back ten fold as he drives himself into her, both of their pleasure growing until her nails are digging into his shoulders, leaving trails of deep green in their wake.
Their orgasms blind side them both; Nyota clenching and screaming out, voice a hoarse cry that fills him and makes his own body spasm in pleasure from the tips of his ears to his curled toes as he lifts violently into her once, twice more.
It's a few moments before he recovers enough to lift her and carry them both to the bed, where the towel from this morning still waits, abandoned. She is grinning up at him, body languid with pleasure and sedate as a cat once more, eyes half-closed as she regards him slowly. "That was..." her voice is low, almost missed but for his Vulcan hearing and he smiles.
He's not sure he's ever seen anything more wonderful than this woman, and he settles beside her, using the towel to clean them both before curling himself around her body, drawing her close.
As she lifts her face to him once more, he lets his hand glance over the psi points on her face, a smile tugging at his lips as he feels her wonder and fondness over the events of the past hours. "I would not be averse to repeating this, either."
It's murmured as he watches her eyes droop shut and a content sigh rustles across his lips, but he knows that it is heard, understood, and will probably come to pass.
He can't think of anything more exciting just then.