Bride Price
Title: Bride Price
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sarek/Amanda
Rating: R for naughtiness and implied violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Given what I've produced here, that's probably for the best.
Warnings: MIRRORVERSE. Though really, for the Mirrorverse this is remarkably tame. Ah, well, it is a Valentine's Day fic.
A/N: Het. I know, I'm surprised, too. But seriously, these two are wicked hot. I feel sort of bad for all the slaves they'll have when they set up house, but mostly I'm distracted by how ADORABLY EVIL they will be.
Summary: Written for this prompt on the Valentine's Day Kink Meme over at issenterprise . It's time to make his intentions crystal clear, and so on this romantic occasion Sarek brings Amanda a gift--perhaps the head of the patheitc human who has also been trying to court her. Amanda just really wants to be claimed by the scary Ambassador.
The gladiatorial combat had been somewhat lackluster, but the food had been excellent. All in all, Amanda reflected as she sat at her dressing table combing the curls from her long, dark hair, the party had been more or less a wash.
Geoffrey had been so excited to show her off, his pretty little eighteen-year-old prize. Play along, her mother had encouraged. Let him think of you as sweet and malleable. By the time he knows better, you'll be married and it will be too late. It was solid advice, she knew. But it was so boring, being forced to play at submission. Especially to a man like Geoffrey who, despite the appearance he liked to project, wouldn't know what to do with a dominant urge if one landed in his lap.
Despite all of that, he was well-placed in the Empire, and Amanda was sure that it would be a simple matter to guide and control his ambition from behind the scenes. She wasn't an important enough person in her own right to rise as far as she would like; marriage was her best chance. Geoffrey was convenient, and an easy conquest. Still . . .
Still.
She couldn’t help but remember the brief moments tonight when she had been able to speak with Ambassador Sarek. This had marked the sixth time they had met, all at some function or another. Always when she was being escorted by Geoffrey, and always when he had stepped away to talk to one of his political contacts. She wasn’t meant to understand politics, and for form’s sake was forced to find her own conversations with which to pass the time.
He had always been the one to approach her. He would have to be; he was the Vulcan Ambassador, and she was eighteen years old and practically engaged. But he had sought her out, and in his company she found it impossible to pretend that she did not have opinions, impossible to keep from voicing them when he fixed her with that intense, penetrating stare. And what was more, he actually listened to what she had to say. He didn’t always agree with her, but he considered her opinions as having actual merit.
Once, she remembered with a tiny thrill, he had conceded her argument as logical.
She wasn’t stupid enough to think that anything would ever come of it. His attention was thrilling, and his conversation was fascinating, but that was all it was. He was Vulcan, and an ambassador, and so far out of her league it was laughable. He only saw her, she was sure, as something of a curiosity. At his age, he almost certainly had a wife back on Vulcan, one with whom he would likely share the fascinating story of the strange little Earth girl who spoke as though her words mattered.
None of which helped to explain why, when she glanced into the mirror, she saw the doors that led to the courtyard standing open and Ambassador Sarek standing inside her room, his eyes fixed on her.
She leapt to her feet, hairbrush clattering to the ground as she spun to face him. Her heart was lodged in her throat and all she could do was stare, wide-eyed, between him and the open door.
“It is unwise to leave your room unlocked,” he said, and the smooth sound of his voice had heat pooling in her stomach. She lifted a hand to her chest, briefly self-conscious of standing there in her nightgown. It wasn’t in her nature to be shy for long, however, and soon enough she let her arm fall again.
“I was under the impression that I was well enough guarded to warrant the risk.” She flicked her gaze towards the courtyard again. “The guards?”
“Incapacitated, but they will recover.” Offering no further explanation, he stepped farther inside. Cool dark eyes swept over the room, dismissing it all with a glance before returning to her. “Your father employs primarily Humans. A tactical error, as what may overcome one will easily overcome the others, as well.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it to him.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “You know that if he catches you in here, ambassador or no, he’ll kill you.”
A single slanted eyebrow lifted, and Amanda would have sworn that he almost looked amused. “Should he care to, he is more than welcome to try. But how would he become alerted to my presence.” He stepped closer, studying her as though she were a particularly interesting lab specimen. “Would you scream?”
Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t stop the question if her life depended on it. “Would that please you?”
Something like approval flashed in his eyes, and he moved away again. “I realize that my actions may seem presumptuous. However, I wished to speak with you and had no desire to waste my time conversing with your parents as a means to do so. The logical solution was to circumvent them entirely.” His gaze held hers, staring into her, through her. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she breathed, and yet, “no. That is, I understand your actions, but not your motives. Why did you want to talk to me?”
“I am unbonded,” he said without ceremony, “and coming to a time when I must choose a wife. While tradition dictates that I choose from among the females of my clan’s closest allies, it has long been my intention to search for an appropriate Human spouse instead. As ambassador to Earth, I believe that it is my duty to promote further interspecies integration within the Empire. Unfortunately, in the past 3.572 years I have met with little success. The Human women that I have met have been tiresome, their minds unfit to join with mine.
“I had been prepared to abandon my search when I met you. Your conversation is stimulating, and you are physically attractive. You also have a significant esper rating for a Human, which would facilitate a bond.”
Amanda, completely floored, simply stood silent for a moment. The Ambassador, having said his piece, seemed content to wait for her reaction. She blinked, replayed what he had just said in her mind, and blinked again.
“I . . . I’m sorry, did you just propose?”
“Not as such. It is my intention to ascertain whether you would be disposed to accept a proposal before moving on to a test of further compatibility.”
“I see.” Amanda considered, though her body was buzzing with excitement. Everything she wanted was being offered to her on a platter, and every instinct she possessed was urging her to give him a definite, unqualified yes. She had to at least attempt to be logical, in her own weak Human way. “I think I’ll have this test of further compatibility first, before I give my answer.”
Definite heat in his eyes then, and he stepped forward until they were only inches apart. “So be it,” he murmured, and reached for her.
One hand curled around the nape of her neck as though to draw her in for a kiss. It wasn’t his lips, however, but his other hand that found her face, settling with swift, unerring purpose across her forehead, cheek and temple. And then . . .
. . . then . . .
His mind is spearing into hers, a near-violent penetration that takes in everything she has, everything she is, and makes it his. He subsumes her, and she can hide nothing, can not so much as wish to. Everything is open to him, each thought and feeling and urge spread out for him to dissect and examine. Her excitement each time they spoke, each time she lay in her bed with her fingers buried deep inside her body and her mind screaming his name as she orgasmed. And then he is there with her in that memory, strong body covering hers and filling her, claiming her, and as he moves he gives her images of the life they will have. A beautiful, elegant home. A new planet, the stark beauty of a desert painted in red and orange and gold. Wealth, and the power that comes with it, and him by her side filling her mind and heart and soul with pride and affection. And Amanda . . .
. . . has never been the type to simply lie back and enjoy. And perhaps, she thinks, he should have opted for one of those insipid psi-null debutantes after all. Because now that he’s opened himself enough to show her those things she can wriggle in and through, and in her mind she twists and pushes until it is Sarek on his back and her straddling him and it is her in his mind, and there, yes, there . . .
Heat, and violence, and single-minded intensity. Pinned to the bed by more-than-human strength as he ruts mindlessly into her, all possession and brutal, animal lust. Bruises blooming over her skin and fierce satisfaction in him at the sight. Taking her in every way imaginable, claiming her so completely that not even the memory of another man can survive.
This is what is waiting at the core of him, beneath the cool detachment. She can hear it call to her. The low, savage rumble of a beast, feral and dangerous, bound by logic but still savage, waiting patiently for its chains to slip. This is what he is, what awaits her, and seeing it, she comes hard around him.
Amanda stumbled back, her breathing ragged and her nipples hard, so wet that she could feel the dampness slipping down her inner thighs. Sarek was staring at her, his face as composed as ever but his pupils blown with undeniable arousal. His gaze swept down her body, and as his nostrils flared she wondered dazedly if he could smell her.
“Your mind is strong,” he said. His voice was rougher than usual, and Amanda felt a desperate throbbing start between her legs. “That is as it should be.” He nodded once, deeply. “I leave to return to Vulcan tomorrow night; I will collect you here and we will depart together.”
“Hold on.” Amanda frowned, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t remember giving you an answer yet. If you want a wife you can push around then you should have looked somewhere else. Besides,” she said, daring to turn her back on him, “I won’t be here a good portion of tomorrow night.”
“Explain,” came the clipped reply.
“I have plans with Geoffrey tomorrow night. It’s Valentine’s Day; he’s had it planned for months. I think he’s going to propose.” She shot a glance over her shoulder, not bothering to hide her amusement. “You know, actually ask me to marry him rather than tell me to.”
Sarek’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Amanda turned to face him fully, every muscle tensed. “Perhaps I have given the mistaken impression,” he said, his voice quiet and all the more terrifying for it, “that I will tolerate competition.”
“Technically, you’re his competition,” she pointed out. “He was here first, after all.”
He was silent for a moment before he nodded. “Your point is a logical one. It seems that I have, indeed, chosen well. If I am a challenger for your hand, then I must endeavor to comport myself in an appropriate manner. I will leave you to sleep.”
Amanda watched him leave without a word, and as soon as the doors closed behind him let herself collapse onto the bed. She had, honestly, expected more of an argument, had been prepared to give in after a reasonable amount of time. This sudden capitulation was both unexpected and suspicious. Perhaps, she mused, he meant to return tomorrow when Geoffrey arrived and formally challenge him. It would certainly be entertaining to watch Geoffrey attempt to defend himself against the Ambassador.
She smiled to herself and drifted to sleep, happily dreaming of Sarek toying with the Human as a cat does a mouse, giving him some measure of hope before snapping him like a twig.
Her happiness had evaporated by the following evening, and she slammed the door behind her as she stormed furiously into her room. Their dinner reservations had been for seven; it was now eight-thirty, and not only hadn’t Sarek showed up as she had half-anticipated, neither had Geoffrey. She had been stood up by not just one but both of her suitors. On Valentine’s Day, no less. The indignity of it all was unbearable.
She tore off her best dress and threw it across the room, stripping down to her underwear as she paced angrily. She would have Geoffrey’s balls for this. He had humiliated her, made her completely lose face with her family, her friends, with society at large when word got out. And Sarek . . . her thoughts stumbled. Maybe she had gone too far, there. He could very well have decided that she was too childish, too Human after all. She was keenly aware that her previously bright prospects could have all been tossed away, and she would have no one to blame but herself. She wasn’t even all that surprised; she should have known that it was too good to be true.
“I see that you have not yet spoken with your father regarding his security team.”
Amanda spun around, her heart nearly exploding out of her chest. Sarek’s eyes were locked on her, blatantly perusing her body as she stood, uncertain what to do or say or even think.
“You will show more attention to your surroundings when we are married,” he said firmly, gaze returning to hers. “Vulcans are, as a species, rather possessive; I would not care for anyone else to see you in such a state.” He lifted an arm, and Amanda finally noticed the canvas bag that he held an instant before he tossed it onto the bed. It landed with a wet thump and rolled to one side. The contents were round and heavy, and the bottom of the bag was soaked through with slowly drying blood. “I have dealt with my competition. Are there any other obstacles that you require me to overcome?”
Amanda reached out, tracing the edge of the bag where it had been tied off. “How did you do it?” she murmured.
“Slowly.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she drew in a ragged breath before she turned back to him. “You leave tonight?”
Sarek stepped close to her, and his fingers reached out to brush softly, gently against hers. “No, ashayam. We do.”
She smiled then, uncaring for Vulcan protocol or reticence when happiness was threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes,” she said. “We do.”