Ramble!fic wherein Jim is whipped in the line of duty (2,365 words, PG-13, Jim+Spock+Uhura)
Fororder_of_chaos, who requested Uhura whipping Jim using Spock's hands as restraints. A fade-to-black counts, right?
2,365 words, PG-13 for language and sexual content, Jim+Spock+Uhura with mention of Bones, The Ex, and Pike
Jim glances over at the ceremonial circle being inscribed in the sand and scratches his head. "Tell me again why I'm the one getting publicly flogged?"
Uhura smirks at him, all warm and sharp and unfairly hot, and says, "It's because of your creamy white skin."
Jim would like to gape in astonishment, but Uhura gets smug when he does that. Also, his mouth has decided to act of its own volition: "Spock is way paler than I am!" he cries, and ok, maybe that's not strictly true, but Jim is tan in spirit and that's what matters.
"His blood is green," Uhura says, as if Jim's an idiot.
"Woah, you're going to make me bleed?" Jim has to draw the line there because this is an alien planet with all kinds of crazy pathogens and Bones has lectured him way too many times on the importance of unbroken skin as the body's greatest protection. That's the only reason and if they were in a controlled environment he'd be totally down with getting sliced up. Maybe not, you know, down with it in a 'whoo, let's do this' way but Jim is hardcore, ok, and doesn't even ask people to kiss his boo-boos anymore (unless his mom is already standing there, of course.)
"Whipping causes welts," Uhura says, still with an inflection of You dumbass. Luckily for Jim, he likes that. He also likes it when she goes into Professor Mode: "The semiotics of this ritual require certain physiological reactions, and if they are inconsistent with those of the natives-"
"Alright, alright, I get it," Jim says. "You can't whip Spock because it'll make the font the wrong color." He flicks a glance at Spock to see what his opinion of this is.
Spock seems vaguely impatient, like he's already deduced that Jim is going to consent and this discussion is merely a waste of time. For a guy who spends so much time tripping Bones into pointless arguments, Spock sure has a dim view of antagonistical flirting. Or maybe he just doesn't like Jim flirting with his girlfriend.
Well, tough crap on that, because if Jim's gonna get whipped he's going to get some fun out of it. He cocks an eyebrow at Uhura. "You do know all the symbols, right? I don't want to get run out of town because your handwriting sucks."
Ooh, frosty. "I am a level six certified calligraphist, actually," Uhura says.
Jim grins. He doesn't even know why Uhura tries to play it cool with him anymore. They both know that after all these years, he can piss her off in five seconds flat (that's the average mark; his best confirmed time is a second and a half. That was a magical night, filled with flashing eyes and furrowed brows. Once the safety paint entered the fray, Uhura was literally incandescent with rage. Jim wrote a poem about it as soon as he got back to his bunk.)
"Level six, huh?" he says. "When did you start using a whip instead of a brush? Level four?"
Spock steps forward and Jim deflates a little. Spock is a new variable in the epic sexy saga of Kirk vs. Uhura and though Jim will figure him out eventually, it's taking longer than he expected (not like the five minute learning curve he had with Uhura, but then again her pigtails are extra long, all the better to tug on.) In the meantime, Jim tends to faceplant on Spock's dry comments and that doesn't exactly put him at advantage in these unrequited love spats. But that's ok, because Jim's motto is that it's not about whether you win or lose, it's how you turn a lose into a win regardless. That's why he only likes to argue with hot people.
Spock, who is definitely hot enough to qualify, says, "I can attest that Lieutenant Uhura has ample experience with the necessary implement."
Jim manfully resists the urge to grin like a crazy person and gives Spock a sidelong glance. "Who'd she practice on?" he asks. He decides against winking because Spock's a subtle and serious kind of guy, but then does it anyway, just out of habit. Oh well. At least that earns him a slow blink, the Spock equivalent of You appear to be a representative specimen of the archetype which humans refer to as a 'rascal.'
That's Jim's best guess, anyway. Uhura has been very uncooperative in helping him hash out the finer details of Spockisms.
At least she doesn't skimp when it comes to emotional expression. "I borrowed a teaching dummy from Medbay, Kirk," she snaps, and doles out a healthy portion of 'exasperated eyeroll' to go with it. "Don't be so prurient."
Oh but you love it, Jim thinks, but doesn't say so out loud because the sentiment usually tips Uhura from 'feisty' to 'walking away.' Some people just can't handle the truth.
Instead, he waggles his eyebrows. That's always a winning move. "So am I gonna be the first person you've ever whipped?" he says, but not meanly because really, this is such an honor.
Uhura tilts her head, eyes slit. "I never said that."
Oh. Well. Maybe Jim isn't going to pop her BDSM cherry, but now he does get to imagine who she might've whipped before. His first thought is Bones, purely because Jim suspects that his sex life is closer to butter pecan than vanilla. He doesn't have any hard evidence, but one day Jim casually mentioned that Bones' ex-wife had tied him up and Bones casually flew into a jealous rage. In retrospect Jim probably should have opened the conversation with "Commander Haprin guest-instructed my survival class today and her manner was entirely professional" but whatever, live and learn. Jim isn't too bitter because Bones was super nice to him all week on account of feeling guilty about the bruises. (Jim felt it best not to mention that The Ex was probably responsible for those, too.)
But obviously Bones would've told Jim (and been way less cranky) if he'd been getting any action, so that still leaves the question of who Uhura's dug her claws into before now. Jim is stumped aside from a vague fleeting image of Uhura yanking Chekov around the bridge by the hair and forcing him crawl up the dais to the Captain's chair where Spock is waiting with his shirt rucked up ever so slightly, but Jim doesn't know where the hell that came from and he's banishing it immediately and forever. Or at least until Chekov's birthday.
Sometimes, the best method of gathering information is the most direct: "How many guys have you whipped?" he asks. "Or girls."
Uhura gets a sly look on her face but before she can answer, Spock intones, "Commander, that inquiry is inappropriate."
"But asking me to take my shirt off so she can beat me isn't?" Jim scoffs.
Spock tilts his head to the side like he does to concede that from an imperfect perspective your utterance bears slight resemblance to a valid point, but he's still right and you're wrong. "This request falls well within the parameters of duties which senior officers may be reasonably expected to perform."
"Listen," says Kirk, "I know it was probably the best birthday present you've ever gotten, but that handbook of regulations I gave you was a joke. Pike can't actually ask us to do the Congress of the Cow."
"I told you it from him," Uhura mutters.
"I did not disagree with your assessment," Spock replies. "I merely stated that there were multiple possibilities which-"
"I'm still not convinced this is gonna fly with regulations," Jim interrupts, because there's nothing more boring than being an innocent bystander to another couple's tired spat (Jim even has the scientific research to back it up: he's overheard way too many arguments between Bones and his ex-wife and Bones is a scientist. QED.) Also, he's not sure if he should be flattered that Spock and Uhura have spent time discussing him or offended that they even considered that someone else was responsible for that inspired gift. "Can you really see Captain Pike explaining this to the Admiralty?"
Uhura turns to look at him snap-quick, and that's a change from the way she usually turns to him: torso swiveling first, then a fluid motion of the neck with the head following. The eyes move last, and slowly, as if they're connected to Spock with strings of glue. Jim doesn't mind; it means he can leer at her for a few seconds longer without her noticing him, which is awesome, and he likes watching her watch Spock.
But Jim is immediately on edge because this time, she leads with her eyes. "Captain Pike approved this mission," she says.
Of course Jim knows that; Pike has to approve all missions, so why would that-Oh. "Does this have anything to do with-" Jim cuts himself off because either the answer is 'yes' and he'll be depressed, or the answer is 'no' and he'll look like a paranoid idiot.
Uhura's been taking lessons on mind-reading from her boyfriend or else she and Jim have a love-connection (either would be acceptable in Jim's opinion) because her smirk is scarily triumphant. It's also scarily familiar.
See, exactly two weeks ago Jim was chasing Uhura as she marched to the ready room to tattle on Jim for what was decidedly not sexual harassment and even if it was, Jim wouldn't dream of treating any other crewmember (except maybe Bones, if he's in a good mood) in a similar manner so Uhura should have been flattered. In fact, she probably was flattered, considering how chipper she was beneath the veneer of righteous indignation. Still, Jim was on thin ice after the Andorian debacle, so just before they hit the final corridor he grabbed her arm and said, I swear, Uhura, if Pike hears one more thing about my 'unprofessional demeanor' he's going to take his belt off.
That's when Uhura gave him The Smirk. Then she patted his hand and walked away, and Jim congratulated himself on dodging the bullet.
It was a boomerang bullet, apparently.
"This is a conspiracy to commit harm against a fellow officer!" Jim blurts out, because that is totally what it is and look, Uhura's not even trying to deny it. She's balls-out laughing and that's a low blow because she's extra pretty when she laughs.
Jim turns away from her and looks at Spock instead, who is comfortingly grave.
"Commander Kirk," he says, "that is a very serious accusation. If you are to lodge a request for a formal inquiry, I would suggest-"
"I bet Pike's in on it!" Jim hisses, and he'll make a face-to-face accusation just as soon as he gets back aboard, procedures be damned. The old coot'll probably just laugh, too, all crinkly and handsome and evil. Jim's life sucks.
Spock simply micro-tilts his head to the other side. "You may address your concerns directly to the Admiralty," he says.
"But that would get them in trouble," Jim says. He loves the guy, but sometimes Spock has really terrible ideas.
Uhura snorts in a lady-like manner and rests her forehead briefly on Spock's shoulder. "Oh my god, he's adorable," she mumbles.
Well hang on, it appears that the James T. Kirk No-Lose philosophy has triumphed once again. Jim grins charmingly at Uhura. "Don't worry, I'm not going to file a complaint," he assures her. "I'm definitely going to include all the steamy details on my erotic blog, though. I'll be sure to send you the link."
"I've read that blog!" Uhura says, and score, she's stepping closer to Jim, like a jaguar or an Isopian or that coiled toy that goes downstairs. You know, slinky. "The entries tagged 'bovine' were particularly enlightening," she adds.
"I think you and Bessie would really get along," Jim says, going to meet her halfway. "You want me to arrange an introduction?" She smells really nice. It's probably just the standard-issue shampoo but she looks great and that affects smell, ok, Jim did an experiment on it in elementary school. Or maybe it was that smell affects taste. Whatever. He'll test that out on Uhura, too.
Spock is still standing to the side, displaying his impressive talent for not getting in on the action (although, to be fair, he is dating Uhura so his action-getting skills should maybe not be called into question.) "Commander, you are once more being inappropriate."
"Spock, this whole conversation is inappropriate," Jim says dismissively. "Listen," he says, angling his shoulders at Uhura who, after a quick glance at Spock, angles hers to mirror him. "When you start whaling on me, do you want me to endure it in stoic silence or moan a little?"
Uhura's mouth opens just slightest bit, offering a faint glimmer of teeth and tongue in the dark.
Jim can feel victory tingling in the back of his throat, an echo of the adrenaline spark he feels in the moment before a really good orgasm. "Of course," he adds with a touch of casualness, "if you want to make me cry like a bitch, that'll have to be a private session."
Uhura snaps her mouth shut again but that just makes Jim grin wider. "You're thinking about it, aren't you," he says. "You're planning out all the little details."
Uhura holds up her hand, palm out. Jim's about to protest-they were in the zone, ok, and it's not right to play him hot and cold like that-but then she points with her finger and suddenly Spock grabs Jim by the arms and hauls him back.
"Woah," says Jim, pulling instinctively against the grip and nearly losing his balance when he moves Spock precisely not at all. Spock merely leans Jim back against his chest until he gets his feet planted again. "This is. Um," says Jim. He tries to shove back but Spock is as solid as a bulkhead. A lithe, overwarm bulkhead breathing in measured gusts against Jim's ear.
"Miss Uhura prefers to improvise," says Spock. "It is I who would determine the logistics."
2,365 words, PG-13 for language and sexual content, Jim+Spock+Uhura with mention of Bones, The Ex, and Pike
Jim glances over at the ceremonial circle being inscribed in the sand and scratches his head. "Tell me again why I'm the one getting publicly flogged?"
Uhura smirks at him, all warm and sharp and unfairly hot, and says, "It's because of your creamy white skin."
Jim would like to gape in astonishment, but Uhura gets smug when he does that. Also, his mouth has decided to act of its own volition: "Spock is way paler than I am!" he cries, and ok, maybe that's not strictly true, but Jim is tan in spirit and that's what matters.
"His blood is green," Uhura says, as if Jim's an idiot.
"Woah, you're going to make me bleed?" Jim has to draw the line there because this is an alien planet with all kinds of crazy pathogens and Bones has lectured him way too many times on the importance of unbroken skin as the body's greatest protection. That's the only reason and if they were in a controlled environment he'd be totally down with getting sliced up. Maybe not, you know, down with it in a 'whoo, let's do this' way but Jim is hardcore, ok, and doesn't even ask people to kiss his boo-boos anymore (unless his mom is already standing there, of course.)
"Whipping causes welts," Uhura says, still with an inflection of You dumbass. Luckily for Jim, he likes that. He also likes it when she goes into Professor Mode: "The semiotics of this ritual require certain physiological reactions, and if they are inconsistent with those of the natives-"
"Alright, alright, I get it," Jim says. "You can't whip Spock because it'll make the font the wrong color." He flicks a glance at Spock to see what his opinion of this is.
Spock seems vaguely impatient, like he's already deduced that Jim is going to consent and this discussion is merely a waste of time. For a guy who spends so much time tripping Bones into pointless arguments, Spock sure has a dim view of antagonistical flirting. Or maybe he just doesn't like Jim flirting with his girlfriend.
Well, tough crap on that, because if Jim's gonna get whipped he's going to get some fun out of it. He cocks an eyebrow at Uhura. "You do know all the symbols, right? I don't want to get run out of town because your handwriting sucks."
Ooh, frosty. "I am a level six certified calligraphist, actually," Uhura says.
Jim grins. He doesn't even know why Uhura tries to play it cool with him anymore. They both know that after all these years, he can piss her off in five seconds flat (that's the average mark; his best confirmed time is a second and a half. That was a magical night, filled with flashing eyes and furrowed brows. Once the safety paint entered the fray, Uhura was literally incandescent with rage. Jim wrote a poem about it as soon as he got back to his bunk.)
"Level six, huh?" he says. "When did you start using a whip instead of a brush? Level four?"
Spock steps forward and Jim deflates a little. Spock is a new variable in the epic sexy saga of Kirk vs. Uhura and though Jim will figure him out eventually, it's taking longer than he expected (not like the five minute learning curve he had with Uhura, but then again her pigtails are extra long, all the better to tug on.) In the meantime, Jim tends to faceplant on Spock's dry comments and that doesn't exactly put him at advantage in these unrequited love spats. But that's ok, because Jim's motto is that it's not about whether you win or lose, it's how you turn a lose into a win regardless. That's why he only likes to argue with hot people.
Spock, who is definitely hot enough to qualify, says, "I can attest that Lieutenant Uhura has ample experience with the necessary implement."
Jim manfully resists the urge to grin like a crazy person and gives Spock a sidelong glance. "Who'd she practice on?" he asks. He decides against winking because Spock's a subtle and serious kind of guy, but then does it anyway, just out of habit. Oh well. At least that earns him a slow blink, the Spock equivalent of You appear to be a representative specimen of the archetype which humans refer to as a 'rascal.'
That's Jim's best guess, anyway. Uhura has been very uncooperative in helping him hash out the finer details of Spockisms.
At least she doesn't skimp when it comes to emotional expression. "I borrowed a teaching dummy from Medbay, Kirk," she snaps, and doles out a healthy portion of 'exasperated eyeroll' to go with it. "Don't be so prurient."
Oh but you love it, Jim thinks, but doesn't say so out loud because the sentiment usually tips Uhura from 'feisty' to 'walking away.' Some people just can't handle the truth.
Instead, he waggles his eyebrows. That's always a winning move. "So am I gonna be the first person you've ever whipped?" he says, but not meanly because really, this is such an honor.
Uhura tilts her head, eyes slit. "I never said that."
Oh. Well. Maybe Jim isn't going to pop her BDSM cherry, but now he does get to imagine who she might've whipped before. His first thought is Bones, purely because Jim suspects that his sex life is closer to butter pecan than vanilla. He doesn't have any hard evidence, but one day Jim casually mentioned that Bones' ex-wife had tied him up and Bones casually flew into a jealous rage. In retrospect Jim probably should have opened the conversation with "Commander Haprin guest-instructed my survival class today and her manner was entirely professional" but whatever, live and learn. Jim isn't too bitter because Bones was super nice to him all week on account of feeling guilty about the bruises. (Jim felt it best not to mention that The Ex was probably responsible for those, too.)
But obviously Bones would've told Jim (and been way less cranky) if he'd been getting any action, so that still leaves the question of who Uhura's dug her claws into before now. Jim is stumped aside from a vague fleeting image of Uhura yanking Chekov around the bridge by the hair and forcing him crawl up the dais to the Captain's chair where Spock is waiting with his shirt rucked up ever so slightly, but Jim doesn't know where the hell that came from and he's banishing it immediately and forever. Or at least until Chekov's birthday.
Sometimes, the best method of gathering information is the most direct: "How many guys have you whipped?" he asks. "Or girls."
Uhura gets a sly look on her face but before she can answer, Spock intones, "Commander, that inquiry is inappropriate."
"But asking me to take my shirt off so she can beat me isn't?" Jim scoffs.
Spock tilts his head to the side like he does to concede that from an imperfect perspective your utterance bears slight resemblance to a valid point, but he's still right and you're wrong. "This request falls well within the parameters of duties which senior officers may be reasonably expected to perform."
"Listen," says Kirk, "I know it was probably the best birthday present you've ever gotten, but that handbook of regulations I gave you was a joke. Pike can't actually ask us to do the Congress of the Cow."
"I told you it from him," Uhura mutters.
"I did not disagree with your assessment," Spock replies. "I merely stated that there were multiple possibilities which-"
"I'm still not convinced this is gonna fly with regulations," Jim interrupts, because there's nothing more boring than being an innocent bystander to another couple's tired spat (Jim even has the scientific research to back it up: he's overheard way too many arguments between Bones and his ex-wife and Bones is a scientist. QED.) Also, he's not sure if he should be flattered that Spock and Uhura have spent time discussing him or offended that they even considered that someone else was responsible for that inspired gift. "Can you really see Captain Pike explaining this to the Admiralty?"
Uhura turns to look at him snap-quick, and that's a change from the way she usually turns to him: torso swiveling first, then a fluid motion of the neck with the head following. The eyes move last, and slowly, as if they're connected to Spock with strings of glue. Jim doesn't mind; it means he can leer at her for a few seconds longer without her noticing him, which is awesome, and he likes watching her watch Spock.
But Jim is immediately on edge because this time, she leads with her eyes. "Captain Pike approved this mission," she says.
Of course Jim knows that; Pike has to approve all missions, so why would that-Oh. "Does this have anything to do with-" Jim cuts himself off because either the answer is 'yes' and he'll be depressed, or the answer is 'no' and he'll look like a paranoid idiot.
Uhura's been taking lessons on mind-reading from her boyfriend or else she and Jim have a love-connection (either would be acceptable in Jim's opinion) because her smirk is scarily triumphant. It's also scarily familiar.
See, exactly two weeks ago Jim was chasing Uhura as she marched to the ready room to tattle on Jim for what was decidedly not sexual harassment and even if it was, Jim wouldn't dream of treating any other crewmember (except maybe Bones, if he's in a good mood) in a similar manner so Uhura should have been flattered. In fact, she probably was flattered, considering how chipper she was beneath the veneer of righteous indignation. Still, Jim was on thin ice after the Andorian debacle, so just before they hit the final corridor he grabbed her arm and said, I swear, Uhura, if Pike hears one more thing about my 'unprofessional demeanor' he's going to take his belt off.
That's when Uhura gave him The Smirk. Then she patted his hand and walked away, and Jim congratulated himself on dodging the bullet.
It was a boomerang bullet, apparently.
"This is a conspiracy to commit harm against a fellow officer!" Jim blurts out, because that is totally what it is and look, Uhura's not even trying to deny it. She's balls-out laughing and that's a low blow because she's extra pretty when she laughs.
Jim turns away from her and looks at Spock instead, who is comfortingly grave.
"Commander Kirk," he says, "that is a very serious accusation. If you are to lodge a request for a formal inquiry, I would suggest-"
"I bet Pike's in on it!" Jim hisses, and he'll make a face-to-face accusation just as soon as he gets back aboard, procedures be damned. The old coot'll probably just laugh, too, all crinkly and handsome and evil. Jim's life sucks.
Spock simply micro-tilts his head to the other side. "You may address your concerns directly to the Admiralty," he says.
"But that would get them in trouble," Jim says. He loves the guy, but sometimes Spock has really terrible ideas.
Uhura snorts in a lady-like manner and rests her forehead briefly on Spock's shoulder. "Oh my god, he's adorable," she mumbles.
Well hang on, it appears that the James T. Kirk No-Lose philosophy has triumphed once again. Jim grins charmingly at Uhura. "Don't worry, I'm not going to file a complaint," he assures her. "I'm definitely going to include all the steamy details on my erotic blog, though. I'll be sure to send you the link."
"I've read that blog!" Uhura says, and score, she's stepping closer to Jim, like a jaguar or an Isopian or that coiled toy that goes downstairs. You know, slinky. "The entries tagged 'bovine' were particularly enlightening," she adds.
"I think you and Bessie would really get along," Jim says, going to meet her halfway. "You want me to arrange an introduction?" She smells really nice. It's probably just the standard-issue shampoo but she looks great and that affects smell, ok, Jim did an experiment on it in elementary school. Or maybe it was that smell affects taste. Whatever. He'll test that out on Uhura, too.
Spock is still standing to the side, displaying his impressive talent for not getting in on the action (although, to be fair, he is dating Uhura so his action-getting skills should maybe not be called into question.) "Commander, you are once more being inappropriate."
"Spock, this whole conversation is inappropriate," Jim says dismissively. "Listen," he says, angling his shoulders at Uhura who, after a quick glance at Spock, angles hers to mirror him. "When you start whaling on me, do you want me to endure it in stoic silence or moan a little?"
Uhura's mouth opens just slightest bit, offering a faint glimmer of teeth and tongue in the dark.
Jim can feel victory tingling in the back of his throat, an echo of the adrenaline spark he feels in the moment before a really good orgasm. "Of course," he adds with a touch of casualness, "if you want to make me cry like a bitch, that'll have to be a private session."
Uhura snaps her mouth shut again but that just makes Jim grin wider. "You're thinking about it, aren't you," he says. "You're planning out all the little details."
Uhura holds up her hand, palm out. Jim's about to protest-they were in the zone, ok, and it's not right to play him hot and cold like that-but then she points with her finger and suddenly Spock grabs Jim by the arms and hauls him back.
"Woah," says Jim, pulling instinctively against the grip and nearly losing his balance when he moves Spock precisely not at all. Spock merely leans Jim back against his chest until he gets his feet planted again. "This is. Um," says Jim. He tries to shove back but Spock is as solid as a bulkhead. A lithe, overwarm bulkhead breathing in measured gusts against Jim's ear.
"Miss Uhura prefers to improvise," says Spock. "It is I who would determine the logistics."