Bridge2Sickbay ficlets
This week bridge2sickbay did a prompt bingo. It's still going on, and it's fun but I am written out for the evening, I think. So here's what I came up with.
Gaila/Kirk: pegging | Adult | 177 words
She wasn’t sure she’d like it that much, so she’d hesitated. But then he’d begged her, actually took her hands in his and begged her, so she’d said yes, with the caveat that he owed her.
Now, though?
As Gaila pounds into Jim, she starts thinking she just might take more of this as her compensation. She loves her body parts, but the sheer novelty of having a cock and watching him take it is exhilarating. The way his fingers grip the sides of the desk, his knuckles white, the way he moans deep in his throat as she thrusts into him rhythmically…
Damn.
This is getting her wet, and she longs to run her hands over her own body, pinch her nipples, finger her clit. She keeps her grip on his hips, though. She wants to see finger-shaped bruises on his white skin when they wake up together tomorrow morning. She wants to feel every shudder that ripples through him, every shiver as she brushes his prostate. Wants to feel him come apart in her hands.
_____
George(/Winona): blindfold | Teen (for implied violence and off-screen OC death) | 359 words
When they slide open the door to his cell, George is ready. He throws himself at them, fights them with everything he’s got, which, at this point, is pure adrenalin. They beat him into submission - an inevitability, given their numbers and brute strength - bind his wrists behind his back, and tie a blindfold over his eyes.
He feels the cold nozzle of a rifle poke sharply at his back. Again. His captors don’t speak, but the message is clear: march.
George obeys because there’s nothing left for him to do right now, except hope. Between here and the wall where he’ll be gunned down - where the rest of his away team was gunned down, while he was forced to listen from his cell - something might come to him. An idea. His captors might slip up. Unlikely at this point, but--
As long as he’s breathing, he can hope.
Beneath his feet, flat stones give way to dry dirt. He feels sun and wind on his face. As he gulps air into his lungs, a bead of sweat slides down the side of his face, causing the cuts and bruises there to sting. The pain is muted. Everything is muted except for what feels like a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.
Think, damn it.
If only he could see--
He hears phaser fire and flinches instinctively. A phaser beam sizzles the air beside him, and there’s a cry and a dull thud as his captors fall.
Get down, George tells himself. Get low. But his body won’t obey him. His knees begin to fold, but it isn’t his doing.
Someone catches him just before he hits the dirt. Someone with slender arms and soft hair that smells faintly of lavender clasps him to her and jerks the blindfold from his eyes. Bright sunlight strikes his eyes, and he has to squint. Over Winona’s shoulder, he can just make out the tall, broad figure of Captain Robau, phaser rifle in hand. He’s shouting orders, but all George can hear above the roar of blood in his ears is Winona whispering, “Hey, baby. I’ve got you.”
_____
Uhura(&Kirk, or unrequited!Kirk/Uhura): crash | all ages | 266 words
It’s nearly 2400 when Jim spots Uhura slumped over a desk in the library, her head resting on her folded arms, her gorgeous hair spilled down her shoulders. Her PADD lies abandoned by her elbow, the nearly finished Early Starfleet History essay right there for him - or anyone else - to read.
Jim bites his lip, for once irresolute. He should wake her, he thinks. The essay isn’t due tomorrow, so there’s no need for her to finish tonight, but her neck and back are going to be stiff as hell if she keeps sleeping like that. He lifts a hand to touch her shoulder, but drops it back to his side almost immediately.
She doesn’t like him and she’d be pissed if she knew he saw her like this, relaxed and unguarded, a tiny spot of drool glistening on her lower lip.
Jim grins, not at all maliciously. Uhura is probably the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and intelligent to boot, but she isn’t perfect, and the reminder kind of pleases him. In fact, it makes him like her more.
So he doesn’t wake her. He doesn’t take off his jacket and drape it over her shoulders, although he’s tempted to do that too. He just flicks his fingertips over her PADD, saving her work - just in case - and setting an alarm to go off in fifteen minutes. She’ll wonder who did it, but he’ll be long gone by then.
He makes a point of not looking at the heading on her essay. He’ll get her first name, but not like this.
1/23/2011
Gaila/Kirk: pegging | Adult | 177 words
She wasn’t sure she’d like it that much, so she’d hesitated. But then he’d begged her, actually took her hands in his and begged her, so she’d said yes, with the caveat that he owed her.
Now, though?
As Gaila pounds into Jim, she starts thinking she just might take more of this as her compensation. She loves her body parts, but the sheer novelty of having a cock and watching him take it is exhilarating. The way his fingers grip the sides of the desk, his knuckles white, the way he moans deep in his throat as she thrusts into him rhythmically…
Damn.
This is getting her wet, and she longs to run her hands over her own body, pinch her nipples, finger her clit. She keeps her grip on his hips, though. She wants to see finger-shaped bruises on his white skin when they wake up together tomorrow morning. She wants to feel every shudder that ripples through him, every shiver as she brushes his prostate. Wants to feel him come apart in her hands.
_____
George(/Winona): blindfold | Teen (for implied violence and off-screen OC death) | 359 words
When they slide open the door to his cell, George is ready. He throws himself at them, fights them with everything he’s got, which, at this point, is pure adrenalin. They beat him into submission - an inevitability, given their numbers and brute strength - bind his wrists behind his back, and tie a blindfold over his eyes.
He feels the cold nozzle of a rifle poke sharply at his back. Again. His captors don’t speak, but the message is clear: march.
George obeys because there’s nothing left for him to do right now, except hope. Between here and the wall where he’ll be gunned down - where the rest of his away team was gunned down, while he was forced to listen from his cell - something might come to him. An idea. His captors might slip up. Unlikely at this point, but--
As long as he’s breathing, he can hope.
Beneath his feet, flat stones give way to dry dirt. He feels sun and wind on his face. As he gulps air into his lungs, a bead of sweat slides down the side of his face, causing the cuts and bruises there to sting. The pain is muted. Everything is muted except for what feels like a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.
Think, damn it.
If only he could see--
He hears phaser fire and flinches instinctively. A phaser beam sizzles the air beside him, and there’s a cry and a dull thud as his captors fall.
Get down, George tells himself. Get low. But his body won’t obey him. His knees begin to fold, but it isn’t his doing.
Someone catches him just before he hits the dirt. Someone with slender arms and soft hair that smells faintly of lavender clasps him to her and jerks the blindfold from his eyes. Bright sunlight strikes his eyes, and he has to squint. Over Winona’s shoulder, he can just make out the tall, broad figure of Captain Robau, phaser rifle in hand. He’s shouting orders, but all George can hear above the roar of blood in his ears is Winona whispering, “Hey, baby. I’ve got you.”
_____
Uhura(&Kirk, or unrequited!Kirk/Uhura): crash | all ages | 266 words
It’s nearly 2400 when Jim spots Uhura slumped over a desk in the library, her head resting on her folded arms, her gorgeous hair spilled down her shoulders. Her PADD lies abandoned by her elbow, the nearly finished Early Starfleet History essay right there for him - or anyone else - to read.
Jim bites his lip, for once irresolute. He should wake her, he thinks. The essay isn’t due tomorrow, so there’s no need for her to finish tonight, but her neck and back are going to be stiff as hell if she keeps sleeping like that. He lifts a hand to touch her shoulder, but drops it back to his side almost immediately.
She doesn’t like him and she’d be pissed if she knew he saw her like this, relaxed and unguarded, a tiny spot of drool glistening on her lower lip.
Jim grins, not at all maliciously. Uhura is probably the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and intelligent to boot, but she isn’t perfect, and the reminder kind of pleases him. In fact, it makes him like her more.
So he doesn’t wake her. He doesn’t take off his jacket and drape it over her shoulders, although he’s tempted to do that too. He just flicks his fingertips over her PADD, saving her work - just in case - and setting an alarm to go off in fifteen minutes. She’ll wonder who did it, but he’ll be long gone by then.
He makes a point of not looking at the heading on her essay. He’ll get her first name, but not like this.
1/23/2011