Spock/Uhura Request Meme
Here is where you can request Spock/Uhura fic. All character versions are allowed (TOS Spock, AOS/nu! Spock, Spock Prime, Mirror Verse Spock and the same applies to Uhura). Requests can be kink or not, it doesn't really matter. You may request using your user name or post anonymously.
Please cross post/repost/xpost S/U requests from other memes ( Read more... )
Please cross post/repost/xpost S/U requests from other memes ( Read more... )
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There was no logical reason for this.
Spock had the inexplicable urge to bite his lip or clench his hands or shift his footing. He felt warm, warmer than usual, and his clothes scratched at his skin. He felt the same way he did during his sexual relations with Nyota, which was - though he did not like to repeat himself - illogical. He was not in physical contact with Nyota, or any other woman. Pon farr was still years away. There was no reason...
Nyota twisted her hand into T’Pring’s elaborately-styled hair, fingers hooking into the beads that draped around it, and pulled. T’Pring’s jaw clenched and she made a very quiet sort of squeak - she did not allow herself to yelp, though Spock knew firsthand the impressive strength Nyota could command (they were not always gentle in their encounters).
Spock had already tried to diffuse the conflict well before it had become physical. Nyota, however, was insistent that she would win Spock “fair and square”, in her words. She had held her chin high, and her facial expression had been somehow... hungry. Possessive.
Simply the memory of it sucked the moisture from Spock’s mouth.
T’Pring was stronger than Nyota, of course, due to Vulcan physiology. Evidently, Nyota had anticipated this: she did not attempt to win by brute force. She was sly, ducking under T’Pring’s punches to strike from behind, slipping away before T’Pring could turn and attack. T’Pring had begun trying to strike without turning; stepping on Nyota’s toes (a childish attack, particularly since Starfleet uniform boots were sturdy - Spock doubted Nyota even noticed) or jabbing her elbow back into Nyota’s stomach. Though the former tactic did work once, Nyota was still too quick.
Unless Spock was mistaken, Nyota had taken only one solid to her ribs throughout the fight.
And now the small pearls that had adorned T’Pring’s hair clattered to the floor, and Nyota yanked at T’Pring’s hair until she was on her knees, and low enough that Nyota could swing a leg around her neck and shove her to the floor. With a knee pressed into T’Pring’s throat, Nyota reached beneath her skirt for the small knife she always kept strapped to her thigh. The skirt caught on the now-empty holster, and even as the point of a blade rested against the flesh covering T’Pring’s heart, Spock’s eyes were held by the long stretch of thigh that was still revealed.
“T’Pring,” he said, slightly alarmed to hear his own voice so husky. T’Pring was frozen, breathing in short, shallow rasps as Nyota’s knee hindered the flow of air - but Spock saw her eyes flicker to him and narrow. “You must concede defeat. I do not think it wise to test Nyota’s resolve.”
There was a moment of pause, and then T’Pring opened her mouth, attempting speech. Nyota eased the pressure of her knee until T’Pring’s voice was steady. “I yield,” she said.
Nyota had been somewhat straddling T’Pring; she swung her leg back over and rose in one graceful motion, resheathing her knife and smoothing down her skirt. By her expression and comportment, Spock might not have known that she had been engaged in mortal combat only moments before. However, her hair, usually sleek and immaculate, was tangled and flyaway, loose strands curled around her cheeks. Her skin glistened very faintly with sweat, and her cheeks were flushed. Her breath came out in small, quiet puffs - she was evidently attempting to even her respiration. Her eyes met Spock’s as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and he saw triumph in her dark eyes. She looked very nearly smug, an expression he was more accustomed to seeing on the captain’s face. Then, it was frustrating - but on Nyota, this look affected him in ways he did not want to admit.
Spock folded his hands in front of him as quickly as he dared. Nyota watched him, a sly curl to one corner of her mouth, eyes so dark they seemed black, tempting and seductive and he saw that she knew.
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“But-” Nyota frowned. “Then why did you fight?”
T’Pring straightened her shoulders. “I am honour-bound to answer a challenge,” she said simply. Then she left, without another word.
Spock flipped open his communicator. “Spock to Enterprise.”
“Enterprise here.”
“Two to beam up.” Spock reached out and Nyota took his hand: her skin was warm and he could feel her pulse fluttering against the soft flesh of her wrist. “Energize.” His breath stuttered almost imperceptibly on the word and it was humiliating, but Nyota only gripped his hand tighter.
As the golden light began to weave its way around them, Spock took a moment to compose himself. It would not do to lose control in the transporter room.
He led her calmly through the halls until they reached his quarters. His fingers did not fumble or shake as he punched in the password. The door opened and he stepped inside, Nyota close behind him.
As the door slid shut, Nyota leaned up until her lips brushed his ear and whispered, “I won you.” He could smell sweat and arousal, no longer sure how much belonged to him and how much to her. Her free hand was curled very loosely around his throat, fingertips pressing into his pulse, in a way that would have been threatening from anyone else.
Spock shut his eyes and tried not to give himself away, but then Nyota kissed him in the human way, pressing her body against his so closely that he could feel her heart against his chest. He let out a soft groan before he thought to stop himself, and Nyota only pressed closer, backing him into the wall and pushing one of her thighs between his own.
“What got you so hot and bothered, Spock?” she murmured, her lips scant inches from his own.
Spock said, breathing hard but attempting to sound composed, “You were - engaged in what I believe is-” Nyota slid her hands up underneath his shirt and spread her fingers against his stomach, his heart thudding under her palm, and he was no longer confident in his coherency. He took a deep breath and she began to kiss his neck, dipping her tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat. “Is colloquially called a - catfight.”
Nyota took her hands out of his shirt, letting them rest on his hips as she laughed into his neck and he could feel her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. “Men are men, on any planet,” she said, and he opened his mouth to respond when suddenly, she twisted her hand in his shirt and began to pull him towards the bed. He let himself be pulled, and then, when she spun them so the backs of his knees hit the bed, he relaxed and let himself be pushed down. There was a moment’s delay before she joined him; when he raised his head to ask if there was a problem, he saw that she was undressing - first the outer uniform dress, and then her black lace undergarments. She left on her boots but then knelt and removed his, and this was different from anything that had ever done. From there she unfastened his slacks and curled her fingers into the waistbands of both underwear and pants and pulled them off simultaneously. Spock blinked up at the ceiling, painfully aroused and also a little confused. He raised his arms so she could pull off his shirt, and suddenly she was straddling his hips.
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Spock did not know why human kisses affected him more than Vulcan ones. He had been raised in Vulcan society - it did not make sense. But sense mattered little to him, then. Her tongue was tracing his lips and then his teeth and then it was slick and soft against his own and he could not have enough of her.
She pulled away, gasping for air, and stray hairs were stuck to her sweat-damp skin and her eyes had a bright sheen to them. She reached down and took him in her hand again, raising her hips, and she gave a little toss of her hair, and then she guided him inside her.
Spock sighed - or gasped, he was no longer sure - and Nyota leaned in to press their foreheads together. “You’re all mine now,” she said, her voice low and rough. Her eyes were solemn.
Spock did not trust himself to speak. Instead he nodded, and Nyota seemed satisfied with that. She rode him as if it would last forever, and her hands roamed over every part of his body, as if memorizing him with the pads of her fingers and the palms of her hands, and even on occasion the contours of her lips.
She knew when he was approaching climax. He could not say how she knew, but she did, for she bent down and whispered, “Say it,” and though he could have asked for clarification, he knew to what she was referring.
“I am yours,” he gasped, reaching down to bring her with him, and with those words she pressed her mouth hard against his and tangled her fingers into his hair and she tightened.
She bit his shoulder and moaned, her whole body shaking with the force of her climax.
“Nyota,” Spock said, one hand resting in the small of her back to hold their bodies together. “I am yours.”
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Like darkqueenakasha suggested, please consider posting this to spock_uhura!
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Yeah, I was actually just about to post it there. ^^
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