Fic: Lies in Silence Chapter Twenty-Seven
LIES IN SILENCE CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Twenty-Seven): 3841
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash, torture.
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Stains of Betrayal Burn
I hesitate at his door-the Commander’s door. My hands are shaking, bloodied. The Emperor is dead. I killed the man. And I killed Robau. I should run; I shouldn’t be back here.
I can’t.
I should be feeling more guilt than I do.
I already know I can’t. Even if it puts me in further danger, I can’t. I can’t run.
I feel so cold.
Everything’s about to change. I am the assassin of the Emperor. The murderer of Richard Robau. When the sun rises and the dead body of this Empire’s leader is discovered, everything will change.
I can’t stay here.
Tears burn my eyes.
I don’t know where I will go. Where I will go to escape this place, but I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with Spock. It can’t happen. If I stay here, he will be in just as much danger as I will be. He’s already done his part; he’s already protected me when he didn’t have to, when he should have turned me in. There will be questions. Who was the last person to see the Emperor, Robau? If I stay, the Commander is in danger. Because he will protect me. That’s what he promised me so many months ago when he first took me on that desk in that office in the broken down building, slipping inside me, pressing against me, burying himself so far within.
There’s a witness. I have been spotted. I am already in jeopardy. I can’t trust Cadet Kirk. How can I? He’s so trivial, so insignificant. A cadet. He can’t help me.
He let me pass. Told me how to escape.
I can’t question it. I can’t focus on it. Because right now, it doesn’t matter. It won’t matter. It’s only a matter of hours before the bodies are discovered. If they haven’t been already.
The Commander promised me he would protect me. He promised.
But would he be willing to continue with it if he knew what I did? If he knew of the men I have murdered?
No. Assassinated. Executed.
They needed to be put down.
How will it change anything?
The door slides open and I enter.
It’s dark-of course, it’s dark; it was when I left. I move through the halls quietly. I peer into the bedroom. Spock is there, his form lying upon the bed. I head to the bathroom. The door closes and the room is bathed in the harsh lighting. It temporarily blinds me and I slam my eyes closed. But slowly, I grow used to the light and open them again. On the counter, the small dermal repair kit sits; it’s been used. I peer at myself in the mirror.
I’m a mess. Plain and simple. My uniform is askew, rumpled, and torn. My hair is a tangled mess. My hands and face stained with their blood. I tear the uniform off, disgusted at myself, at Robau, and at the Emperor.
They screamed.
I relished in them.
Became possessed. Uncontrollable. Set on one thing.
I stand before the mirror, naked. I am marked by the Emperor’s touch; a harsh ring of fingertip bruises around my neck, my collarbone. There are probably plenty of women in this Empire that would envy me for the sexual act he wanted me to engage in, the privilege of being with our great and powerful leader. But he disgusted me. He and Robau. They disgusted me when their shared laughter, bawd exclamations of what they had planned for me while I stood by, silent and shaking.
They got what they deserved.
I need to get rid of the blood. I turn the shower on and step in. It’s hot, scalding, but that’s okay. I want to burn the man’s touch from my body.
In the next room, Spock sleeps and I am in here, struggling futilely to rid myself of another man’s scent. It feels like betrayal. At some point, Spock and I have become something more. An understanding has formed between us. I don’t know when it happened. Or how it happened. He has not touched sexually me since that incident outside the Wall, fearing another emotional breakdown from me. He wanted me to heal. I’m grateful for that. But, now, I have that man-that Emperor’s touch searing into my skin. I want to forget it.
I scrub myself clean. The blood is gone, swirling down the drain. I turn the shower off and towel myself dry.
I enter the bedroom, where he still sleeps. He does not know that I left. Or, at least, I hope that he doesn’t.
I crawl into the bed, naked.
Spock curls an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, my back to his chest; I release a small gasp. He breathes into my ear, “You’ve returned.” His voice is rough with sleep.
I freeze, my body growing rigid.
“I do not require knowledge as to your whereabouts. I am merely thankful you have rejoined me.”
I nod. “Me, too.” I ignore the tears pooling in my eyes. Tomorrow, I will have to run.
The next morning, everything will be different.
Spock is awake before me. That’s not unusual. I wake alone and throw the covers from my body. I grab his folded undershirt from the chair near the door and, pulling it on, exit.
Spock’s seated at his desk, fingers steepled before his mouth. He’s lost in thought. When I enter, he glances at me then returns his gaze ahead. “The Emperor and another man have been murdered.”
My heart pounds in my chest, echoing in my ears. Does he know? Does he know that I was the one that did it? “H-how?”
“I am not familiar with the details as of yet, though Captain Pike informed me that the men looked like ‘minced meat.’”
My heart seizes in my chest, my breath halts. Does he know? Does he know that I took a knife, sharpened to the finest point, and slid it into their bodies, watching it slice through their skin like thin paper? Does he know that I didn’t care when they cried out?
“I am more concerned with the security breach within my office.”
“S-security breach?”
He nods. “Yes. As Commander of the Special Forces, I am the only one who was entrusted with knowledge of the Emperor’s whereabouts. They were to be secret while he was in town for the impending graduation ceremony. It appears that I have a soldier guilty of treason.” His words are stilted, unnatural. Rehearsed. He’d been sitting at that desk for who knows how long, waiting for me to wake. To corner me, force a confession?
My eyes dart across the room, jumping from one side to the other before finally resting on his again. His gaze is level with mine, unwavering. He pushes himself away from his desk, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s in that instant that I know.
He knows.
He knows that I’m the one who killed the Emperor. Robau. I sliced his throat; I stabbed his chest. I stabbed and I stabbed. I did it. Tears sting my eyes. “I-I-”
They deserved it.
He stands and approaches me, placing his hands behind his back.
I can’t look at him anymore. “I...I have to go. I can’t stay here.”
He closes the gap between us and raises my chin with his hand, fingers brushing across my flesh. “Where will you go?” How can he ask me that? He was the one who initially told me to escape, who told me I didn’t belong here. Who also told me he would help me escape. And now, he questions where I’m going, how I’m going.
The tears fall and I shiver, fear pumping through my veins. “I don’t know.” I sob, my breath rushing out of my lungs. I want to lie. I want to say that an escape route has been planned for my eventual need. I want to say that it was planned for me to run away after I completed my orders. That I was to escape from the boundaries of the Academy, that a shuttlecraft would be waiting for me on the other side, ready to take me to a hideout. But I can’t. I can’t lie to him. Because...
Because of so many reasons. Because he’d be able to see-feel-straight through it, his fingers brushing my face.
Pike knows it was me. Is he planning on my escape route? Is he-
No. I need to stop kidding myself. There is no escape route. I’m the pawn in their game. I’m the scapegoat. I’ve got nowhere to go. Another sob escapes my lips. Robau wasn’t planning on getting me out. He didn’t care. He said he loved me. He made a mistake.
“It will be...all right?” Even as the Commander says those words, he questions them, his voice raises slightly on the final syllable. Even as he says those words, they feel like a lie. It won’t be all right. Okay. It will never be okay. He can try to protect me but for how much longer? How much longer until his loyalty is called into question again, until he no longer desires me, until he no longer wishes to harbor a secret?
Even Spock doesn’t believe his own words.
It won’t be okay. I’m a marked woman. Now, more than ever.
“I have to go now.” The words fall from my lips, tumbling down to hang between us. To hover. I can’t rely on him. I couldn’t rely on Robau. I am truly alone now.
“You cannot.” He shakes his head, cupping my face with his hands.
“I have to.”
He shakes his head again. He kisses me.
I gasp, pulling away from him. “No. I can’t. I have to leave.”
His fingers brush my temples. I relax. “Nyota. Please, postpone your exit.”
I shake my head. “I-I can’t.”
“You can.” He rests his forehead against mine; one hand drifts down my side, the underside of my breast, before wrapping around my waist. “If you are uncomfortable, tell me to stop.”
He’s offering me a choice. A choice to decide if I want to do this. If I want to allow him inside my body. A choice to erase Robau’s touch, the Emperor’s touch. Tears burn my eyes and they slide close and I bring my hands up to frame his face, pulling him closer, raising myself on my toes. I press my lips to his. I’m not going to think. I’m not going to analyze this. I’m just going to feel. I open my mouth and he slips his tongue in to mingle with mine. His other hand drop to my waist and he presses his body against mine. I bring my arms up and wrap them around his neck.
“Make me forget, please.” Words whispered against his lips.
Spock makes quick work of my robe, shedding it from my body, letting it fall to the ground. His hand drifts downward and cups me. I moan into his mouth and he rubs his fingers against my clit.
It feels-I can’t-I grow wet.
I pull at his uniform. I need him. I need him so badly. I haven’t felt his touch in a month. I haven’t felt him inside me. I want Robau’s touch gone. I want the Emperor’s touch gone.
Spock pulls away long enough to rid himself of the blue top and the golden sash.
My hands skirt across his chest; he gasps, jerking his body away. Small burn-like injuries on his chest. “Spock?”
He grabs my hands in his. “Do not concern yourself with it. They are minor injuries.” He picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.
I arch my back, rising from the soft mattress and pressing my breasts against his chest. He pushes deep within me, moving slowly, thrusting languidly. I mewl and my hands run across the flesh of his back to his neck, mussing the dark short hair. I tease the pointed tips of his ears, brushing my fingertips across them; he shivers. I cup his face between my hands and bring his lips to mine.
We are so close.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. It's not enough. It's never enough. I need him. I need him so far, so deep within me, I can't tell where I end and he begins. We are one.
He twists his hips and I moan into his mouth, intertwining my tongue with his. He groans and delivers a sharp deep thrust, grinding his pubic bone against mine. It's unexpected and I break the kiss, crying out, panting loudly. My fingers tighten against his shoulders, grounding myself when his thrusts grow more powerful.
I am so close.
This is blissful, pleasurable. It’s not ugly, sinister, painful. There is no fear, no shame.
He presses his forehead against mine, his body against mine, pushing me into the mattress beneath me. His breathes heavily, small pants escaping his lips, in rhythm with his thrusts. He's close, too.
I can feel my body tense, growing rigid as my climax nears.
I cry out.
Suddenly, he stops thrusting and pulls away from my body, sitting back on his haunches. My eyes open and search feverishly for his. He does not speak but reaches down, wrapping his hands around me. He pulls me up, to sit on his lap. One arm wrapped around my hips, he encourages me to move. To take control.
I do so. Slowly. Carefully. Wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, I begin to move.
His moans and my own cries tell me I'm doing it right. I move up and down, circle my hips. I meet his eyes and our gaze holds.
I arch my back, tossing my head back, and close my eyes, dislodging my gaze from his. So close. A few more thrusts. My long hair dances against my back, skirting across his thighs. He moans.
I increase the speed of my movements. Desperation for that sweet release drives me. I moan, whimper, and my breath comes in pants. He drops his head to my chest, taking one of my breasts in his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue. His lips, his teeth tweak my nipple into a tight bud, driving me further. He moves to my other breast.
God, I need release. Why hasn't it come yet?
My body is tense and I feel release on the horizon, but it hasn't arrived yet. I keen, the noise bouncing off the walls and dancing with the slapping sounds of our flesh, and my thrusts become uneven, desperate. I grind my clit against his pubic bone and, gripping his arms, I lean further backwards and arch my back more, tightening around him, squeezing him deep within me.
He cries out, tightening his grip on my hips; he’s lost any semblance of Vulcan stoic calmness. He pulls me up, pressing me against his chest, and rests his forehead against mine. He kisses me, our tongues intermingling. I groan into his mouth, my movements on his cock never ceasing. A hand squeezes the flesh of my hip, propelling me onward. He brushes his other hand across my temple, pressing his fingers gently against my skin.
And, tearing my lips from his, I come with a scream, convulsing around his cock.
Spock groans against my neck, his hands tightening around my hips, holding me still. He breathes deeply, slowly.
He hasn’t come yet.
He kisses me again, running his tongue across my lips. He grips my hips and lifts me up and down on his cock. I moan into his mouth and restart my rhythm. His hands drift from my hips up my back to cup my face. He pants into my mouth, groaning.
Spock tightens his grip on my waist and moves us, propelling me backwards onto my back once more. I grab his shoulders and he increases the speed of his thrusts.
I cry out, throwing my head back, my eyes closing. I can feel another orgasm fast approaching.
He kisses my throat, lathering me with kisses and his lips move upwards toward mine. He slams his cock into me, grinding his pubic bone against my clit with each thrust. He captures my cry with his lips.
I come again. My pussy tightens around his cock and he grunts, never ceasing his thrusts. My eyes roll backward and I arch my back.
He quickly follows me, gripping my hips. His thrusts, uneven, jerky. He collapses against me, his weight oddly comforting, and kisses me. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. What can we say? I have killed the Emperor-and Robau; would he see me punished for that murder, or is it ‘an eye for an eye’?-and he knows it. But he will keep quiet; he will allow me to run. Won’t he? I just don’t know where I’m going. God. Where am I going to go?
He breaks the kiss and brushes the hair out of my face, cupping my cheeks. He rests his forehead against mine and takes a slow breath.
Tears burn in the back of my eyes and I close them. I don’t want them to fall.
Our final moment.
This is a moment I should have yearned for, something I should have prayed for. But it’s here now and I don’t want it. Because I will be alone when this moment is done. And I don’t want that.
He places another kiss on my lips and brushes the hair from my face. “I am sorry, Nyota.” The words are spoken with such emotion, with such poignancy that I have never heard from him before.
I open my eyes, searching for his, but he refuses to meet my gaze. “Spock?” I want to cringe at the weakness of my voice. I’m not weak. Not any longer.
“I am under strict orders.”
There’s a yell outside the room and the door slides open and men rush in. Spock is grabbed from behind and pulled away from me.
I scream, exposed to these strangers. They hold their phaser rifles towards me, at Spock, heedless of our nudity. Seeing my body, the soldiers grin and their eyes, their hands slither across my body. I tremble, fear pulsating through my veins, and I try to get away. Away from their touch, them.
But one of them slams his fist into the side of my head and I stumble, falling back onto the bed. Dazed.
The soldier grabs my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat, and hauls me back up, pressing me into his chest. His free hand skitters across my breasts, his fingers sinking into my flesh, bruising.
I wince.
Spock, despite how illogical it is, fights the men holding him, tearing his arms free from their grips. He takes a step forward, towards me and my captor.
Another soldier steps forward and slams the butt of his phaser rifle into Spock’s face and he falls to his knees.
I cry out, my hands grabbing at my captor’s where they tightened around my throat. He fights with me, pinning my arms behind my arching back with a strong hand, my breasts jutting out for the men to gaze at, to reach out and touch if they desire, as his other hand tightens around my neck in such a way that I will bruise. And I can’t fight them or their fingers.
“What are you doing? Attacking a Starfleet officer?”
That voice. I know that voice. My eyes drift from Spock, who spits emerald green blood onto the floor, but otherwise does nothing.
The soldiers part like the Red Sea. And Captain Pike, Admiral Barnett, and-
-And Cadet Kirk-
And Kirk enters.
I gasp. The men tighten their grip on me, squeezing my arms.
Admiral Barnett approaches me, glaring at my nude body, my thighs still slick with Spock and my combined fluids, with sweat. His eyes linger there before briefly drifting to Spock, eying his equally nude body. Barnett looks at the men holding Spock’s arm. “I think we can let him go, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” The men release Spock, who looks at me, then at the other men, at Kirk, Pike and Barnett.
“May I ask the meaning of this interruption, Admiral?”
Barnett chuckles. “You damn well know why we’re here, Commander.” His hand snaps out and grabs my hair, forcing my head back and causing me to cry out in pain, in fear. “Is this the whore you saw leaving the Emperor’s hotel room, Cadet?” He looks at Kirk.
My eyes meet Kirk’s. My heart pounds in my chest. Why? Why is he here? He let me go. Why is the Admiral asking him that question? Is he going to-
“Yes, sir. That’s the dirty little whore I saw him with.” He doesn’t meet my gaze, but he smiles.
My heart drops a mile in my stomach. He didn’t see me with him. He saw me leaving the turbolift. Circumstantial evidence, my brain screams. Circumstantial, at best. But it’s my word-a woman’s word-against his-a man. They will not believe me. My breath comes in pants, hyperventilating. I’m going to die.
It was the plan. I wasn’t meant to escape.
The Admiral approaches Spock. “Good job, Commander, with detaining the suspect until we were able to arrive.”
Tears spring into my eyes and I look at Spock. I am sorry. I’m under orders. His words mock me. It - it was nothing. It was a diversion. Something to keep me here until they arrived. He betrayed me. He drops his eyes from mine. No. He wouldn’t. “Sp-” My voice breaks off.
“You will find her clothing in the bathroom, should you need it for evidence.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Barnett turns to the soldiers and orders them to retrieve my uniform. He turns to face me. “In the meantime, we will escort Miss-”
“Uhura,” Spock supplies.
I can’t think. I can’t do anything. He turned me in? He promised. He promised he would help me escape. He promised he would keep me safe. He promised to lie for me.
“-Miss Uhura here to Special Forces Headquarters, where she will await your next move, Commander.”
“Spock?” My voice is a tiny whisper. My heart has been shattered.
He doesn’t look at me; instead, he focuses his attention on the men. “Of course, Admiral.” He turns to Pike. “Thank you for alerting me to the situation, Captain Pike.”
My hearing fades until I can only hear the rushing of my blood through veins. Blood that will not flow for much longer.
Oh, God. No. No. No.
I can’t say anything. I can’t do anything. I’m going to die. But Spock’s already killed me. I’m already dead.
They drag me from his apartment, naked and frightened, tears streaming down my face.
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Twenty-Seven): 3841
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash, torture.
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Stains of Betrayal Burn
I hesitate at his door-the Commander’s door. My hands are shaking, bloodied. The Emperor is dead. I killed the man. And I killed Robau. I should run; I shouldn’t be back here.
I can’t.
I should be feeling more guilt than I do.
I already know I can’t. Even if it puts me in further danger, I can’t. I can’t run.
I feel so cold.
Everything’s about to change. I am the assassin of the Emperor. The murderer of Richard Robau. When the sun rises and the dead body of this Empire’s leader is discovered, everything will change.
I can’t stay here.
Tears burn my eyes.
I don’t know where I will go. Where I will go to escape this place, but I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with Spock. It can’t happen. If I stay here, he will be in just as much danger as I will be. He’s already done his part; he’s already protected me when he didn’t have to, when he should have turned me in. There will be questions. Who was the last person to see the Emperor, Robau? If I stay, the Commander is in danger. Because he will protect me. That’s what he promised me so many months ago when he first took me on that desk in that office in the broken down building, slipping inside me, pressing against me, burying himself so far within.
There’s a witness. I have been spotted. I am already in jeopardy. I can’t trust Cadet Kirk. How can I? He’s so trivial, so insignificant. A cadet. He can’t help me.
He let me pass. Told me how to escape.
I can’t question it. I can’t focus on it. Because right now, it doesn’t matter. It won’t matter. It’s only a matter of hours before the bodies are discovered. If they haven’t been already.
The Commander promised me he would protect me. He promised.
But would he be willing to continue with it if he knew what I did? If he knew of the men I have murdered?
No. Assassinated. Executed.
They needed to be put down.
How will it change anything?
The door slides open and I enter.
It’s dark-of course, it’s dark; it was when I left. I move through the halls quietly. I peer into the bedroom. Spock is there, his form lying upon the bed. I head to the bathroom. The door closes and the room is bathed in the harsh lighting. It temporarily blinds me and I slam my eyes closed. But slowly, I grow used to the light and open them again. On the counter, the small dermal repair kit sits; it’s been used. I peer at myself in the mirror.
I’m a mess. Plain and simple. My uniform is askew, rumpled, and torn. My hair is a tangled mess. My hands and face stained with their blood. I tear the uniform off, disgusted at myself, at Robau, and at the Emperor.
They screamed.
I relished in them.
Became possessed. Uncontrollable. Set on one thing.
I stand before the mirror, naked. I am marked by the Emperor’s touch; a harsh ring of fingertip bruises around my neck, my collarbone. There are probably plenty of women in this Empire that would envy me for the sexual act he wanted me to engage in, the privilege of being with our great and powerful leader. But he disgusted me. He and Robau. They disgusted me when their shared laughter, bawd exclamations of what they had planned for me while I stood by, silent and shaking.
They got what they deserved.
I need to get rid of the blood. I turn the shower on and step in. It’s hot, scalding, but that’s okay. I want to burn the man’s touch from my body.
In the next room, Spock sleeps and I am in here, struggling futilely to rid myself of another man’s scent. It feels like betrayal. At some point, Spock and I have become something more. An understanding has formed between us. I don’t know when it happened. Or how it happened. He has not touched sexually me since that incident outside the Wall, fearing another emotional breakdown from me. He wanted me to heal. I’m grateful for that. But, now, I have that man-that Emperor’s touch searing into my skin. I want to forget it.
I scrub myself clean. The blood is gone, swirling down the drain. I turn the shower off and towel myself dry.
I enter the bedroom, where he still sleeps. He does not know that I left. Or, at least, I hope that he doesn’t.
I crawl into the bed, naked.
Spock curls an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, my back to his chest; I release a small gasp. He breathes into my ear, “You’ve returned.” His voice is rough with sleep.
I freeze, my body growing rigid.
“I do not require knowledge as to your whereabouts. I am merely thankful you have rejoined me.”
I nod. “Me, too.” I ignore the tears pooling in my eyes. Tomorrow, I will have to run.
The next morning, everything will be different.
Spock is awake before me. That’s not unusual. I wake alone and throw the covers from my body. I grab his folded undershirt from the chair near the door and, pulling it on, exit.
Spock’s seated at his desk, fingers steepled before his mouth. He’s lost in thought. When I enter, he glances at me then returns his gaze ahead. “The Emperor and another man have been murdered.”
My heart pounds in my chest, echoing in my ears. Does he know? Does he know that I was the one that did it? “H-how?”
“I am not familiar with the details as of yet, though Captain Pike informed me that the men looked like ‘minced meat.’”
My heart seizes in my chest, my breath halts. Does he know? Does he know that I took a knife, sharpened to the finest point, and slid it into their bodies, watching it slice through their skin like thin paper? Does he know that I didn’t care when they cried out?
“I am more concerned with the security breach within my office.”
“S-security breach?”
He nods. “Yes. As Commander of the Special Forces, I am the only one who was entrusted with knowledge of the Emperor’s whereabouts. They were to be secret while he was in town for the impending graduation ceremony. It appears that I have a soldier guilty of treason.” His words are stilted, unnatural. Rehearsed. He’d been sitting at that desk for who knows how long, waiting for me to wake. To corner me, force a confession?
My eyes dart across the room, jumping from one side to the other before finally resting on his again. His gaze is level with mine, unwavering. He pushes himself away from his desk, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s in that instant that I know.
He knows.
He knows that I’m the one who killed the Emperor. Robau. I sliced his throat; I stabbed his chest. I stabbed and I stabbed. I did it. Tears sting my eyes. “I-I-”
They deserved it.
He stands and approaches me, placing his hands behind his back.
I can’t look at him anymore. “I...I have to go. I can’t stay here.”
He closes the gap between us and raises my chin with his hand, fingers brushing across my flesh. “Where will you go?” How can he ask me that? He was the one who initially told me to escape, who told me I didn’t belong here. Who also told me he would help me escape. And now, he questions where I’m going, how I’m going.
The tears fall and I shiver, fear pumping through my veins. “I don’t know.” I sob, my breath rushing out of my lungs. I want to lie. I want to say that an escape route has been planned for my eventual need. I want to say that it was planned for me to run away after I completed my orders. That I was to escape from the boundaries of the Academy, that a shuttlecraft would be waiting for me on the other side, ready to take me to a hideout. But I can’t. I can’t lie to him. Because...
Because of so many reasons. Because he’d be able to see-feel-straight through it, his fingers brushing my face.
Pike knows it was me. Is he planning on my escape route? Is he-
No. I need to stop kidding myself. There is no escape route. I’m the pawn in their game. I’m the scapegoat. I’ve got nowhere to go. Another sob escapes my lips. Robau wasn’t planning on getting me out. He didn’t care. He said he loved me. He made a mistake.
“It will be...all right?” Even as the Commander says those words, he questions them, his voice raises slightly on the final syllable. Even as he says those words, they feel like a lie. It won’t be all right. Okay. It will never be okay. He can try to protect me but for how much longer? How much longer until his loyalty is called into question again, until he no longer desires me, until he no longer wishes to harbor a secret?
Even Spock doesn’t believe his own words.
It won’t be okay. I’m a marked woman. Now, more than ever.
“I have to go now.” The words fall from my lips, tumbling down to hang between us. To hover. I can’t rely on him. I couldn’t rely on Robau. I am truly alone now.
“You cannot.” He shakes his head, cupping my face with his hands.
“I have to.”
He shakes his head again. He kisses me.
I gasp, pulling away from him. “No. I can’t. I have to leave.”
His fingers brush my temples. I relax. “Nyota. Please, postpone your exit.”
I shake my head. “I-I can’t.”
“You can.” He rests his forehead against mine; one hand drifts down my side, the underside of my breast, before wrapping around my waist. “If you are uncomfortable, tell me to stop.”
He’s offering me a choice. A choice to decide if I want to do this. If I want to allow him inside my body. A choice to erase Robau’s touch, the Emperor’s touch. Tears burn my eyes and they slide close and I bring my hands up to frame his face, pulling him closer, raising myself on my toes. I press my lips to his. I’m not going to think. I’m not going to analyze this. I’m just going to feel. I open my mouth and he slips his tongue in to mingle with mine. His other hand drop to my waist and he presses his body against mine. I bring my arms up and wrap them around his neck.
“Make me forget, please.” Words whispered against his lips.
Spock makes quick work of my robe, shedding it from my body, letting it fall to the ground. His hand drifts downward and cups me. I moan into his mouth and he rubs his fingers against my clit.
It feels-I can’t-I grow wet.
I pull at his uniform. I need him. I need him so badly. I haven’t felt his touch in a month. I haven’t felt him inside me. I want Robau’s touch gone. I want the Emperor’s touch gone.
Spock pulls away long enough to rid himself of the blue top and the golden sash.
My hands skirt across his chest; he gasps, jerking his body away. Small burn-like injuries on his chest. “Spock?”
He grabs my hands in his. “Do not concern yourself with it. They are minor injuries.” He picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.
I arch my back, rising from the soft mattress and pressing my breasts against his chest. He pushes deep within me, moving slowly, thrusting languidly. I mewl and my hands run across the flesh of his back to his neck, mussing the dark short hair. I tease the pointed tips of his ears, brushing my fingertips across them; he shivers. I cup his face between my hands and bring his lips to mine.
We are so close.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. It's not enough. It's never enough. I need him. I need him so far, so deep within me, I can't tell where I end and he begins. We are one.
He twists his hips and I moan into his mouth, intertwining my tongue with his. He groans and delivers a sharp deep thrust, grinding his pubic bone against mine. It's unexpected and I break the kiss, crying out, panting loudly. My fingers tighten against his shoulders, grounding myself when his thrusts grow more powerful.
I am so close.
This is blissful, pleasurable. It’s not ugly, sinister, painful. There is no fear, no shame.
He presses his forehead against mine, his body against mine, pushing me into the mattress beneath me. His breathes heavily, small pants escaping his lips, in rhythm with his thrusts. He's close, too.
I can feel my body tense, growing rigid as my climax nears.
I cry out.
Suddenly, he stops thrusting and pulls away from my body, sitting back on his haunches. My eyes open and search feverishly for his. He does not speak but reaches down, wrapping his hands around me. He pulls me up, to sit on his lap. One arm wrapped around my hips, he encourages me to move. To take control.
I do so. Slowly. Carefully. Wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, I begin to move.
His moans and my own cries tell me I'm doing it right. I move up and down, circle my hips. I meet his eyes and our gaze holds.
I arch my back, tossing my head back, and close my eyes, dislodging my gaze from his. So close. A few more thrusts. My long hair dances against my back, skirting across his thighs. He moans.
I increase the speed of my movements. Desperation for that sweet release drives me. I moan, whimper, and my breath comes in pants. He drops his head to my chest, taking one of my breasts in his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue. His lips, his teeth tweak my nipple into a tight bud, driving me further. He moves to my other breast.
God, I need release. Why hasn't it come yet?
My body is tense and I feel release on the horizon, but it hasn't arrived yet. I keen, the noise bouncing off the walls and dancing with the slapping sounds of our flesh, and my thrusts become uneven, desperate. I grind my clit against his pubic bone and, gripping his arms, I lean further backwards and arch my back more, tightening around him, squeezing him deep within me.
He cries out, tightening his grip on my hips; he’s lost any semblance of Vulcan stoic calmness. He pulls me up, pressing me against his chest, and rests his forehead against mine. He kisses me, our tongues intermingling. I groan into his mouth, my movements on his cock never ceasing. A hand squeezes the flesh of my hip, propelling me onward. He brushes his other hand across my temple, pressing his fingers gently against my skin.
And, tearing my lips from his, I come with a scream, convulsing around his cock.
Spock groans against my neck, his hands tightening around my hips, holding me still. He breathes deeply, slowly.
He hasn’t come yet.
He kisses me again, running his tongue across my lips. He grips my hips and lifts me up and down on his cock. I moan into his mouth and restart my rhythm. His hands drift from my hips up my back to cup my face. He pants into my mouth, groaning.
Spock tightens his grip on my waist and moves us, propelling me backwards onto my back once more. I grab his shoulders and he increases the speed of his thrusts.
I cry out, throwing my head back, my eyes closing. I can feel another orgasm fast approaching.
He kisses my throat, lathering me with kisses and his lips move upwards toward mine. He slams his cock into me, grinding his pubic bone against my clit with each thrust. He captures my cry with his lips.
I come again. My pussy tightens around his cock and he grunts, never ceasing his thrusts. My eyes roll backward and I arch my back.
He quickly follows me, gripping my hips. His thrusts, uneven, jerky. He collapses against me, his weight oddly comforting, and kisses me. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. What can we say? I have killed the Emperor-and Robau; would he see me punished for that murder, or is it ‘an eye for an eye’?-and he knows it. But he will keep quiet; he will allow me to run. Won’t he? I just don’t know where I’m going. God. Where am I going to go?
He breaks the kiss and brushes the hair out of my face, cupping my cheeks. He rests his forehead against mine and takes a slow breath.
Tears burn in the back of my eyes and I close them. I don’t want them to fall.
Our final moment.
This is a moment I should have yearned for, something I should have prayed for. But it’s here now and I don’t want it. Because I will be alone when this moment is done. And I don’t want that.
He places another kiss on my lips and brushes the hair from my face. “I am sorry, Nyota.” The words are spoken with such emotion, with such poignancy that I have never heard from him before.
I open my eyes, searching for his, but he refuses to meet my gaze. “Spock?” I want to cringe at the weakness of my voice. I’m not weak. Not any longer.
“I am under strict orders.”
There’s a yell outside the room and the door slides open and men rush in. Spock is grabbed from behind and pulled away from me.
I scream, exposed to these strangers. They hold their phaser rifles towards me, at Spock, heedless of our nudity. Seeing my body, the soldiers grin and their eyes, their hands slither across my body. I tremble, fear pulsating through my veins, and I try to get away. Away from their touch, them.
But one of them slams his fist into the side of my head and I stumble, falling back onto the bed. Dazed.
The soldier grabs my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat, and hauls me back up, pressing me into his chest. His free hand skitters across my breasts, his fingers sinking into my flesh, bruising.
I wince.
Spock, despite how illogical it is, fights the men holding him, tearing his arms free from their grips. He takes a step forward, towards me and my captor.
Another soldier steps forward and slams the butt of his phaser rifle into Spock’s face and he falls to his knees.
I cry out, my hands grabbing at my captor’s where they tightened around my throat. He fights with me, pinning my arms behind my arching back with a strong hand, my breasts jutting out for the men to gaze at, to reach out and touch if they desire, as his other hand tightens around my neck in such a way that I will bruise. And I can’t fight them or their fingers.
“What are you doing? Attacking a Starfleet officer?”
That voice. I know that voice. My eyes drift from Spock, who spits emerald green blood onto the floor, but otherwise does nothing.
The soldiers part like the Red Sea. And Captain Pike, Admiral Barnett, and-
-And Cadet Kirk-
And Kirk enters.
I gasp. The men tighten their grip on me, squeezing my arms.
Admiral Barnett approaches me, glaring at my nude body, my thighs still slick with Spock and my combined fluids, with sweat. His eyes linger there before briefly drifting to Spock, eying his equally nude body. Barnett looks at the men holding Spock’s arm. “I think we can let him go, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” The men release Spock, who looks at me, then at the other men, at Kirk, Pike and Barnett.
“May I ask the meaning of this interruption, Admiral?”
Barnett chuckles. “You damn well know why we’re here, Commander.” His hand snaps out and grabs my hair, forcing my head back and causing me to cry out in pain, in fear. “Is this the whore you saw leaving the Emperor’s hotel room, Cadet?” He looks at Kirk.
My eyes meet Kirk’s. My heart pounds in my chest. Why? Why is he here? He let me go. Why is the Admiral asking him that question? Is he going to-
“Yes, sir. That’s the dirty little whore I saw him with.” He doesn’t meet my gaze, but he smiles.
My heart drops a mile in my stomach. He didn’t see me with him. He saw me leaving the turbolift. Circumstantial evidence, my brain screams. Circumstantial, at best. But it’s my word-a woman’s word-against his-a man. They will not believe me. My breath comes in pants, hyperventilating. I’m going to die.
It was the plan. I wasn’t meant to escape.
The Admiral approaches Spock. “Good job, Commander, with detaining the suspect until we were able to arrive.”
Tears spring into my eyes and I look at Spock. I am sorry. I’m under orders. His words mock me. It - it was nothing. It was a diversion. Something to keep me here until they arrived. He betrayed me. He drops his eyes from mine. No. He wouldn’t. “Sp-” My voice breaks off.
“You will find her clothing in the bathroom, should you need it for evidence.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Barnett turns to the soldiers and orders them to retrieve my uniform. He turns to face me. “In the meantime, we will escort Miss-”
“Uhura,” Spock supplies.
I can’t think. I can’t do anything. He turned me in? He promised. He promised he would help me escape. He promised he would keep me safe. He promised to lie for me.
“-Miss Uhura here to Special Forces Headquarters, where she will await your next move, Commander.”
“Spock?” My voice is a tiny whisper. My heart has been shattered.
He doesn’t look at me; instead, he focuses his attention on the men. “Of course, Admiral.” He turns to Pike. “Thank you for alerting me to the situation, Captain Pike.”
My hearing fades until I can only hear the rushing of my blood through veins. Blood that will not flow for much longer.
Oh, God. No. No. No.
I can’t say anything. I can’t do anything. I’m going to die. But Spock’s already killed me. I’m already dead.
They drag me from his apartment, naked and frightened, tears streaming down my face.