star trek | laws of motion
Star Trek XI | Spock/Kirk/Uhura | 4000 words | beta'd by roga.
Yet again, inspired by and dedicated to sabrina_il, with apologies for driving her slightly crazy. Warning: borderline dubcon. Post-movie. Thanks to roga for the magnificent beta.
Laws of Motion
“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
-Isaac Newton
“So, how’re we gonna do this, people?”
Uhura looked at him, long and steady, and for a second Kirk thought he’d managed to get a rise out of her-until she smiled. It wasn’t vicious, but neither was it particularly comforting; more as though here, in this room, his drawling sarcasm couldn’t touch her. She turned to look at Spock, one perfectly-styled eyebrow raised in question, unruffled and faintly amused.
Spock looked back, and they seemed to have a silent exchange of words, probably at a telepathic wavelength accessible only to obsessive-compulsive control freaks. Kirk shifted slightly, annoyed. Secrets were bastards, especially open ones, and the exchanges of unspoken intimacy-starting from yesterday, when he’d first propositioned them, and continuing up to this minute-were getting on his nerves. He was just about to make a snide remark about turning off the ‘mute’ button when Spock turned to him, slow and calm, looking straight into his eyes.
“I think,” he said decisively, “it would be most efficacious if you were to get on the bed.”
Kirk looked at the object in question, and was impressed despite himself. The bed, positioned at the far end of the room, was large and looked comfortable-an unprecedented concept in Starfleet, but apparently the Enterprise was a revolutionary ship in more ways than just its state-of-the-art navigation system. Kirk hadn’t known the captain had such benefits as a deluxe bedroom suite, but then, he’d never been in the captain’s room. Spock had claimed that spot first, after all, and when Kirk had taken over he hadn’t thought to inquire about any other bonuses which came with the package. Who needed anything else, other than commanding your own ship? But no, apparently the captain was due a king-sized mattress as well; it made sense, since most of them were middle-aged family men or women, with spouses and kids en suite. Which, okay, Spock totally wasn’t like that, but he did have Uhura, and the thought of them laying down together at night, curled up and naked, touching at the chest, the hips, the-
“Captain?” Uhura said. She was looking at him quizzically, head tilted slightly to the side.
“Yes,” Kirk said automatically, and mentally shook himself. This was ridiculous; he was Jim Kirk and they were going to have sex, there was nothing to get flustered over in this scenario. “Call me Kirk. Bit silly to stand on formalities here, isn’t it?”
“Kirk,” she allowed, and when Spock turned to look at the bed, she followed his gaze. Kirk sauntered up to it, natural as anything, and made a show of testing the firmness and raising his eyebrows at Spock, as if to say this is your military-regulated bunk? Then he nonchalantly toed off his boots and clambered up to the middle of it, squatting on his haunches and turning back to face the two of them, expectant.
“You two gonna join, or what?”
“Nervous?” Uhura asked. She had freed her hair, which was a sight to see, and climbed on the bed, much more gracefully than Kirk had, not stopping until she was right up close and personal, her bosom taking up his entire field of vision. Kirk tilted his face up and for several seconds could do nothing but stare. As a cadet, he’d been known to suffer from tunnel vision occasionally, especially in practice simulations, but he was fairly certain this wasn’t it. For one thing, there was no ‘practice’ here.
“No,” he said belatedly, when he zoned in enough to answer, because that was his automatic reply when someone questioned his nerve. Then he turned it around. “Are you?”
She rested two of her fingertips on the zipper of his suit, gently pressing it into the dip of his collarbone, a contemplative expression on her face. “No,” she said at length. “I’ve got someone to watch my back.” And her eyes flicked upwards for a second, looking above Kirk at the other end of the bed, and she grinned. Before he could twist to follow her gaze, though, she snapped back to him and tugged the zipper down, neatly disrobing him from neck to navel in one whip-sharp move.
“Woah there,” he said, or tried to; Uhura pushed him back on the bed and effortlessly moved to straddle him, taking both his hands in hers and placing them on her waist. Her ass placed itself firmly on his crotch, and whatever witty remark he’d had ready to fire disintegrated into a fine mist. Her earrings, silver and ruby, glinted in the dim light, and her short uniform skirt hitched up around her thighs in dark folds. All in all, a very pleasing aesthetic.
He said so, because he was given to complimenting women, and added, “You seem eager,” because he was equally given to complimenting himself.
Uhura rolled her eyes. “Want me to take you on a date and buy you flowers first?”
“I don’t know,” Kirk looked innocent. “What kind of flowers?”
Uhura decided to shut up him by kissing him, which showed definite leadership skills, because if ever there was a win-win solution to a problem, this was it. He licked into her mouth, doing a trick with his tongue he’d learned off a former girlfriend and making happy noises. Kirk was a vocal kind of guy, always had been, and he’d never seen the sense in holding back during sex. Besides, having Nyota Uhura sitting in his lap and kissing him like a woman gone wild would have warranted positive feedback in anyone’s book.
Uhura spread her palms like a dove’s outstretched wings, fingers unfurling against the sweep of his collarbone, and her skin was soft and warm, both over and beneath his hands. He moved down her sides slowly, then back up, learning her curves and angles: she was small and sleek, responding to every touch, sensitive as a fine-tuned instrument. When he finally cupped her breasts, thumb flicking at a nipple, her breath caught. It was a sound he’d never heard from her before, and it was so hot he did it again, just for that, and rolled his hips upwards, grinning when she moved with him, arching into his hands and tugging down the sleeves of his suit. He let go just enough to help her, then started unzipping her own uniform-he’d learned his way around the girls’ attire in the first week of his academy training-pushing the shirt over her head and undoing the clasp of her bra one-handed. She was beautiful, faintly musk-scented, and right now she was entirely his.
She moved to shrug out of her bra, but he intercepted her, unhooking it from her shoulders with expert ease. At her nonplussed expression, he smiled, wide and shameless. “I’ve had lots of practice. And I’m good with my hands.”
“However, modesty still eludes you,” she said, trying to be scathing, then totally put the lie to her words when she reached down and yanked the rest of his suit down his hips, because how was he supposed to act modest when she was practically drooling to get at his dick? He’d seen it since the first night at the bar, and-as Bones knew in excruciating detail-Jim Kirk was never wrong when it came to the fairer sex. Add another tally to the scoreboard:
Womankind: 0
Kirk: → ∞
So far, everything was going according to plan.
In pretty short order they were both naked, Uhura rubbing against him in delicious short thrusts, his hand curved tight in the niche of her waist and another moving lazily down the cleft of her ass. The sound of her tiny gasps was an incredible soundtrack, a victory in its own right. Life was perfect.
He had to come back and revise that statement shortly afterwards when she grabbed his shoulders for balance and gently lowered herself down, the going as smooth as operating in zero G, a horizon of warm brown skin spread out above him. All Starfleet personnel were vaccinated against STDs, so there was none of that messing about he’d been forced to endure in his youth, when the poor and uninsured were forced to deal with condoms. The feel of his cock inside her, skin to skin, was intoxicating as only a woman’s body could be. Her shiny black tangle of hair cascaded in a waterfall between them, swinging with her movements, and her breath was hot on his cheek, the bow of her upper lip wet and red; so tight, fuck-
When she pulled him to her and said, “Come on, roll over,” he thought she meant fuck me into the mattress, so he obeyed faster than blinking, leaning one elbow on the bed and tilting sideways, loving the way her body drew him down, thighs clenched around his pelvis, completely sheathed and fire-hot. She stared up at him, cheeks flushed, lashes curving long and dark, fierce and desperate and gasping for him like oxygen.
He was completely unprepared for the sudden dip in the mattress behind him, or the firm hands gripping his shoulder and ass, or the voice behind him that said, “Please inhale deeply, Kirk, and relax your sphincteral muscles.”
“What-” he tried to jerk away, but the hands on him were like iron clamps, and Spock’s fingers skilfully found his entrance, holding him still and steadily pushing in. His skin was wet and cold, covered in some kind of lubricant, and Kirk was about to whip up one hell of a storm yelling at that goddamn motherfucking piece of shit Vulcan, because what the fucking fuck-but then Spock’s finger made it past the first ring of muscle and Kirk’s words died somewhere in his throat.
He tried to struggle then, to get up and away, but Uhura’s thighs pinned him as securely as steel, her hands gripping his forearms and locking them in place. She was stronger than she looked, damn her, and with Spock on the other side, he didn’t have any leeway. They held him fast between them, hooked from both sides, and he was trapped.
Uhura was beneath him, looking up directly at his face, and her eyes were dark and hungry as she stared, drinking him in. She was actually smiling, the traitorous bitch. “You look so shocked,” she murmured, voice low and pleased. “Never been penetrated before?”
“Shit no,” Kirk tried to say, and maybe throw her off in order to jam an elbow into Spock’s solar plexus, but he was cut off as Uhura rocked against him sharply, muscles clenching around his cock. Spock flexed his finger, added another, pushing out and then further in, and Kirk choked on his own words, shuddering full-bodied. It felt so strange, so alien, so-
“Why is that?” she asked, and Spock, at his back, made a small sound which might have been amusement. He added another finger, and Kirk found himself, to his extreme mortification, keening slightly. “I thought you had so much practice.”
“Fuck you,” he managed, forcing the words out on ragged breaths, craning to glare at Spock. Was she goading him? Fine, if that’s how she wanted to play it. Kirk grit his teeth. He’ll show her there was nothing Jim T. Kirk couldn’t face down-that he was no coward, especially when it came to sex. “Fuck you both, you fucking-”
Uhura laughed and reached out to turn his face back to her. “Not yet,” she said, rich and dark as chocolate, laughing softly. “But maybe later.”
Then Spock pulled out, and Kirk was about to breathe a sigh of relief when something else started pushing back in, something large and slick and hard in a different way, something infinitely impossible, because if there was a single mathematical truth in the universe it was that no way was that son-of-a-bitch going to shove a cock up his-
“Remember, Kirk,” Spock said, and Kirk started; the voice was right next to his ear, warm and full of implications, reaching from the top of his neck all the way down his spine. “It is imperative that you relax.”
And then he was moving inexorably forward, as though the seconds had become minutes, torturous and slow and filling him to the brim. Kirk couldn’t breathe. He gripped at the sheets blindly, panting loud and fast into the crook of Uhura’s neck, like a winded stallion. It hurt every inch going in, but at the same time Uhura was moving against him, rolling her hips in languorous circles, twining her fingers through his hair and dropping kisses down his sweaty temple. She was soft and easy, comforting, until the moment he imagined her locking eyes with Spock above her head; their shared signals, the curves of their smiles.
He felt himself tensing at the thought, and behind him Spock made a slightly pained sound, probably feeling it in all the wrong places. Serves him right, Kirk thought, until Spock’s hand moved up from the peaked bones of Kirk’s hips to latch at that familiar spot between his neck and shoulder muscles.
“Oh, you are not serious-” Kirk began, because surely even Spock wasn’t messed up enough to want an unconscious bed partner, but Spock just dug in with his fingers, the same old incapacitating Vulcan battle trick. This time, though, the pressure must have been incrementally different, because instead of passing out Kirk felt himself relaxing all at once, the tension running out of him in a great big wave, muscles stretching and unfurling the way a ship’s engines started up, a tiny spark expanding and pushing everything else out.
Then Spock thrust, and he was completely unable to defend against it, open and laid bare for Uhura to see as his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’, choking on his own half-breath. It hit a spot in him which felt incredible, burning-hot, like someone had flipped a switch which he hadn’t known existed and suddenly sex was back to feeling great.
Uhura nipped at his lower lip. “Move in me.”
“I-” He wasn’t about to say it, but he couldn’t, too roughed-up and fucked-open, a collection of loose ends barely held together. Spock was buried completely in him, fitted solidly against Kirk’s ass, and Kirk could only mouth at Uhura’s skin and try to refrain from making any more undignified sounds.
“Certainly,” Spock’s voice above him was a surprise-low and rich, unexpectedly sensual. His hand moved from Kirk’s neck to his arm, down his chest, and came to a stop on his stomach, holding him steady. He started drawing back out, almost all the way, and Kirk thought for a panicked second that he’d pull out and simply go-but then Spock thrust back in sharply, strong and tight, and Kirk actually cried out as his hips were pushed forward, stuttering, rocking into Uhura with second-hand momentum.
“Yes,” she said, moaning; Spock was moving in him with long, thorough strokes, deep but not slow, setting up a steady rhythm which was driving him into Uhura. Her cunt clenched around him, tight and hot, but not as tight as he felt stretched around Spock, his spine pressed against Spock’s chest, Spock’s thigh slipping between Uhura’s and his own, joined everywhere and his hips constantly moving, pushing, fucking-
“Fucking,” he gasped, trying and failing to grasp a modicum of composure. “You fucking-”
“Yes, Kirk,” Spock breathed, like a living wall at his back, and bit him right below the joint of his jaw, at the spot on his neck which was the most sensitive. Kirk’s breath hitched. “That would seem to be the case.”
The words were ordinary, relatively speaking, but his voice was all broken up, ragged and uneven, catching on the last word. That got Kirk’s attention fast enough. Uhura untangled one hand from his hair and reached out to touch Spock; a graceful motion, like a wing unfurling. Spock leaned in, and Kirk could finally see his face: his dark eyes and high cheekbones, the pointed shell of his ears. His lips were dry against Uhura’s when he kissed her, but she wet them with her tongue, opening her mouth and moaning into the kiss, hot and dirty and completely unashamed. They were both sweating into the open air, heated and mussed, the very walls soaked and exuding the scent of sex.
Kirk stared, dumbstruck. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d thrown the off-hand comment about Spock and Uhura’s sex life at the command bridge; had been completely nonplussed to be taken up on his challenge. But he’d come in with all the usual swagger, figuring he’d try anything once, even watching his teammates try to have semi-human control freak sex.
Now, watching Spock twisting Uhura’s nipple expertly and making her pant against his mouth, the way she tightened around Kirk when he fisted a large hand in her hair-being pinned, from both sides, as Spock drove into him with long, hard strokes, fast and deep, pinning him down and really fucking him open, while Uhura shoved back against every thrust, dripping wet and smearing his cock and balls-trapped between them, pushed back and forth, while they kissed above him like two lions fighting over a piece of meat-
Then they broke apart for a moment, gasping for air, and both turned to glance down at him. Kirk was ensnared twofold, held captive by the sheer intensity of their gazes, and then he realized: they weren’t fighting, they were working together. They always had been. People thought they knew what went on between Spock and Uhura by spying on them in the cargo holds, but they had no idea. Formal interactions didn’t even scratch the surface. In private, they were just-something else.
He was still the piece of meat, though.
The thought must have shown on his face somehow, because they both smiled-Uhura sharp and wicked, Spock with a tiny twitch of his lips. They were equally sinister.
“Kirk,” Spock said, breathless, his cheeks and neck flushed, sweat rolling below his hairline. He had a bite mark at the corner of his mouth, where Uhura had gotten feisty. “Have you anything to say so far?”
You two are incredible. I had no idea. I’m out of my depth.
Kirk said, “Keep-keep kissing.”
Uhura grinned at him and leaned down to nip at his Adam’s apple, clever fingers twisting a nipple, and he jerked in her grasp, breath stuttering under her tongue. Spock buried his fingers in the thatch of pubic hair curling at the base of Kirk’s dick, exploratory, fingering the place where his body joined Uhura’s. It felt so good, and both their hands stayed on him, even as they moved away and started kissing each other. Uhura’s hair was dark like running ink on Spock’s chest, and his teeth were white and sharp against her lips.
They were a closed circuit, electricity crackling lightning-bright through all three of them, generated by the friction of Uhura on one side and Spock on the other, controlling his every move, playing him like a piano duet. Kirk’s hips jerked forward with every thrust from Spock, then back as Uhura pushed against him, both of them pinning him down between their thighs, an endless wave motion that spiralled higher and higher with every round, growing increasingly faster, Uhura and Spock exchanging oxygen and touches and him-
Uhura broke off, panting, “I’m-oh god, Spock-” and she tightened around him, riding out the first wave of an orgasm, fingers gripping Kirk’s arm and Spock’s lips bruising at her throat. It made Kirk swear under his breath; both the imagery and the sensations, Uhura losing herself like this under their shared influence, gasping sweat-slick and dishevelled and gorgeous.
Then Spock broke away to bite at Kirk’s ear, his thrusts getting faster, and he growled, “Your turn,” not a promise but an order, like he was daring Kirk to hold out and defy him. But Kirk had long ago lost control of this game, and he felt his gut clench in anticipation, just from Spock’s words, rising to the edge like a ship at a launching bay-he was powerless to disobey.
Didn’t mean he lost his fighting spirit entirely, though. “Ladies first?” he managed, trying to stop his breath from hiccupping as Spock drove into him, hips tight with the force of it, Uhura moaning besides them. “Figures you’d be a, a gentleman-”
“You’ll do the same for me,” Spock said, and now it was a promise; with just the thought of coming there again, of joining them-fucking Spock-Kirk came so hard he saw black spots in his vision, the hardest he’d come in his life, digging his nails into Spock’s thigh and biting the skin above Uhura’s breasts. He would have cried out but he had no air left, no composure, none of the things he’d come in with-nothing at all.
“Spock,” Uhura was purring when he finally came to-she had a thumb at the corner of Kirk’s mouth, tracing the arc of his upper lip and keeping his lips parted, casually possessive. “Come on. Come for us.”
Spock was panting now, eyes dark with arousal, staring at the both of them with such intensity-then his lashes fluttered shut and he lowered his head, as though in prayer. Kirk stretched his neck to try and see his expression, except Spock rested his mouth against the place he’d pressed with his fingers earlier, at the crook of his neck and shoulder, and then he bit Kirk, hard and shockingly painful, like he was actually looking to draw blood. His thrusts sped up, becoming shallower, and Kirk felt the orgasm like a second-hand blow-it echoed through him with borrowed momentum, knocking him into Uhura, the two of them equally affected: atoms in a chain reaction.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and Uhura caught his eyes, heavy-lidded but bright with understanding-this is what they did, what it felt like. Kirk knew his face was red, his whole body shuddering in the aftershocks, hypersensitive and overwhelmed. Uhura had this every night; she could watch Spock come and kiss his fingers and trace the curve of his ear whenever she wanted. Suddenly, with an irrational passion, he wanted that-both of them, together, apart, and everything they had between them.
He wanted to be a part of it.
Afterwards, drenched with sweat and bodily fluids, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Uhura reached out lazily and touched the bite marks: above her breasts, at the corner of Spock’s mouth, at the juncture of Kirk’s neck.
“Accidental,” she murmured, “but nice.”
“A pleasing symmetry,” Spock agreed. “Redolent of an exceptional night.”
Kirk thought of getting up and walking to his own quarters; of meeting Spock tomorrow and looking for the bruise at the angle of his lips; of brushing against Uhura and wondering whether he’d hit teeth marks. Bones would clap him on the shoulder and Kirk would grit his teeth, grinning, and pretend not to wince, because the way his shoulder was throbbing now he was due muscle pains for the next few days.
“I don’t want to get up,” he said. “I want to stay here. For tonight, at least.”
There was a pause. “Well,” said Uhura, voice deceptively light. “Do you promise not to be an insufferable twat about it?”
“Yes,” Kirk said, and meant it. Spock hefted himself up on one elbow and stared into his eyes, searching. Kirk met his gaze and stared back, as honestly as he could.
Finally, Spock glanced up at Uhura. “I believe it could be a satisfactory conclusion.”
She raised an eyebrow, but she nodded, and lay her head down on Kirk’s shoulder like he was a pillow which had been there all along. Then she snuggled into him. “Hmph. Fine by me.”
Kirk let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. True, it wasn’t on his terms, entirely out of his control, but he found he didn’t care. They all lay down together that night, curled up and naked, touching at the chest and hips, their mingled breaths like an endless wave motion in the darkness.
All characters © their respective owners; I claim no right nor profit.
Yet again, inspired by and dedicated to sabrina_il, with apologies for driving her slightly crazy. Warning: borderline dubcon. Post-movie. Thanks to roga for the magnificent beta.
Laws of Motion
“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
-Isaac Newton
“So, how’re we gonna do this, people?”
Uhura looked at him, long and steady, and for a second Kirk thought he’d managed to get a rise out of her-until she smiled. It wasn’t vicious, but neither was it particularly comforting; more as though here, in this room, his drawling sarcasm couldn’t touch her. She turned to look at Spock, one perfectly-styled eyebrow raised in question, unruffled and faintly amused.
Spock looked back, and they seemed to have a silent exchange of words, probably at a telepathic wavelength accessible only to obsessive-compulsive control freaks. Kirk shifted slightly, annoyed. Secrets were bastards, especially open ones, and the exchanges of unspoken intimacy-starting from yesterday, when he’d first propositioned them, and continuing up to this minute-were getting on his nerves. He was just about to make a snide remark about turning off the ‘mute’ button when Spock turned to him, slow and calm, looking straight into his eyes.
“I think,” he said decisively, “it would be most efficacious if you were to get on the bed.”
Kirk looked at the object in question, and was impressed despite himself. The bed, positioned at the far end of the room, was large and looked comfortable-an unprecedented concept in Starfleet, but apparently the Enterprise was a revolutionary ship in more ways than just its state-of-the-art navigation system. Kirk hadn’t known the captain had such benefits as a deluxe bedroom suite, but then, he’d never been in the captain’s room. Spock had claimed that spot first, after all, and when Kirk had taken over he hadn’t thought to inquire about any other bonuses which came with the package. Who needed anything else, other than commanding your own ship? But no, apparently the captain was due a king-sized mattress as well; it made sense, since most of them were middle-aged family men or women, with spouses and kids en suite. Which, okay, Spock totally wasn’t like that, but he did have Uhura, and the thought of them laying down together at night, curled up and naked, touching at the chest, the hips, the-
“Captain?” Uhura said. She was looking at him quizzically, head tilted slightly to the side.
“Yes,” Kirk said automatically, and mentally shook himself. This was ridiculous; he was Jim Kirk and they were going to have sex, there was nothing to get flustered over in this scenario. “Call me Kirk. Bit silly to stand on formalities here, isn’t it?”
“Kirk,” she allowed, and when Spock turned to look at the bed, she followed his gaze. Kirk sauntered up to it, natural as anything, and made a show of testing the firmness and raising his eyebrows at Spock, as if to say this is your military-regulated bunk? Then he nonchalantly toed off his boots and clambered up to the middle of it, squatting on his haunches and turning back to face the two of them, expectant.
“You two gonna join, or what?”
“Nervous?” Uhura asked. She had freed her hair, which was a sight to see, and climbed on the bed, much more gracefully than Kirk had, not stopping until she was right up close and personal, her bosom taking up his entire field of vision. Kirk tilted his face up and for several seconds could do nothing but stare. As a cadet, he’d been known to suffer from tunnel vision occasionally, especially in practice simulations, but he was fairly certain this wasn’t it. For one thing, there was no ‘practice’ here.
“No,” he said belatedly, when he zoned in enough to answer, because that was his automatic reply when someone questioned his nerve. Then he turned it around. “Are you?”
She rested two of her fingertips on the zipper of his suit, gently pressing it into the dip of his collarbone, a contemplative expression on her face. “No,” she said at length. “I’ve got someone to watch my back.” And her eyes flicked upwards for a second, looking above Kirk at the other end of the bed, and she grinned. Before he could twist to follow her gaze, though, she snapped back to him and tugged the zipper down, neatly disrobing him from neck to navel in one whip-sharp move.
“Woah there,” he said, or tried to; Uhura pushed him back on the bed and effortlessly moved to straddle him, taking both his hands in hers and placing them on her waist. Her ass placed itself firmly on his crotch, and whatever witty remark he’d had ready to fire disintegrated into a fine mist. Her earrings, silver and ruby, glinted in the dim light, and her short uniform skirt hitched up around her thighs in dark folds. All in all, a very pleasing aesthetic.
He said so, because he was given to complimenting women, and added, “You seem eager,” because he was equally given to complimenting himself.
Uhura rolled her eyes. “Want me to take you on a date and buy you flowers first?”
“I don’t know,” Kirk looked innocent. “What kind of flowers?”
Uhura decided to shut up him by kissing him, which showed definite leadership skills, because if ever there was a win-win solution to a problem, this was it. He licked into her mouth, doing a trick with his tongue he’d learned off a former girlfriend and making happy noises. Kirk was a vocal kind of guy, always had been, and he’d never seen the sense in holding back during sex. Besides, having Nyota Uhura sitting in his lap and kissing him like a woman gone wild would have warranted positive feedback in anyone’s book.
Uhura spread her palms like a dove’s outstretched wings, fingers unfurling against the sweep of his collarbone, and her skin was soft and warm, both over and beneath his hands. He moved down her sides slowly, then back up, learning her curves and angles: she was small and sleek, responding to every touch, sensitive as a fine-tuned instrument. When he finally cupped her breasts, thumb flicking at a nipple, her breath caught. It was a sound he’d never heard from her before, and it was so hot he did it again, just for that, and rolled his hips upwards, grinning when she moved with him, arching into his hands and tugging down the sleeves of his suit. He let go just enough to help her, then started unzipping her own uniform-he’d learned his way around the girls’ attire in the first week of his academy training-pushing the shirt over her head and undoing the clasp of her bra one-handed. She was beautiful, faintly musk-scented, and right now she was entirely his.
She moved to shrug out of her bra, but he intercepted her, unhooking it from her shoulders with expert ease. At her nonplussed expression, he smiled, wide and shameless. “I’ve had lots of practice. And I’m good with my hands.”
“However, modesty still eludes you,” she said, trying to be scathing, then totally put the lie to her words when she reached down and yanked the rest of his suit down his hips, because how was he supposed to act modest when she was practically drooling to get at his dick? He’d seen it since the first night at the bar, and-as Bones knew in excruciating detail-Jim Kirk was never wrong when it came to the fairer sex. Add another tally to the scoreboard:
Womankind: 0
Kirk: → ∞
So far, everything was going according to plan.
In pretty short order they were both naked, Uhura rubbing against him in delicious short thrusts, his hand curved tight in the niche of her waist and another moving lazily down the cleft of her ass. The sound of her tiny gasps was an incredible soundtrack, a victory in its own right. Life was perfect.
He had to come back and revise that statement shortly afterwards when she grabbed his shoulders for balance and gently lowered herself down, the going as smooth as operating in zero G, a horizon of warm brown skin spread out above him. All Starfleet personnel were vaccinated against STDs, so there was none of that messing about he’d been forced to endure in his youth, when the poor and uninsured were forced to deal with condoms. The feel of his cock inside her, skin to skin, was intoxicating as only a woman’s body could be. Her shiny black tangle of hair cascaded in a waterfall between them, swinging with her movements, and her breath was hot on his cheek, the bow of her upper lip wet and red; so tight, fuck-
When she pulled him to her and said, “Come on, roll over,” he thought she meant fuck me into the mattress, so he obeyed faster than blinking, leaning one elbow on the bed and tilting sideways, loving the way her body drew him down, thighs clenched around his pelvis, completely sheathed and fire-hot. She stared up at him, cheeks flushed, lashes curving long and dark, fierce and desperate and gasping for him like oxygen.
He was completely unprepared for the sudden dip in the mattress behind him, or the firm hands gripping his shoulder and ass, or the voice behind him that said, “Please inhale deeply, Kirk, and relax your sphincteral muscles.”
“What-” he tried to jerk away, but the hands on him were like iron clamps, and Spock’s fingers skilfully found his entrance, holding him still and steadily pushing in. His skin was wet and cold, covered in some kind of lubricant, and Kirk was about to whip up one hell of a storm yelling at that goddamn motherfucking piece of shit Vulcan, because what the fucking fuck-but then Spock’s finger made it past the first ring of muscle and Kirk’s words died somewhere in his throat.
He tried to struggle then, to get up and away, but Uhura’s thighs pinned him as securely as steel, her hands gripping his forearms and locking them in place. She was stronger than she looked, damn her, and with Spock on the other side, he didn’t have any leeway. They held him fast between them, hooked from both sides, and he was trapped.
Uhura was beneath him, looking up directly at his face, and her eyes were dark and hungry as she stared, drinking him in. She was actually smiling, the traitorous bitch. “You look so shocked,” she murmured, voice low and pleased. “Never been penetrated before?”
“Shit no,” Kirk tried to say, and maybe throw her off in order to jam an elbow into Spock’s solar plexus, but he was cut off as Uhura rocked against him sharply, muscles clenching around his cock. Spock flexed his finger, added another, pushing out and then further in, and Kirk choked on his own words, shuddering full-bodied. It felt so strange, so alien, so-
“Why is that?” she asked, and Spock, at his back, made a small sound which might have been amusement. He added another finger, and Kirk found himself, to his extreme mortification, keening slightly. “I thought you had so much practice.”
“Fuck you,” he managed, forcing the words out on ragged breaths, craning to glare at Spock. Was she goading him? Fine, if that’s how she wanted to play it. Kirk grit his teeth. He’ll show her there was nothing Jim T. Kirk couldn’t face down-that he was no coward, especially when it came to sex. “Fuck you both, you fucking-”
Uhura laughed and reached out to turn his face back to her. “Not yet,” she said, rich and dark as chocolate, laughing softly. “But maybe later.”
Then Spock pulled out, and Kirk was about to breathe a sigh of relief when something else started pushing back in, something large and slick and hard in a different way, something infinitely impossible, because if there was a single mathematical truth in the universe it was that no way was that son-of-a-bitch going to shove a cock up his-
“Remember, Kirk,” Spock said, and Kirk started; the voice was right next to his ear, warm and full of implications, reaching from the top of his neck all the way down his spine. “It is imperative that you relax.”
And then he was moving inexorably forward, as though the seconds had become minutes, torturous and slow and filling him to the brim. Kirk couldn’t breathe. He gripped at the sheets blindly, panting loud and fast into the crook of Uhura’s neck, like a winded stallion. It hurt every inch going in, but at the same time Uhura was moving against him, rolling her hips in languorous circles, twining her fingers through his hair and dropping kisses down his sweaty temple. She was soft and easy, comforting, until the moment he imagined her locking eyes with Spock above her head; their shared signals, the curves of their smiles.
He felt himself tensing at the thought, and behind him Spock made a slightly pained sound, probably feeling it in all the wrong places. Serves him right, Kirk thought, until Spock’s hand moved up from the peaked bones of Kirk’s hips to latch at that familiar spot between his neck and shoulder muscles.
“Oh, you are not serious-” Kirk began, because surely even Spock wasn’t messed up enough to want an unconscious bed partner, but Spock just dug in with his fingers, the same old incapacitating Vulcan battle trick. This time, though, the pressure must have been incrementally different, because instead of passing out Kirk felt himself relaxing all at once, the tension running out of him in a great big wave, muscles stretching and unfurling the way a ship’s engines started up, a tiny spark expanding and pushing everything else out.
Then Spock thrust, and he was completely unable to defend against it, open and laid bare for Uhura to see as his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’, choking on his own half-breath. It hit a spot in him which felt incredible, burning-hot, like someone had flipped a switch which he hadn’t known existed and suddenly sex was back to feeling great.
Uhura nipped at his lower lip. “Move in me.”
“I-” He wasn’t about to say it, but he couldn’t, too roughed-up and fucked-open, a collection of loose ends barely held together. Spock was buried completely in him, fitted solidly against Kirk’s ass, and Kirk could only mouth at Uhura’s skin and try to refrain from making any more undignified sounds.
“Certainly,” Spock’s voice above him was a surprise-low and rich, unexpectedly sensual. His hand moved from Kirk’s neck to his arm, down his chest, and came to a stop on his stomach, holding him steady. He started drawing back out, almost all the way, and Kirk thought for a panicked second that he’d pull out and simply go-but then Spock thrust back in sharply, strong and tight, and Kirk actually cried out as his hips were pushed forward, stuttering, rocking into Uhura with second-hand momentum.
“Yes,” she said, moaning; Spock was moving in him with long, thorough strokes, deep but not slow, setting up a steady rhythm which was driving him into Uhura. Her cunt clenched around him, tight and hot, but not as tight as he felt stretched around Spock, his spine pressed against Spock’s chest, Spock’s thigh slipping between Uhura’s and his own, joined everywhere and his hips constantly moving, pushing, fucking-
“Fucking,” he gasped, trying and failing to grasp a modicum of composure. “You fucking-”
“Yes, Kirk,” Spock breathed, like a living wall at his back, and bit him right below the joint of his jaw, at the spot on his neck which was the most sensitive. Kirk’s breath hitched. “That would seem to be the case.”
The words were ordinary, relatively speaking, but his voice was all broken up, ragged and uneven, catching on the last word. That got Kirk’s attention fast enough. Uhura untangled one hand from his hair and reached out to touch Spock; a graceful motion, like a wing unfurling. Spock leaned in, and Kirk could finally see his face: his dark eyes and high cheekbones, the pointed shell of his ears. His lips were dry against Uhura’s when he kissed her, but she wet them with her tongue, opening her mouth and moaning into the kiss, hot and dirty and completely unashamed. They were both sweating into the open air, heated and mussed, the very walls soaked and exuding the scent of sex.
Kirk stared, dumbstruck. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d thrown the off-hand comment about Spock and Uhura’s sex life at the command bridge; had been completely nonplussed to be taken up on his challenge. But he’d come in with all the usual swagger, figuring he’d try anything once, even watching his teammates try to have semi-human control freak sex.
Now, watching Spock twisting Uhura’s nipple expertly and making her pant against his mouth, the way she tightened around Kirk when he fisted a large hand in her hair-being pinned, from both sides, as Spock drove into him with long, hard strokes, fast and deep, pinning him down and really fucking him open, while Uhura shoved back against every thrust, dripping wet and smearing his cock and balls-trapped between them, pushed back and forth, while they kissed above him like two lions fighting over a piece of meat-
Then they broke apart for a moment, gasping for air, and both turned to glance down at him. Kirk was ensnared twofold, held captive by the sheer intensity of their gazes, and then he realized: they weren’t fighting, they were working together. They always had been. People thought they knew what went on between Spock and Uhura by spying on them in the cargo holds, but they had no idea. Formal interactions didn’t even scratch the surface. In private, they were just-something else.
He was still the piece of meat, though.
The thought must have shown on his face somehow, because they both smiled-Uhura sharp and wicked, Spock with a tiny twitch of his lips. They were equally sinister.
“Kirk,” Spock said, breathless, his cheeks and neck flushed, sweat rolling below his hairline. He had a bite mark at the corner of his mouth, where Uhura had gotten feisty. “Have you anything to say so far?”
You two are incredible. I had no idea. I’m out of my depth.
Kirk said, “Keep-keep kissing.”
Uhura grinned at him and leaned down to nip at his Adam’s apple, clever fingers twisting a nipple, and he jerked in her grasp, breath stuttering under her tongue. Spock buried his fingers in the thatch of pubic hair curling at the base of Kirk’s dick, exploratory, fingering the place where his body joined Uhura’s. It felt so good, and both their hands stayed on him, even as they moved away and started kissing each other. Uhura’s hair was dark like running ink on Spock’s chest, and his teeth were white and sharp against her lips.
They were a closed circuit, electricity crackling lightning-bright through all three of them, generated by the friction of Uhura on one side and Spock on the other, controlling his every move, playing him like a piano duet. Kirk’s hips jerked forward with every thrust from Spock, then back as Uhura pushed against him, both of them pinning him down between their thighs, an endless wave motion that spiralled higher and higher with every round, growing increasingly faster, Uhura and Spock exchanging oxygen and touches and him-
Uhura broke off, panting, “I’m-oh god, Spock-” and she tightened around him, riding out the first wave of an orgasm, fingers gripping Kirk’s arm and Spock’s lips bruising at her throat. It made Kirk swear under his breath; both the imagery and the sensations, Uhura losing herself like this under their shared influence, gasping sweat-slick and dishevelled and gorgeous.
Then Spock broke away to bite at Kirk’s ear, his thrusts getting faster, and he growled, “Your turn,” not a promise but an order, like he was daring Kirk to hold out and defy him. But Kirk had long ago lost control of this game, and he felt his gut clench in anticipation, just from Spock’s words, rising to the edge like a ship at a launching bay-he was powerless to disobey.
Didn’t mean he lost his fighting spirit entirely, though. “Ladies first?” he managed, trying to stop his breath from hiccupping as Spock drove into him, hips tight with the force of it, Uhura moaning besides them. “Figures you’d be a, a gentleman-”
“You’ll do the same for me,” Spock said, and now it was a promise; with just the thought of coming there again, of joining them-fucking Spock-Kirk came so hard he saw black spots in his vision, the hardest he’d come in his life, digging his nails into Spock’s thigh and biting the skin above Uhura’s breasts. He would have cried out but he had no air left, no composure, none of the things he’d come in with-nothing at all.
“Spock,” Uhura was purring when he finally came to-she had a thumb at the corner of Kirk’s mouth, tracing the arc of his upper lip and keeping his lips parted, casually possessive. “Come on. Come for us.”
Spock was panting now, eyes dark with arousal, staring at the both of them with such intensity-then his lashes fluttered shut and he lowered his head, as though in prayer. Kirk stretched his neck to try and see his expression, except Spock rested his mouth against the place he’d pressed with his fingers earlier, at the crook of his neck and shoulder, and then he bit Kirk, hard and shockingly painful, like he was actually looking to draw blood. His thrusts sped up, becoming shallower, and Kirk felt the orgasm like a second-hand blow-it echoed through him with borrowed momentum, knocking him into Uhura, the two of them equally affected: atoms in a chain reaction.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and Uhura caught his eyes, heavy-lidded but bright with understanding-this is what they did, what it felt like. Kirk knew his face was red, his whole body shuddering in the aftershocks, hypersensitive and overwhelmed. Uhura had this every night; she could watch Spock come and kiss his fingers and trace the curve of his ear whenever she wanted. Suddenly, with an irrational passion, he wanted that-both of them, together, apart, and everything they had between them.
He wanted to be a part of it.
Afterwards, drenched with sweat and bodily fluids, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Uhura reached out lazily and touched the bite marks: above her breasts, at the corner of Spock’s mouth, at the juncture of Kirk’s neck.
“Accidental,” she murmured, “but nice.”
“A pleasing symmetry,” Spock agreed. “Redolent of an exceptional night.”
Kirk thought of getting up and walking to his own quarters; of meeting Spock tomorrow and looking for the bruise at the angle of his lips; of brushing against Uhura and wondering whether he’d hit teeth marks. Bones would clap him on the shoulder and Kirk would grit his teeth, grinning, and pretend not to wince, because the way his shoulder was throbbing now he was due muscle pains for the next few days.
“I don’t want to get up,” he said. “I want to stay here. For tonight, at least.”
There was a pause. “Well,” said Uhura, voice deceptively light. “Do you promise not to be an insufferable twat about it?”
“Yes,” Kirk said, and meant it. Spock hefted himself up on one elbow and stared into his eyes, searching. Kirk met his gaze and stared back, as honestly as he could.
Finally, Spock glanced up at Uhura. “I believe it could be a satisfactory conclusion.”
She raised an eyebrow, but she nodded, and lay her head down on Kirk’s shoulder like he was a pillow which had been there all along. Then she snuggled into him. “Hmph. Fine by me.”
Kirk let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. True, it wasn’t on his terms, entirely out of his control, but he found he didn’t care. They all lay down together that night, curled up and naked, touching at the chest and hips, their mingled breaths like an endless wave motion in the darkness.
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