Fic for Amadi: "Benefits" (Gaila/Kirk, Uhura/Spock)
Title: Benefits
Recipient:
amadi
Author: penknife
Pairing: Gaila/Kirk, with background Uhura/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: consensual bondage, sex toys
Summary: It's been one of those days, but Gaila's pretty happy anyway.
There's only so long they can keep making excuses to stay in orbit, and the transporter still won't cut through the energy field surrounding the prison on the planet below to beam up the captain and Commander Spock. Scotty looks grim as he tries rewiring the transporter console for the fourth time. Gaila perches at the station that's not dismantled, her fingers flying, reprogramming it so that it will (hopefully) work with the new power configuration.
She is careful not to smile because she knows that will seem like she doesn't care that the situation is serious. She does, but she can't help feeling the familiar euphoria of figuring out how to do something new and important. This is going to work, if not this time then the time after this, and the situation is bad, but there are things she can do to fix it, and she never gets tired of that.
The intercom crackles. "Any news?" Nyota asks. She sounds like she's trying hard to be patient. She's been talking the local authorities out of shooting at them for the better part of the last hour, and Gaila is aware that she would really like them to already have fixed the problem. She doesn't get angry and make demands, though, and Gaila doesn't apologize. Nyota knows they're doing the best they can, and is too sensible to waste time with all that.
"We're about to try again," Gaila says. "Aren't we?"
"Aye, we may as well," Scotty says. "Not that I'm saying it won't blow up."
"Are you saying it will blow up?" Nyota asks. She's clearly trying really hard to be patient.
"I'm not saying that either," Scotty says. "All right, give it a go."
"Here we go," Gaila says, and begins trying to get a transport lock. Scotty sent the transporter technicians on duty out half an hour ago, on the grounds that they were just getting in the way. She thinks for a moment that it might have been a good idea to keep them, but then there's the lock, as solid as she could want.
"I've got it!" she says.
"Beam them up quick," Scotty says. "Before anything does explode."
She taps the last few keys, and the transporter pads sparkle. Jim and Spock materialize, all in one piece and looking bruised but not badly hurt considering that they've spent half the day in a local prison cell. "We've got them," Gaila says to Nyota.
"Great," Nyota says. "I'm running out of polite lies." There's a click, and it's Hikaru on the comm instead.
"Good to have you back, Captain," he says. "Permission to break orbit?"
"Sure," Jim says. "Get us out of here."
Spock comes over to the console, crouching next to it curiously. "That does not seem like a stable configuration--"
"You're telling me," Scotty says, just before the console begins shooting sparks. "Christ! Try and reroute--"
"I will," Gaila says, her hands already moving.
"Report when you're ready," Jim says. "You know where to find me." He heads out, on his way to the bridge, and she nods absently. She doesn't really have time to pay attention at the moment.
She catches up to him at dinner when the shift ends, or at least she is in the mess hall to eat dinner. Jim seems to be poking at the food on his plate with disinterest. It always used to annoy her the way some humans waste food, but she's learned that it's often a sign they're upset.
"Good work," he says. "Nice save."
"Thank you," she says happily. She takes a bite of chicken pie, savoring its weird salty tang. Jim pokes at his own and then begins eating his dessert, even though it is supposed to be eaten after the rest of the meal.
Across the room she sees Nyota and Spock, who have come in at nearly the same time but not together. It's probably the first time they've seen each other since he left for the planet this morning, because she shakes her head at him and smiles just a little, and he gives her a look that somehow manages to show that he's very glad to see her even though he doesn't smile at all. He takes his tray and turns toward her as she looks for open seats. You wouldn't notice if you weren't looking, but if you are, it's like he's a plant turning toward the sun.
She's always found it interesting how Vulcans can make such little movements meaningful, the way he angles his head when she speaks and the way his shoulder relaxes toward hers as they move toward a table. There are tricks there she'd like to learn. Nyota touches his sleeve very lightly as they sit down, not, Gaila thinks, because he needs her to, but because she wants to reassure herself that he's all right.
Jim looks less than all right. He's finished his dessert, and now he's restlessly playing with his fork. There are bruises coloring his cheek, but he doesn't usually mind getting hurt very much, so she thinks it was probably having to sit around waiting for things to happen to him without having anything useful he could do. She understands that.
"Do you want to come to my quarters?" she asks. His eyes snap up to hers, and then he smiles crookedly.
"Without even buying you a drink?"
She understands that's a joke, although she's not sure she understands the joke well enough to make one back. "Yes," she says simply instead.
Now he looks uncomfortable. "We should talk about that."
She waits, and then she realizes that he means talk in privacy. She's not sure how to do that without going back to her quarters, which he will take to mean that they should have sex right away. If she wanted to talk to someone in privacy without having sex with them, she would probably go to the starboard observation lounge. "We could go to the observation lounge," she offers.
"Okay," he says, and she's pleased that she's worked that one out.
It's a small room, and one that most people don't go into when the ship is in warp, because the light that comes in from outside makes it feel like you're seeing colors that don't really exist. Gaila never minds, though, and Jim apparently doesn't either. He looks out for a moment, colors playing across his cheek, and then turns back to her.
"Okay, what was that about?" he asks.
She shrugs. "I thought you might want to have sex. If you don't want to, you can just say no."
He gives her that crooked smile again. "This is a little awkward."
"I'm not still mad," she says, and she's not. She does love Jim -- he's easy to love, if you can get close enough to understand why he wants to fight everybody so much of the time -- but she knows the words means something different to him. She doesn't want to own him.
"It's not that," he says, looking a little surprised, like that was a long time ago instead of less than a year. They've all traveled such a long way since then, and sometimes it's hard to see that far behind them. "But I'm the captain, now, and I wouldn't want you to be under any kind of pressure."
She takes a moment to think that one through. "You mean, you don't want me to feel like I have to have sex with you because you're the captain."
"Pretty much."
"That's really sweet," she says. She thinks Jim is sweet, more often than most people think, but he's usually careful not to show any signs of weakness. She understands that, too.
"If by sweet you mean not really unethical." He shrugs. "And I wouldn't want you to feel like if it didn't work out, I'd do something to get back at you."
"You haven't yet."
"You have a point." He's still hesitating. This command isn't where he ever expected to be, and he's trying hard to do it right. But she can see that he's tempted, maybe less because she's sexually attractive, although she knows that she is, than because he's frustrated and tense and wants to work off the afternoon's tension in some way other than pacing.
"If I tied you up, would you feel less like you were exploiting me?"
He raises his eyebrows at that. "Maybe," he says.
Gaila waits. She's learned how to be patient with people when they're not sure what they want.
"Okay," Jim says. "Let's go back to your quarters."
"Oh, good," she says, smiling. This will be fun, and she thinks maybe it will make him feel better. She'd like that, because he's her friend.
When they get back to her quarters, he looks like he's a little nervous and trying not to be. "Where do you want me?" he says, smiling at her like he's on display. She likes that, likes watching him show off for her as he moves. It's easy to read his body, without any of the careful attention it takes for her to read Spock's.
"You can lie down on the bed," she says, and he sits down and leans back. He starts to tug his shirt off, but she shakes her head, and he shrugs and leaves it on. She likes the contrast of clothes and skin more than the simplicity of nudity. "Take your pants off, though."
He smiles sideways and does it, with enough attitude to make it clear that he's not following orders. That's all right with her. He lies back against her pillows and stretches out his hands. "So, are you really going to tie me up?"
"Yes," Gaila says. She perches on the edge of the bed for a moment and traces lines across his palms with her fingertips, tracing out the circuits she was working on earlier, patterns that please her even if they're meaningless to him. His fingers open and close, a little tensely, his hands tight.
She leans down to open the cabinet where she keeps her sex toys and pulls out the restraints, soft pretty things she bought on Earth. They're bright pink and look cheerful against either green skin or the earth tones of human skin. She straddles him to fasten them neatly to the edges of the bed and then around his wrists. His penis is starting to rise against the fabric of her skirt.
"Yeah, that's …" he breathes, his whole body starting to show his arousal. It's in the way he breathes and the way his eyes are moving as much as in his swelling penis and the way he's starting to rock his hips against the bed.
"You can fight now," she says, and it takes him a moment before he seems to know what she means. He tugs at the restraints, first playfully, then harder. They won't come free. They're pretty things, but they're strong.
He could still kick her, flip her off the bed, but she's sure she would know if he meant to do that an instant before he did. She has other restraints she could use on his ankles, but this seems to be working. She takes her underwear off while she watches him. He struggles against the restraints for a while, his shoulders straining, and then starts to run down.
"Good," she says. "Do you want me to hurt you a little?"
"Maybe," he says, a little raggedly, and then "Yeah. That would be good."
He lifts his chin like he's bracing for a slap, but she runs her fingernails up the inside of his thigh instead, hard enough to leave marks, not green but red against his sandy skin. He twists his hips and frowns as she digs her nails in, his erection flagging a little.
It's not the pain he really likes, she thinks, but the fighting, and she doesn't really want to do that. She slides onto him instead, pinning him down with her weight on his hips, liking the feel of him hardening again inside her. Her pheromones are starting to work on him, easing the tension in his shoulders, and soon enough he won't want to fight. He won't be able to think about anything but release.
She likes the look on his face when it really hits him, like a drug kicking in. She's the drug. She's rocking slowly on him, enjoying the feeling of a building orgasm. "Need to come," he says, "Gaila--"
"Not yet," she says, and stops moving. It's hard to, because she really wants to come, but he's her friend, and she wants to make this good for him, too. He needs to wait longer, build up the tension more so that it'll relax him when it breaks.
She slides off him and goes for the cabinet again.
"Oh, come on, that's not fair--"
"Yes, it is," she says when she's found what she's looking for, and straddles him again, guiding him back inside with her fingers and watching his face twist like it hurts. It's not pain that makes him tense like that when she moves, and when she tightens her muscles inside.
"That's a little more fair," he says.
"I'm glad you think so," she says, and goes still again, her weight on his hips so he can't thrust up into her. She turns on the vibrator, a little candy-colored one that slips over her finger like a second skin, and his eyes widen in surprise.
"What are you going to do with that?"
"Me," Gaila says. "And then you, if you want."
"That's kind of kinky," Jim says.
Gaila just shrugs. She's never sure what humans mean by that, although she's guessing from his tone of voice that Jim means "weird but fun." She flexes her finger to turn the vibrator on, adjusting the speed with the angle of her fingertip, and presses it to her clit. "I want to come," she says. "But I want you to wait."
"Really not fair," Jim says. His voice is getting a little hoarse. She takes a deep breath and angles her hips and presses down hard, feeling herself start to come. It goes on and on, the sharp pleasure of the toy on her clit mixing with the deep pressure inside her, and she can't help moving on him a little.
He moans and tries to fuck her. "Gaila, please. Come on, please--"
She reaches up to press the vibrator to his nipple, crooking her finger tight to make it buzz hard. He groans at that, and so she does it harder. He's sensitive there. His head is back, sweat beading at the hollow of his throat. He's feeling her pheromones strongly now. He'd stay hard pretty much no matter what she did.
She taps her finger against his nipple, once, twice, three times, just enough for him to think he knows what sensation to expect, and then reaches down to press her vibrating fingertip to the base of his penis instead, right where they're joined. He's making a low wordless noise and can't seem to stop. He's struggling again, not to get free but to get closer to her, trying to thrust up inside her.
"Please, I need to do it, oh, please," he says, like he can't stop that either, and she thinks that's what he's needed to say, what he needs to say. He doesn't say please very often, doesn't believe he'll get what he asks for. He doesn't ask anyone to stop hurting him. He doesn't believe they will.
She wants her finger inside him, but it's awkward at this angle, so she just rubs him with it while he begs her. "Fuck me, come on, please --"
She smiles at him, finally, brightly. "Yes," she says, and starts moving on him, fucking hard. She's already close to coming again, and she gets there almost right away, another orgasm shaking through her, shuddering on for what feels like a long time as she thrusts with her hips. She's not trying to be quiet, for a moment not caring what she looks like or what he feels.
He clenches his fists against the restraints, whole body going tight, and then he groans again, and she can hear the note in his voice that says he's going to come.
"Yes," she says again, and then, "you can come now," and he yells and does, gasping like he's been running, like it's a struggle just to breathe.
She slides him and leans forward to unfasten the restraints from his wrists, and then tumbles down beside him. "Are you okay?"
Jim opens his eyes, although for a moment she thinks it's a struggle for him to focus. "I don't like jails," he says. "I got arrested a lot when I was a kid. It was okay -- I mean, it was safe, they didn't let anybody hurt me. But I don't like the part where all you can do is sit around and wait to find out what's going to happen to you."
He snorts something like a laugh. "Spock kept saying it was only logical to wait to be rescued rather than getting ourselves shot trying to escape. He was probably right, but, you know." He runs a hand through his damp hair, putting himself back together. He looks cute in only his uniform shirt with his ass bare, and even more so because right now she doesn't think he knows it. "Bad day at work."
"Better now?" she asks.
He grins at her. "Better," he says, and then the smile turns into an older, more wry look, one that reminds her why she does love him, if not in the way he's afraid of. "I have really great friends."
"You do," she says, and kisses him.
When she comes into the mess hall in the morning, she sees Spock and Nyota eating breakfast together. He is eating oatmeal, and watching her while he does it. She is eating scrambled eggs. There is absolutely nothing that a human would find improper about it. They don't even touch.
Gaila's pretty sure watching them that they spent most of the night having sex. It's the curve of Nyota's mouth and the heat in Spock's eyes as he watches her, and the way he holds his hands. They both look intensely happy.
"There you are," Scotty says, sitting down across from her with his own plate piled high. "I've been thinking about those workarounds we did. I think if we reconfigure the console -- again -- we should be able to pull the same thing off another time without all the …" He makes an expressive hand gesture that she takes to mean "sparks and smoke and things that alarm people."
"Can I help?" Gaila says.
"I wasn't figuring on doing it by myself," Scotty says darkly. "You know, if they'd taken a moment to think when they built the things--"
Gaila's trying not to smile again, because for all that she's trying to be sympathetic as he goes on complaining, she can't help thinking that they have the best job in the world.
Recipient:
amadi
Author: penknife
Pairing: Gaila/Kirk, with background Uhura/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: consensual bondage, sex toys
Summary: It's been one of those days, but Gaila's pretty happy anyway.
There's only so long they can keep making excuses to stay in orbit, and the transporter still won't cut through the energy field surrounding the prison on the planet below to beam up the captain and Commander Spock. Scotty looks grim as he tries rewiring the transporter console for the fourth time. Gaila perches at the station that's not dismantled, her fingers flying, reprogramming it so that it will (hopefully) work with the new power configuration.
She is careful not to smile because she knows that will seem like she doesn't care that the situation is serious. She does, but she can't help feeling the familiar euphoria of figuring out how to do something new and important. This is going to work, if not this time then the time after this, and the situation is bad, but there are things she can do to fix it, and she never gets tired of that.
The intercom crackles. "Any news?" Nyota asks. She sounds like she's trying hard to be patient. She's been talking the local authorities out of shooting at them for the better part of the last hour, and Gaila is aware that she would really like them to already have fixed the problem. She doesn't get angry and make demands, though, and Gaila doesn't apologize. Nyota knows they're doing the best they can, and is too sensible to waste time with all that.
"We're about to try again," Gaila says. "Aren't we?"
"Aye, we may as well," Scotty says. "Not that I'm saying it won't blow up."
"Are you saying it will blow up?" Nyota asks. She's clearly trying really hard to be patient.
"I'm not saying that either," Scotty says. "All right, give it a go."
"Here we go," Gaila says, and begins trying to get a transport lock. Scotty sent the transporter technicians on duty out half an hour ago, on the grounds that they were just getting in the way. She thinks for a moment that it might have been a good idea to keep them, but then there's the lock, as solid as she could want.
"I've got it!" she says.
"Beam them up quick," Scotty says. "Before anything does explode."
She taps the last few keys, and the transporter pads sparkle. Jim and Spock materialize, all in one piece and looking bruised but not badly hurt considering that they've spent half the day in a local prison cell. "We've got them," Gaila says to Nyota.
"Great," Nyota says. "I'm running out of polite lies." There's a click, and it's Hikaru on the comm instead.
"Good to have you back, Captain," he says. "Permission to break orbit?"
"Sure," Jim says. "Get us out of here."
Spock comes over to the console, crouching next to it curiously. "That does not seem like a stable configuration--"
"You're telling me," Scotty says, just before the console begins shooting sparks. "Christ! Try and reroute--"
"I will," Gaila says, her hands already moving.
"Report when you're ready," Jim says. "You know where to find me." He heads out, on his way to the bridge, and she nods absently. She doesn't really have time to pay attention at the moment.
She catches up to him at dinner when the shift ends, or at least she is in the mess hall to eat dinner. Jim seems to be poking at the food on his plate with disinterest. It always used to annoy her the way some humans waste food, but she's learned that it's often a sign they're upset.
"Good work," he says. "Nice save."
"Thank you," she says happily. She takes a bite of chicken pie, savoring its weird salty tang. Jim pokes at his own and then begins eating his dessert, even though it is supposed to be eaten after the rest of the meal.
Across the room she sees Nyota and Spock, who have come in at nearly the same time but not together. It's probably the first time they've seen each other since he left for the planet this morning, because she shakes her head at him and smiles just a little, and he gives her a look that somehow manages to show that he's very glad to see her even though he doesn't smile at all. He takes his tray and turns toward her as she looks for open seats. You wouldn't notice if you weren't looking, but if you are, it's like he's a plant turning toward the sun.
She's always found it interesting how Vulcans can make such little movements meaningful, the way he angles his head when she speaks and the way his shoulder relaxes toward hers as they move toward a table. There are tricks there she'd like to learn. Nyota touches his sleeve very lightly as they sit down, not, Gaila thinks, because he needs her to, but because she wants to reassure herself that he's all right.
Jim looks less than all right. He's finished his dessert, and now he's restlessly playing with his fork. There are bruises coloring his cheek, but he doesn't usually mind getting hurt very much, so she thinks it was probably having to sit around waiting for things to happen to him without having anything useful he could do. She understands that.
"Do you want to come to my quarters?" she asks. His eyes snap up to hers, and then he smiles crookedly.
"Without even buying you a drink?"
She understands that's a joke, although she's not sure she understands the joke well enough to make one back. "Yes," she says simply instead.
Now he looks uncomfortable. "We should talk about that."
She waits, and then she realizes that he means talk in privacy. She's not sure how to do that without going back to her quarters, which he will take to mean that they should have sex right away. If she wanted to talk to someone in privacy without having sex with them, she would probably go to the starboard observation lounge. "We could go to the observation lounge," she offers.
"Okay," he says, and she's pleased that she's worked that one out.
It's a small room, and one that most people don't go into when the ship is in warp, because the light that comes in from outside makes it feel like you're seeing colors that don't really exist. Gaila never minds, though, and Jim apparently doesn't either. He looks out for a moment, colors playing across his cheek, and then turns back to her.
"Okay, what was that about?" he asks.
She shrugs. "I thought you might want to have sex. If you don't want to, you can just say no."
He gives her that crooked smile again. "This is a little awkward."
"I'm not still mad," she says, and she's not. She does love Jim -- he's easy to love, if you can get close enough to understand why he wants to fight everybody so much of the time -- but she knows the words means something different to him. She doesn't want to own him.
"It's not that," he says, looking a little surprised, like that was a long time ago instead of less than a year. They've all traveled such a long way since then, and sometimes it's hard to see that far behind them. "But I'm the captain, now, and I wouldn't want you to be under any kind of pressure."
She takes a moment to think that one through. "You mean, you don't want me to feel like I have to have sex with you because you're the captain."
"Pretty much."
"That's really sweet," she says. She thinks Jim is sweet, more often than most people think, but he's usually careful not to show any signs of weakness. She understands that, too.
"If by sweet you mean not really unethical." He shrugs. "And I wouldn't want you to feel like if it didn't work out, I'd do something to get back at you."
"You haven't yet."
"You have a point." He's still hesitating. This command isn't where he ever expected to be, and he's trying hard to do it right. But she can see that he's tempted, maybe less because she's sexually attractive, although she knows that she is, than because he's frustrated and tense and wants to work off the afternoon's tension in some way other than pacing.
"If I tied you up, would you feel less like you were exploiting me?"
He raises his eyebrows at that. "Maybe," he says.
Gaila waits. She's learned how to be patient with people when they're not sure what they want.
"Okay," Jim says. "Let's go back to your quarters."
"Oh, good," she says, smiling. This will be fun, and she thinks maybe it will make him feel better. She'd like that, because he's her friend.
When they get back to her quarters, he looks like he's a little nervous and trying not to be. "Where do you want me?" he says, smiling at her like he's on display. She likes that, likes watching him show off for her as he moves. It's easy to read his body, without any of the careful attention it takes for her to read Spock's.
"You can lie down on the bed," she says, and he sits down and leans back. He starts to tug his shirt off, but she shakes her head, and he shrugs and leaves it on. She likes the contrast of clothes and skin more than the simplicity of nudity. "Take your pants off, though."
He smiles sideways and does it, with enough attitude to make it clear that he's not following orders. That's all right with her. He lies back against her pillows and stretches out his hands. "So, are you really going to tie me up?"
"Yes," Gaila says. She perches on the edge of the bed for a moment and traces lines across his palms with her fingertips, tracing out the circuits she was working on earlier, patterns that please her even if they're meaningless to him. His fingers open and close, a little tensely, his hands tight.
She leans down to open the cabinet where she keeps her sex toys and pulls out the restraints, soft pretty things she bought on Earth. They're bright pink and look cheerful against either green skin or the earth tones of human skin. She straddles him to fasten them neatly to the edges of the bed and then around his wrists. His penis is starting to rise against the fabric of her skirt.
"Yeah, that's …" he breathes, his whole body starting to show his arousal. It's in the way he breathes and the way his eyes are moving as much as in his swelling penis and the way he's starting to rock his hips against the bed.
"You can fight now," she says, and it takes him a moment before he seems to know what she means. He tugs at the restraints, first playfully, then harder. They won't come free. They're pretty things, but they're strong.
He could still kick her, flip her off the bed, but she's sure she would know if he meant to do that an instant before he did. She has other restraints she could use on his ankles, but this seems to be working. She takes her underwear off while she watches him. He struggles against the restraints for a while, his shoulders straining, and then starts to run down.
"Good," she says. "Do you want me to hurt you a little?"
"Maybe," he says, a little raggedly, and then "Yeah. That would be good."
He lifts his chin like he's bracing for a slap, but she runs her fingernails up the inside of his thigh instead, hard enough to leave marks, not green but red against his sandy skin. He twists his hips and frowns as she digs her nails in, his erection flagging a little.
It's not the pain he really likes, she thinks, but the fighting, and she doesn't really want to do that. She slides onto him instead, pinning him down with her weight on his hips, liking the feel of him hardening again inside her. Her pheromones are starting to work on him, easing the tension in his shoulders, and soon enough he won't want to fight. He won't be able to think about anything but release.
She likes the look on his face when it really hits him, like a drug kicking in. She's the drug. She's rocking slowly on him, enjoying the feeling of a building orgasm. "Need to come," he says, "Gaila--"
"Not yet," she says, and stops moving. It's hard to, because she really wants to come, but he's her friend, and she wants to make this good for him, too. He needs to wait longer, build up the tension more so that it'll relax him when it breaks.
She slides off him and goes for the cabinet again.
"Oh, come on, that's not fair--"
"Yes, it is," she says when she's found what she's looking for, and straddles him again, guiding him back inside with her fingers and watching his face twist like it hurts. It's not pain that makes him tense like that when she moves, and when she tightens her muscles inside.
"That's a little more fair," he says.
"I'm glad you think so," she says, and goes still again, her weight on his hips so he can't thrust up into her. She turns on the vibrator, a little candy-colored one that slips over her finger like a second skin, and his eyes widen in surprise.
"What are you going to do with that?"
"Me," Gaila says. "And then you, if you want."
"That's kind of kinky," Jim says.
Gaila just shrugs. She's never sure what humans mean by that, although she's guessing from his tone of voice that Jim means "weird but fun." She flexes her finger to turn the vibrator on, adjusting the speed with the angle of her fingertip, and presses it to her clit. "I want to come," she says. "But I want you to wait."
"Really not fair," Jim says. His voice is getting a little hoarse. She takes a deep breath and angles her hips and presses down hard, feeling herself start to come. It goes on and on, the sharp pleasure of the toy on her clit mixing with the deep pressure inside her, and she can't help moving on him a little.
He moans and tries to fuck her. "Gaila, please. Come on, please--"
She reaches up to press the vibrator to his nipple, crooking her finger tight to make it buzz hard. He groans at that, and so she does it harder. He's sensitive there. His head is back, sweat beading at the hollow of his throat. He's feeling her pheromones strongly now. He'd stay hard pretty much no matter what she did.
She taps her finger against his nipple, once, twice, three times, just enough for him to think he knows what sensation to expect, and then reaches down to press her vibrating fingertip to the base of his penis instead, right where they're joined. He's making a low wordless noise and can't seem to stop. He's struggling again, not to get free but to get closer to her, trying to thrust up inside her.
"Please, I need to do it, oh, please," he says, like he can't stop that either, and she thinks that's what he's needed to say, what he needs to say. He doesn't say please very often, doesn't believe he'll get what he asks for. He doesn't ask anyone to stop hurting him. He doesn't believe they will.
She wants her finger inside him, but it's awkward at this angle, so she just rubs him with it while he begs her. "Fuck me, come on, please --"
She smiles at him, finally, brightly. "Yes," she says, and starts moving on him, fucking hard. She's already close to coming again, and she gets there almost right away, another orgasm shaking through her, shuddering on for what feels like a long time as she thrusts with her hips. She's not trying to be quiet, for a moment not caring what she looks like or what he feels.
He clenches his fists against the restraints, whole body going tight, and then he groans again, and she can hear the note in his voice that says he's going to come.
"Yes," she says again, and then, "you can come now," and he yells and does, gasping like he's been running, like it's a struggle just to breathe.
She slides him and leans forward to unfasten the restraints from his wrists, and then tumbles down beside him. "Are you okay?"
Jim opens his eyes, although for a moment she thinks it's a struggle for him to focus. "I don't like jails," he says. "I got arrested a lot when I was a kid. It was okay -- I mean, it was safe, they didn't let anybody hurt me. But I don't like the part where all you can do is sit around and wait to find out what's going to happen to you."
He snorts something like a laugh. "Spock kept saying it was only logical to wait to be rescued rather than getting ourselves shot trying to escape. He was probably right, but, you know." He runs a hand through his damp hair, putting himself back together. He looks cute in only his uniform shirt with his ass bare, and even more so because right now she doesn't think he knows it. "Bad day at work."
"Better now?" she asks.
He grins at her. "Better," he says, and then the smile turns into an older, more wry look, one that reminds her why she does love him, if not in the way he's afraid of. "I have really great friends."
"You do," she says, and kisses him.
When she comes into the mess hall in the morning, she sees Spock and Nyota eating breakfast together. He is eating oatmeal, and watching her while he does it. She is eating scrambled eggs. There is absolutely nothing that a human would find improper about it. They don't even touch.
Gaila's pretty sure watching them that they spent most of the night having sex. It's the curve of Nyota's mouth and the heat in Spock's eyes as he watches her, and the way he holds his hands. They both look intensely happy.
"There you are," Scotty says, sitting down across from her with his own plate piled high. "I've been thinking about those workarounds we did. I think if we reconfigure the console -- again -- we should be able to pull the same thing off another time without all the …" He makes an expressive hand gesture that she takes to mean "sparks and smoke and things that alarm people."
"Can I help?" Gaila says.
"I wasn't figuring on doing it by myself," Scotty says darkly. "You know, if they'd taken a moment to think when they built the things--"
Gaila's trying not to smile again, because for all that she's trying to be sympathetic as he goes on complaining, she can't help thinking that they have the best job in the world.