(no subject)
Story Title: Caress
Fandom/Pairing: Star Trek XI, Spock/Uhura
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Uhura discovers that Spock harbors an intriguing sensitivity in his ears. For this prompt at st_xi_kink. I’m nervously de-anon-ing!
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Star Trek characters or universe.
Once, after a particularly rousing discussion on restricted phonemes in Klingon dialects, Uhura leaned into him, her fingertips brushing his brow, then his cheekbone, before lingering on the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. Her cool, brown wrist brushed against the shell of his ear and Spock tensed, his already rigid posture straightening even more as he attempted to disguise the shiver that ran through him.
He wondered if Uhura noticed, if she saw the green flush creeping up his neck, if she knew how his blood rushed just below the surface of his skin, his mind whiting out for a millisecond, pinpointed on the impossible pleasure of her touching him there. This was illogical, he knew. While she was an incredibly capable student and harbored impressive capabilities for observation, Uhura had not betrayed any awareness of his current state. Besides, humans did not know of the incredible sensitivity Vulcans felt in their delicate, pointed ears.
*******
Many months later, in the turbolift, shocked and stunned by the loss of his home, his planet, his mother, Spock pressed his mouth against Uhura's clothed shoulder and felt her arms encircle him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she repeated, and let her fingers card through his hair, temporarily mussing it from its usually pristine state. He grasped her arms and withdrew, attempting to school his features in some semblance of gratitude without losing his carefully crafted control.
Then, as she took a step back, letting her hands fall from his hair, the plush pad of a fingertip drew down the ridge of one ear. A shot of pure heat raced through his nerve endings, and he would have reeled if not for his palms still braced on her shoulders. It took all of Spock's control not to tighten his fingers, to clutch the fabric of her uniform within his fists, to crush her towards him. If she had not been currently looking down, at her boots on the white floor of the lift, she would have seen his eyelashes flutter, his jaw clench.
To seek comfort in Uhura was of sound reasoning. But this -- so soon after the death of so much that was close to him, in the wake of such destruction, was morally inappropriate, not to mention their current location completely illogical. He needed to perform admirably. He turned to the sickbay, to care for what was left of his people.
*******
The academy was too quiet, with almost an entire graduating class gone. Those who remained were by turns embarrassingly loud and thoughtless, or withdrawn and pale, attempting to continue their studies in classrooms that were too empty, in dormitories that were quiet and cold.
Uhura, dismayed by the empty half of her dormitory room, once filled with Gaila's laughter and gossip and ridiculous sexual conquests, elected to spend more time in Spock's private rooms. She was there now, sitting next to Spock on a low couch, cradling her cheek in her palm as she watched him read an article on his datapad. He would never admit it, but he found it impossible to absorb any information from this particular article while she sat so close to him. Her presence was altogether distracting.
He chose, instead, to set the datapad down on the table beside them, and turn his gaze to Uhura. She smiled softly at this, and laid her hand on top of his where it rested on the table. Her hand, although warm to most humans, felt cool against his Vulcan skin.
Spock initiated their kiss, which he rarely did. He was heartbreakingly tender, Uhura thought, his lips a slight, even pressure against hers, his breath breaking in gentle puffs when they parted. His hand was a soft weight upon her shoulder, barely drawing her closer.
While to others, these acts may have seemed disinterested, or at most, frustratingly chaste, Uhura read into them, understood the effort it took for Spock to be forward. She could feel in his kiss, in his breath against her lips, how much he wanted to please her. For this, for her ability to understand him, he was grateful.
She cradled his chin in her hands, pressing her thumb against the soft, hot skin where his neck met his jaw, and parted her lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Her hands were so soft against his skin, her mouth so sweet, and he closed his eyes, attempting to shut his mind against percentages, against computations, against reasoning. Then her fingers crept from his jaw to his cheekbones, and then slowly, deliberately, she drew a fingernail across the pointed ridge of one ear.
His reaction was immediate, unstoppable. His head snapped back, a green flush rising in his cheeks as he gasped for air, a broken moan falling from his lips, the fabric across Uhura's shoulders crumpled as his fingers tightened. He pressed her back against the couch, momentarily towering over her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across her body. Almost as quickly, he pulled back, his green blush turning from arousal to embarrassment.
"I apologize. I..." he paused, unable to find words to describe his regret, his shame at having lost control, his fear that he may have repulsed her, scared her. He was unprepared for Uhura's fingers upon his cheek again, and the look of mingled understanding and want upon her face made her even more beautiful.
"Spock," she whispered. "It's alright. With me, I mean." She appeared a little sheepish as she asked, "May I?"
Spock found himself without words, almost unable to nod, but he did, and then she leaned in, briefly kissing his neck, peppering the hot, green-tinged skin there with damp brushes of her lips, before parting her lips to bathe his skin with warm breath. She craned her neck, carefully grasping his earlobe between white, even teeth, and tugged.
“Uhura,” he gasped. "Nyota. Nyota," he repeated and then she was beneath him on the couch, her slender body trapped under his, and he found himself impossibly pressing his hips against hers as she gasped, letting loose his earlobe from her mouth's hold, her breath ghosting against the sensitive shell of his ear.
He buried his face in the hollow of her neck and kissed her there, along the slender length of her collarbone, before lifting his head to nip at the smooth brown skin of her neck. She was so soft and warm beneath him as he thrusted against her, his hands cupping as he ran them over her hips, the curves of her waist and legs.
She reached between them to unfasten his regulation slacks, one hand releasing him from their increasingly uncomfortable confines and stroking him from root to tip. He thrusted shallowly into her grip, eyes sliding shut at the feel of her hand against him, heat rippling down his spine. In turn, he slid a hand under her dress and swept his fingers across the wet warmth there, rubbing the pad of a fingertip against the swollen bud of her clitoris, causing her to gasp his name.
"Spock," she breathed, stroking him again. Her other hand came up to cradle the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. She raked her fingernails through his hair before turning her attention to one of his ears again, caressing it softly, sometimes letting the edge of a fingernail scrape across the sensitive tip.
Growling, Spock removed his hand from the apex of her thighs and circled her wrists, releasing her hold on his erection and his ear. Then, catching her gaze, he pushed into her. He tried to avoid calculations on angles and pressure and instead simply sank into her enveloping warmth, staring into her eyes until he could no longer, his eyes fluttering shut as he lowered his mouth to the juncture of her neck.
They rocked together in a rhythm that could not last long, Uhura lifting her hips to meet him as she mouthed his name, her breath coming in choked little gasps. He reached between their bodies to stroke her even as he moved within her. Before long, her muscles were tightening around him, her back arched into a bow and her thighs clamping on either side of Spock's narrow hips as she came. He continued to piston his hips as her orgasm shuddered through her, her hips still undulating weakly as her muscles relaxed.
She looked up at him, at the tension in his neck, and felt the muscles in his shoulders bunch under her hands. He gazed down upon her, his face open and naked, his eyes full of awe and lust and love.
"Spock," Uhura said, her hands coming up his neck and then jaw. "Let go," she whispered. She lightly stroked both of his ears, feeling their delicacy and their oddly silken texture, and Spock shuddered, thrust a few more times, and came, his mind traveling to a blindingly bright place where logic did not matter, might not even exist.
Several moments later, Spock rest his head against Uhura's shoulder, catching his breath and watching the slowing pulse of her heartbeat beneath her skin. She ran her fingers through his hair again, brushing a fingertip against his ear and chuckling when she felt him twitch against her, despite having just reached orgasm.
"Fascinating," she said, and fought back a rogue smile.
Spock could only huff an affronted breath against the skin of her neck before rolling them over so he would not crush her with his weight. Highly illogical, he thought, but most enjoyable.
Fandom/Pairing: Star Trek XI, Spock/Uhura
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Uhura discovers that Spock harbors an intriguing sensitivity in his ears. For this prompt at st_xi_kink. I’m nervously de-anon-ing!
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Star Trek characters or universe.
Once, after a particularly rousing discussion on restricted phonemes in Klingon dialects, Uhura leaned into him, her fingertips brushing his brow, then his cheekbone, before lingering on the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. Her cool, brown wrist brushed against the shell of his ear and Spock tensed, his already rigid posture straightening even more as he attempted to disguise the shiver that ran through him.
He wondered if Uhura noticed, if she saw the green flush creeping up his neck, if she knew how his blood rushed just below the surface of his skin, his mind whiting out for a millisecond, pinpointed on the impossible pleasure of her touching him there. This was illogical, he knew. While she was an incredibly capable student and harbored impressive capabilities for observation, Uhura had not betrayed any awareness of his current state. Besides, humans did not know of the incredible sensitivity Vulcans felt in their delicate, pointed ears.
*******
Many months later, in the turbolift, shocked and stunned by the loss of his home, his planet, his mother, Spock pressed his mouth against Uhura's clothed shoulder and felt her arms encircle him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she repeated, and let her fingers card through his hair, temporarily mussing it from its usually pristine state. He grasped her arms and withdrew, attempting to school his features in some semblance of gratitude without losing his carefully crafted control.
Then, as she took a step back, letting her hands fall from his hair, the plush pad of a fingertip drew down the ridge of one ear. A shot of pure heat raced through his nerve endings, and he would have reeled if not for his palms still braced on her shoulders. It took all of Spock's control not to tighten his fingers, to clutch the fabric of her uniform within his fists, to crush her towards him. If she had not been currently looking down, at her boots on the white floor of the lift, she would have seen his eyelashes flutter, his jaw clench.
To seek comfort in Uhura was of sound reasoning. But this -- so soon after the death of so much that was close to him, in the wake of such destruction, was morally inappropriate, not to mention their current location completely illogical. He needed to perform admirably. He turned to the sickbay, to care for what was left of his people.
*******
The academy was too quiet, with almost an entire graduating class gone. Those who remained were by turns embarrassingly loud and thoughtless, or withdrawn and pale, attempting to continue their studies in classrooms that were too empty, in dormitories that were quiet and cold.
Uhura, dismayed by the empty half of her dormitory room, once filled with Gaila's laughter and gossip and ridiculous sexual conquests, elected to spend more time in Spock's private rooms. She was there now, sitting next to Spock on a low couch, cradling her cheek in her palm as she watched him read an article on his datapad. He would never admit it, but he found it impossible to absorb any information from this particular article while she sat so close to him. Her presence was altogether distracting.
He chose, instead, to set the datapad down on the table beside them, and turn his gaze to Uhura. She smiled softly at this, and laid her hand on top of his where it rested on the table. Her hand, although warm to most humans, felt cool against his Vulcan skin.
Spock initiated their kiss, which he rarely did. He was heartbreakingly tender, Uhura thought, his lips a slight, even pressure against hers, his breath breaking in gentle puffs when they parted. His hand was a soft weight upon her shoulder, barely drawing her closer.
While to others, these acts may have seemed disinterested, or at most, frustratingly chaste, Uhura read into them, understood the effort it took for Spock to be forward. She could feel in his kiss, in his breath against her lips, how much he wanted to please her. For this, for her ability to understand him, he was grateful.
She cradled his chin in her hands, pressing her thumb against the soft, hot skin where his neck met his jaw, and parted her lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Her hands were so soft against his skin, her mouth so sweet, and he closed his eyes, attempting to shut his mind against percentages, against computations, against reasoning. Then her fingers crept from his jaw to his cheekbones, and then slowly, deliberately, she drew a fingernail across the pointed ridge of one ear.
His reaction was immediate, unstoppable. His head snapped back, a green flush rising in his cheeks as he gasped for air, a broken moan falling from his lips, the fabric across Uhura's shoulders crumpled as his fingers tightened. He pressed her back against the couch, momentarily towering over her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across her body. Almost as quickly, he pulled back, his green blush turning from arousal to embarrassment.
"I apologize. I..." he paused, unable to find words to describe his regret, his shame at having lost control, his fear that he may have repulsed her, scared her. He was unprepared for Uhura's fingers upon his cheek again, and the look of mingled understanding and want upon her face made her even more beautiful.
"Spock," she whispered. "It's alright. With me, I mean." She appeared a little sheepish as she asked, "May I?"
Spock found himself without words, almost unable to nod, but he did, and then she leaned in, briefly kissing his neck, peppering the hot, green-tinged skin there with damp brushes of her lips, before parting her lips to bathe his skin with warm breath. She craned her neck, carefully grasping his earlobe between white, even teeth, and tugged.
“Uhura,” he gasped. "Nyota. Nyota," he repeated and then she was beneath him on the couch, her slender body trapped under his, and he found himself impossibly pressing his hips against hers as she gasped, letting loose his earlobe from her mouth's hold, her breath ghosting against the sensitive shell of his ear.
He buried his face in the hollow of her neck and kissed her there, along the slender length of her collarbone, before lifting his head to nip at the smooth brown skin of her neck. She was so soft and warm beneath him as he thrusted against her, his hands cupping as he ran them over her hips, the curves of her waist and legs.
She reached between them to unfasten his regulation slacks, one hand releasing him from their increasingly uncomfortable confines and stroking him from root to tip. He thrusted shallowly into her grip, eyes sliding shut at the feel of her hand against him, heat rippling down his spine. In turn, he slid a hand under her dress and swept his fingers across the wet warmth there, rubbing the pad of a fingertip against the swollen bud of her clitoris, causing her to gasp his name.
"Spock," she breathed, stroking him again. Her other hand came up to cradle the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. She raked her fingernails through his hair before turning her attention to one of his ears again, caressing it softly, sometimes letting the edge of a fingernail scrape across the sensitive tip.
Growling, Spock removed his hand from the apex of her thighs and circled her wrists, releasing her hold on his erection and his ear. Then, catching her gaze, he pushed into her. He tried to avoid calculations on angles and pressure and instead simply sank into her enveloping warmth, staring into her eyes until he could no longer, his eyes fluttering shut as he lowered his mouth to the juncture of her neck.
They rocked together in a rhythm that could not last long, Uhura lifting her hips to meet him as she mouthed his name, her breath coming in choked little gasps. He reached between their bodies to stroke her even as he moved within her. Before long, her muscles were tightening around him, her back arched into a bow and her thighs clamping on either side of Spock's narrow hips as she came. He continued to piston his hips as her orgasm shuddered through her, her hips still undulating weakly as her muscles relaxed.
She looked up at him, at the tension in his neck, and felt the muscles in his shoulders bunch under her hands. He gazed down upon her, his face open and naked, his eyes full of awe and lust and love.
"Spock," Uhura said, her hands coming up his neck and then jaw. "Let go," she whispered. She lightly stroked both of his ears, feeling their delicacy and their oddly silken texture, and Spock shuddered, thrust a few more times, and came, his mind traveling to a blindingly bright place where logic did not matter, might not even exist.
Several moments later, Spock rest his head against Uhura's shoulder, catching his breath and watching the slowing pulse of her heartbeat beneath her skin. She ran her fingers through his hair again, brushing a fingertip against his ear and chuckling when she felt him twitch against her, despite having just reached orgasm.
"Fascinating," she said, and fought back a rogue smile.
Spock could only huff an affronted breath against the skin of her neck before rolling them over so he would not crush her with his weight. Highly illogical, he thought, but most enjoyable.