Fic: They Say It's Your Birthday (Gaila/Uhura, NC-17)
Title: They Say It's Your Birthday
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gaila/Uhura
Word Count: ~1800
Prompt: "Tentacles" at
kink_bingo
Warnings: None
Kinks: Tentacles, slight bondage
Summary: Gaila knows exactly what to do to make Uhura's birthday fantastic. After all, what are friends for?
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to their logical and respective owners. I make no profit from this.
Author's Note: I'm just excited I got to write tentacle porn and make mention of white cotton panties in there somewhere.
lt.gaila (0902): Happy birthday!
lt.gaila (0908): I know I shouldn't ping you when you're on shift. Please don't lecture me about that again
lt.uhura (0910): Thank you for the birthday wishes. I'll talk to you when I get off shift; it should be around 1300.
lt.gaila (1241): Your present is waiting for you in the botany bay when you get off, and so am I
lt.gaila (1242): I'll let you decide whether or not I'm wearing clothes ;)
. . .
The plant is a vine, creeping over a trellis - although tumbling may be a better verb for the stalks and tendrils curling in a riot of pale greens and blues around their metal support, taller than Uhura's head. They look slick, like they're secreting some kind of sap, smell faintly sharp, like the scent of burned sugar, and seem to be quivering. Uhura bends close, eyeing the plant; the tendrils sway with her breath, luminescing as they brush against each other.
"It's absolutely beautiful," she says, straightening and turning to Gaila, who's beaming at her; she loves birthdays, the idea of celebrating your life and the length you've lived it. Understandable, seeing as few Orions make it to middle age. "Where did you find it? Is it an Orion plant?"
"Oh, Hikaru cultivated it for me," she says with a wave of her hand. "It was easy; I told him what I wanted it to do and he spent a little time in the lab, splicing a few different varieties together." She sighs dramatically, and adds, in a mock-stern voice, "Now I have to give him my replicator credits for next week, since he didn't think me getting everyone to go to his botany presentation covered this favor. I hope you appreciate this, Nyota."
"Oh, I do," says Uhura, amused, setting her hands on her hips and examining the plant again. It really is lovely, the sort of thing earlier generations must have imagined alien flora to look like. Then Gaila's words fully filter through her brain, and she glances to her friend, whose grin has transformed into a smirk, waiting for Uhura to get it. "Wait, you said it does something?"
"Touch it," Gaila says, not quite answering, "go on," so Uhura does, and the tendrils glow, curling around her finger. Uhura bites her lip, wonders in the back of her mind Could it be?, and presses her palm fully against the plant. It climbs up to encircle her wrist, and with each brush against her skin it luminesces again and releases a brief blush of heat, enough to be pleasant but not enough to singe. From the chemical reactions causing the bioluminescence, she thinks, recalling something along those lines from Hikaru's presentation, and entangles the fingers of her other hand with the vines.
"Now I'm going to have to cut you out of those clothes," Gaila says, mouth close to her ear, and kisses her earlobe before pulling away, presumably to do just that. "Computer, lock doors."
"Well, one of us should be naked," murmurs Uhura, alluding to Gaila's earlier message, and leans her forehead against the trellis as Gaila snips through her uniform - a pity, but it'll recycle easily, and she has spares until she's got the credits to replicate a new one. Not that Uhura cares much right now; she's wrapped in vines (and soon in Gaila's arms) and all she can think is how glad she is that this is happening.
Gaila slices through one last piece of material, and pulls it out of the way, letting it drop to the floor. It's rough on Uhura's skin, or maybe it just seems that way; she feels hypersensitive, aroused and tense, and when Gaila strokes down her sides, just barely tickling, Uhura trembles hard.
"Happy birthday, leaflet," Gaila whispers, and unhooks Uhura's bra; it slides down her arms to the crook of her elbow, and hangs there. "Can you arch your back for me? Oh, that's beautiful," and she caresses Uhura's tense thigh; Uhura's risen up on her toes, as close to en pointe as she can be without the proper footwear and without warm-ups, the result of years of ballet as a child. Gaila's shucked her clothes as well, and Uhura can feel the soft fuzz of her pubic hair when Gaila presses against her body.
"Do you know how long I've wanted something like this to happen?" Uhura asks, and swallows hard as the vines twist tighter around her wrists.
"Getting fucked by tentacles?" Gaila asks, and Uhura exhales sharply; that's so blunt it makes her flush, like she did when she first confessed her fantasy to Gaila, over a Slusho or three in a kitschy bar outside the Academy grounds. "I know it's not exactly right, being a plant and everything, but it's the best I could do. I could've asked Miqnask from Engineering, or another Sulamid, but I didn't think you'd want me to bring a stranger."
"No, I wouldn't - but oh, Gaila, it's perfect like this," Uhura breathes, and Gaila trails her hands up Uhura's stomach, cupping her breasts and toying with her nipples. She slaps Uhura's ass lightly, a cue for her to straighten, then makes her lean closer, until her breasts brush against the plants and the vines uncoil, curving around her torso, drawing her in closer, making her rub against them in a bid for more touch, more heat; her nipples are hard and each caress of the vine makes her shiver, makes her wetter. Then her knees bump against the trellis, the vines curl around her thighs and knees, and she's pinned there, panting and eager; she lets out a little moan of anticipation (held there, she can't move, this plant could do anything to her, invade any part of her body it wants, oh) and rocks her hips to graze the trellis with her upper thighs.
The vines do exactly what she wanted, reaching toward her and twining around her hips, and from there they do even more (how did they know? why did they - oh, but it feels so good, she doesn't care), a tendril slipping under the synthetic cotton of her panties and slipping to her sex - there it dips between her labia and oh, a tiny tendril folds over her clit, and Uhura's body twitches at the jolt of electricity that runs from between her legs up her spine.
"Yes," she gasps, and tries to spread her legs more, because there's another vine twisted around her waist, nosing under the waistband of her underwear and this one hugs the curve of her ass until it finds her hole, tight, but the vine comes pre-lubricated and Uhura forces herself to relax as it presses inside; it's warm and slim and slick and it's so good, so good, made even better by the tendril at her clit being joined by another, thicker vine, which goes straight to where she's wettest and thrusts inside her, and at that she cries out, louder this time; the tip of the vine is knobbed, pressing into delightful places, and after a moment of discomfort Uhura's riding a wave of intensity - that's all she can call it, intensity, that makes her whimper and twist against the vines trapping her, her breathing's rough, she's practically gulping down air, and sweat beads on her chest and back as the vines work inside her - fuck -
Uhura's body slams against the trellis and she nearly wails her pleasure when she comes. It lasts for either scant seconds or forever, the way truly excellent orgasms do, and then she sags limp in the vines, muscles exhausted and nerves on fire.
"Stay very still," Gaila says from behind her, which makes Uhura jump; she'd forgotten her friend was there. "It will pull back on itself if you don't move at all."
It takes some concentration - and Uhura thinks she should be commended for having enough mental focus to do it at all - but she manages to make herself completely still after a minute or so. The vines loosen, slipping off from her waist and legs, and pulling out of her body; it's an odd sensation, not to mention an odd noise, no doubt from all the sap. Gaila catches her when the vines release her, dropping her onto shaky legs, and together they tumble to the floor. Gaila's giggling, splayed out with her arms above her head; Uhura twists around to straddle her, and leans down for a hiss.
"You're all sticky," Gaila says with a fake pout after Uhura draws away.
"So I am," says Uhura. She strokes a nail down Gaila's sternum, between her breasts, and adds teasingly, "Should I make you sticky too?"
"Oh, please," Gaila begs, grinning, "I'm all wet from watching you anyway," and rolls over, forcing Uhura to scramble to reclaim her position on top.
She will, eventually. All it takes is confidence.
. . .
"Hey, Lieutenant," Sulu says, pausing as he passes her in the mess hall. "How did you like your present?"
"What?" Uhura stares at him with color in her face. How did he know?
Sulu looks a bit uncomfortable at her bitten-off reply. "Uh, your creeper. The vine? I helped Gaila make it."
"Oh!" She catches Gaila's eye, sitting at their usual table; the Orion winks at her, and turns back to her plate. So he doesn't know; he's just being a nice guy. "Oh, right. It was really nice. Very pretty. Thanks."
"No problem." He gives her a funny look, but a sincere smile, and she rushes to get to Gaila's table before she collapses with laughter.
"What did he want?" Gaila asks, eating her salad with dainty fingers.
"Just to ask me how I liked the plant," Uhura says. "I couldn't help laughing when I thought he knew what we used it for."
"Oh, he did," Gaila says with surprise, dipping a leaf in plomeek vinaigrette. "Not the dirty details, but I told him what I wanted it for."
Uhura chokes on her coffee, and cranes her head to look for Sulu. He's in the replicator line, watching her and Gaila with clear amusement. When he sees her staring, he tosses her a little salute and a wry smile, then turns away. Uhura sits back in her chair, feeling fairly stupid.
"Maybe we should ask him to join us next time," Gaila says thoughtfully.
"Gaila!"
Read @ Dreamwidth, where this post has
comments.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gaila/Uhura
Word Count: ~1800
Prompt: "Tentacles" at
kink_bingo
Warnings: None
Kinks: Tentacles, slight bondage
Summary: Gaila knows exactly what to do to make Uhura's birthday fantastic. After all, what are friends for?
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to their logical and respective owners. I make no profit from this.
Author's Note: I'm just excited I got to write tentacle porn and make mention of white cotton panties in there somewhere.
lt.gaila (0902): Happy birthday!
lt.gaila (0908): I know I shouldn't ping you when you're on shift. Please don't lecture me about that again
lt.uhura (0910): Thank you for the birthday wishes. I'll talk to you when I get off shift; it should be around 1300.
lt.gaila (1241): Your present is waiting for you in the botany bay when you get off, and so am I
lt.gaila (1242): I'll let you decide whether or not I'm wearing clothes ;)
. . .
The plant is a vine, creeping over a trellis - although tumbling may be a better verb for the stalks and tendrils curling in a riot of pale greens and blues around their metal support, taller than Uhura's head. They look slick, like they're secreting some kind of sap, smell faintly sharp, like the scent of burned sugar, and seem to be quivering. Uhura bends close, eyeing the plant; the tendrils sway with her breath, luminescing as they brush against each other.
"It's absolutely beautiful," she says, straightening and turning to Gaila, who's beaming at her; she loves birthdays, the idea of celebrating your life and the length you've lived it. Understandable, seeing as few Orions make it to middle age. "Where did you find it? Is it an Orion plant?"
"Oh, Hikaru cultivated it for me," she says with a wave of her hand. "It was easy; I told him what I wanted it to do and he spent a little time in the lab, splicing a few different varieties together." She sighs dramatically, and adds, in a mock-stern voice, "Now I have to give him my replicator credits for next week, since he didn't think me getting everyone to go to his botany presentation covered this favor. I hope you appreciate this, Nyota."
"Oh, I do," says Uhura, amused, setting her hands on her hips and examining the plant again. It really is lovely, the sort of thing earlier generations must have imagined alien flora to look like. Then Gaila's words fully filter through her brain, and she glances to her friend, whose grin has transformed into a smirk, waiting for Uhura to get it. "Wait, you said it does something?"
"Touch it," Gaila says, not quite answering, "go on," so Uhura does, and the tendrils glow, curling around her finger. Uhura bites her lip, wonders in the back of her mind Could it be?, and presses her palm fully against the plant. It climbs up to encircle her wrist, and with each brush against her skin it luminesces again and releases a brief blush of heat, enough to be pleasant but not enough to singe. From the chemical reactions causing the bioluminescence, she thinks, recalling something along those lines from Hikaru's presentation, and entangles the fingers of her other hand with the vines.
"Now I'm going to have to cut you out of those clothes," Gaila says, mouth close to her ear, and kisses her earlobe before pulling away, presumably to do just that. "Computer, lock doors."
"Well, one of us should be naked," murmurs Uhura, alluding to Gaila's earlier message, and leans her forehead against the trellis as Gaila snips through her uniform - a pity, but it'll recycle easily, and she has spares until she's got the credits to replicate a new one. Not that Uhura cares much right now; she's wrapped in vines (and soon in Gaila's arms) and all she can think is how glad she is that this is happening.
Gaila slices through one last piece of material, and pulls it out of the way, letting it drop to the floor. It's rough on Uhura's skin, or maybe it just seems that way; she feels hypersensitive, aroused and tense, and when Gaila strokes down her sides, just barely tickling, Uhura trembles hard.
"Happy birthday, leaflet," Gaila whispers, and unhooks Uhura's bra; it slides down her arms to the crook of her elbow, and hangs there. "Can you arch your back for me? Oh, that's beautiful," and she caresses Uhura's tense thigh; Uhura's risen up on her toes, as close to en pointe as she can be without the proper footwear and without warm-ups, the result of years of ballet as a child. Gaila's shucked her clothes as well, and Uhura can feel the soft fuzz of her pubic hair when Gaila presses against her body.
"Do you know how long I've wanted something like this to happen?" Uhura asks, and swallows hard as the vines twist tighter around her wrists.
"Getting fucked by tentacles?" Gaila asks, and Uhura exhales sharply; that's so blunt it makes her flush, like she did when she first confessed her fantasy to Gaila, over a Slusho or three in a kitschy bar outside the Academy grounds. "I know it's not exactly right, being a plant and everything, but it's the best I could do. I could've asked Miqnask from Engineering, or another Sulamid, but I didn't think you'd want me to bring a stranger."
"No, I wouldn't - but oh, Gaila, it's perfect like this," Uhura breathes, and Gaila trails her hands up Uhura's stomach, cupping her breasts and toying with her nipples. She slaps Uhura's ass lightly, a cue for her to straighten, then makes her lean closer, until her breasts brush against the plants and the vines uncoil, curving around her torso, drawing her in closer, making her rub against them in a bid for more touch, more heat; her nipples are hard and each caress of the vine makes her shiver, makes her wetter. Then her knees bump against the trellis, the vines curl around her thighs and knees, and she's pinned there, panting and eager; she lets out a little moan of anticipation (held there, she can't move, this plant could do anything to her, invade any part of her body it wants, oh) and rocks her hips to graze the trellis with her upper thighs.
The vines do exactly what she wanted, reaching toward her and twining around her hips, and from there they do even more (how did they know? why did they - oh, but it feels so good, she doesn't care), a tendril slipping under the synthetic cotton of her panties and slipping to her sex - there it dips between her labia and oh, a tiny tendril folds over her clit, and Uhura's body twitches at the jolt of electricity that runs from between her legs up her spine.
"Yes," she gasps, and tries to spread her legs more, because there's another vine twisted around her waist, nosing under the waistband of her underwear and this one hugs the curve of her ass until it finds her hole, tight, but the vine comes pre-lubricated and Uhura forces herself to relax as it presses inside; it's warm and slim and slick and it's so good, so good, made even better by the tendril at her clit being joined by another, thicker vine, which goes straight to where she's wettest and thrusts inside her, and at that she cries out, louder this time; the tip of the vine is knobbed, pressing into delightful places, and after a moment of discomfort Uhura's riding a wave of intensity - that's all she can call it, intensity, that makes her whimper and twist against the vines trapping her, her breathing's rough, she's practically gulping down air, and sweat beads on her chest and back as the vines work inside her - fuck -
Uhura's body slams against the trellis and she nearly wails her pleasure when she comes. It lasts for either scant seconds or forever, the way truly excellent orgasms do, and then she sags limp in the vines, muscles exhausted and nerves on fire.
"Stay very still," Gaila says from behind her, which makes Uhura jump; she'd forgotten her friend was there. "It will pull back on itself if you don't move at all."
It takes some concentration - and Uhura thinks she should be commended for having enough mental focus to do it at all - but she manages to make herself completely still after a minute or so. The vines loosen, slipping off from her waist and legs, and pulling out of her body; it's an odd sensation, not to mention an odd noise, no doubt from all the sap. Gaila catches her when the vines release her, dropping her onto shaky legs, and together they tumble to the floor. Gaila's giggling, splayed out with her arms above her head; Uhura twists around to straddle her, and leans down for a hiss.
"You're all sticky," Gaila says with a fake pout after Uhura draws away.
"So I am," says Uhura. She strokes a nail down Gaila's sternum, between her breasts, and adds teasingly, "Should I make you sticky too?"
"Oh, please," Gaila begs, grinning, "I'm all wet from watching you anyway," and rolls over, forcing Uhura to scramble to reclaim her position on top.
She will, eventually. All it takes is confidence.
. . .
"Hey, Lieutenant," Sulu says, pausing as he passes her in the mess hall. "How did you like your present?"
"What?" Uhura stares at him with color in her face. How did he know?
Sulu looks a bit uncomfortable at her bitten-off reply. "Uh, your creeper. The vine? I helped Gaila make it."
"Oh!" She catches Gaila's eye, sitting at their usual table; the Orion winks at her, and turns back to her plate. So he doesn't know; he's just being a nice guy. "Oh, right. It was really nice. Very pretty. Thanks."
"No problem." He gives her a funny look, but a sincere smile, and she rushes to get to Gaila's table before she collapses with laughter.
"What did he want?" Gaila asks, eating her salad with dainty fingers.
"Just to ask me how I liked the plant," Uhura says. "I couldn't help laughing when I thought he knew what we used it for."
"Oh, he did," Gaila says with surprise, dipping a leaf in plomeek vinaigrette. "Not the dirty details, but I told him what I wanted it for."
Uhura chokes on her coffee, and cranes her head to look for Sulu. He's in the replicator line, watching her and Gaila with clear amusement. When he sees her staring, he tosses her a little salute and a wry smile, then turns away. Uhura sits back in her chair, feeling fairly stupid.
"Maybe we should ask him to join us next time," Gaila says thoughtfully.
"Gaila!"
Read @ Dreamwidth, where this post has
comments.