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Title: Order
Author: ebonbird
Characters: Commander Spock and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Federation Spaceship Enterprise, on its five year mission. Reboot (AOS) universe.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mature Themes
Wordcount: 850
Disclaimer: Star Trek not mine.
Summary: Sometimes, Spock's all about maintaining order. Sometimes, not.
A/N: Please forgive any and all of my mistakes. Pardon the padd. And the puns.
___________
Spock reached across the bed to grab his padd just as Nyota leaned forward to touch her hot lips to his. His lips were hotter still. The corner of Spock’s mouth curled downward and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He widened his thighs a fraction and they slid easily beneath Nyota’s slick bottom.
“That was wonderful, Spock,” she murmured between sharp, shallow breaths, eyeing his grip on the padd warily. He squeezed her bottom, several times, and said, “That statement is something of a redundancy as you have already made your 'wonder' abundantly clear.”
He squeezed her buttock again for emphasis, then slid his hand around to where they were still joined. She moaned softly. For all that his touch was light, it was direct.
Spock lifted his fingers away from her, and held them up, elegant and glistening. "Observe."
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re teasing me.”
Spock shrugged with one shoulder and reached to where she was still stretched around him, his touch delicate.
And then, he broke their gaze and turned on his padd one-handed, “Define ‘teasing’.”
She pushed at his chest, the hairs soft against her sensitized palms. The shove became a series of strokes. Spock made several notations on his padd. The fingers touching Nyota changed direction and pressure. Heat rushed from her contracting nipples, up her chest and ran tingling around the back of her neck. It seeped down her shoulders and her head fell back, her neck unable to support its weight.
“What…wh- are you doing?”
“Establishing a baseline.”
Nyota's eyes flew open which didn’t help her much since they were aimed at the ceiling. She reached for his hand, planning to pull it to her face, but his fingers eluded her, gliding and slipping where they were joined. He was rocking into her too, his hard thighs keeping her upright.
Though he was using his fingers, his sex, and his thighs to pull her— pleasurably— apart, she could hear the scrape of his stylus on the padd.
Between waves of exquisite lassitude she managed to ask, “And?”
“A baseline of your physical responses to certain variables regarding you sexual responses and thus, needs.” Spock's other arm stole around her shoulder. His voice neared her ear as they hugged. His chest rubbed against her breasts and between the scent, smell, and increased contact with him, he could have been speaking directly into her mind and she would have had difficulty understanding. “It occurs to me that a while a stable and nurturing relationship serves as a means of reducing stress and increasing well-being, a schedule could enhance your already considerable cognitive and physical functioning. Given that we are 36.8 days into our 5 year mission, it would be remiss for me not to establish a baseline for your needs, so that I may pace myself accordingly.”
“How do you mean?”
“Our schedules concur, but on occasion we will be asked to change. Our reliefs will cycle along with us through alpha, beta, and gamma shift. As you are chief communications officer, it is also my duty as first mate,” Spock's eyebrow flicked upward. She tweaked his nipple, recognizing the pun for what it was. His eyes crinkled. He smiled for her. His eyes searching hers. He continued, slightly less breathfully, “That I establish protocols for optimum efficiency and care. Wherever I am able. Not only to determine baseline efficiency for normal operations but for appropriate compensation during, and after, times of crises.”
“The other bridge officers don’t merit this treatment?”
Spock caressed her hair, lifting strands it away from her body and letting them flutter fall from his fingers. He covered her throat with his hands, his fingertips touched the lower part of her face. The heat of his hands made her skin throb. She told him so. That broke his concentration, and he shuddered within and around her but his hands remained gentle, but not his arms or the shoulders Nyota stroked and kneaded. Nyota maneuvered his hands enough to permit his lips access to her neck. He drew a line along her revealed skin with his tongue. The wet heat made Nyota’s head swim. Had Spock not been holding her up with his thighs nor keeping her erect with his hands on her neck, she would have slid off him and lost the thick heat that was slowly working inside her, varying in height with each thrust — had been inside her through the course of the conversation. Spock’s lips trailed to her ear. His voice was a crackle, a gust. She was wet from his breath and the heat of his mouth. Wet at the ear and wetter between the legs. She cried out, her vision whiting out at the edges, her crisis upon her. Her eyes nearly rolled into her skull. Her fingers caught under his arms, pulling at his hair with her sweaty fingers, digging into the steep incline of his lats, her pelvis helplessly rolling and thrusting against his, her sex rippling with contraction after contraction.
Moan after moan spilled out of her throat, loader and rougher than the last.
“They are not you.” She heard Spock say, as if from a great distance though his tongue and his teeth were in and on her ear. “With them I need only maintain order.”
And then, for a little while, Nyota was gone.
Author: ebonbird
Characters: Commander Spock and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Federation Spaceship Enterprise, on its five year mission. Reboot (AOS) universe.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mature Themes
Wordcount: 850
Disclaimer: Star Trek not mine.
Summary: Sometimes, Spock's all about maintaining order. Sometimes, not.
A/N: Please forgive any and all of my mistakes. Pardon the padd. And the puns.
___________
Spock reached across the bed to grab his padd just as Nyota leaned forward to touch her hot lips to his. His lips were hotter still. The corner of Spock’s mouth curled downward and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He widened his thighs a fraction and they slid easily beneath Nyota’s slick bottom.
“That was wonderful, Spock,” she murmured between sharp, shallow breaths, eyeing his grip on the padd warily. He squeezed her bottom, several times, and said, “That statement is something of a redundancy as you have already made your 'wonder' abundantly clear.”
He squeezed her buttock again for emphasis, then slid his hand around to where they were still joined. She moaned softly. For all that his touch was light, it was direct.
Spock lifted his fingers away from her, and held them up, elegant and glistening. "Observe."
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re teasing me.”
Spock shrugged with one shoulder and reached to where she was still stretched around him, his touch delicate.
And then, he broke their gaze and turned on his padd one-handed, “Define ‘teasing’.”
She pushed at his chest, the hairs soft against her sensitized palms. The shove became a series of strokes. Spock made several notations on his padd. The fingers touching Nyota changed direction and pressure. Heat rushed from her contracting nipples, up her chest and ran tingling around the back of her neck. It seeped down her shoulders and her head fell back, her neck unable to support its weight.
“What…wh- are you doing?”
“Establishing a baseline.”
Nyota's eyes flew open which didn’t help her much since they were aimed at the ceiling. She reached for his hand, planning to pull it to her face, but his fingers eluded her, gliding and slipping where they were joined. He was rocking into her too, his hard thighs keeping her upright.
Though he was using his fingers, his sex, and his thighs to pull her— pleasurably— apart, she could hear the scrape of his stylus on the padd.
Between waves of exquisite lassitude she managed to ask, “And?”
“A baseline of your physical responses to certain variables regarding you sexual responses and thus, needs.” Spock's other arm stole around her shoulder. His voice neared her ear as they hugged. His chest rubbed against her breasts and between the scent, smell, and increased contact with him, he could have been speaking directly into her mind and she would have had difficulty understanding. “It occurs to me that a while a stable and nurturing relationship serves as a means of reducing stress and increasing well-being, a schedule could enhance your already considerable cognitive and physical functioning. Given that we are 36.8 days into our 5 year mission, it would be remiss for me not to establish a baseline for your needs, so that I may pace myself accordingly.”
“How do you mean?”
“Our schedules concur, but on occasion we will be asked to change. Our reliefs will cycle along with us through alpha, beta, and gamma shift. As you are chief communications officer, it is also my duty as first mate,” Spock's eyebrow flicked upward. She tweaked his nipple, recognizing the pun for what it was. His eyes crinkled. He smiled for her. His eyes searching hers. He continued, slightly less breathfully, “That I establish protocols for optimum efficiency and care. Wherever I am able. Not only to determine baseline efficiency for normal operations but for appropriate compensation during, and after, times of crises.”
“The other bridge officers don’t merit this treatment?”
Spock caressed her hair, lifting strands it away from her body and letting them flutter fall from his fingers. He covered her throat with his hands, his fingertips touched the lower part of her face. The heat of his hands made her skin throb. She told him so. That broke his concentration, and he shuddered within and around her but his hands remained gentle, but not his arms or the shoulders Nyota stroked and kneaded. Nyota maneuvered his hands enough to permit his lips access to her neck. He drew a line along her revealed skin with his tongue. The wet heat made Nyota’s head swim. Had Spock not been holding her up with his thighs nor keeping her erect with his hands on her neck, she would have slid off him and lost the thick heat that was slowly working inside her, varying in height with each thrust — had been inside her through the course of the conversation. Spock’s lips trailed to her ear. His voice was a crackle, a gust. She was wet from his breath and the heat of his mouth. Wet at the ear and wetter between the legs. She cried out, her vision whiting out at the edges, her crisis upon her. Her eyes nearly rolled into her skull. Her fingers caught under his arms, pulling at his hair with her sweaty fingers, digging into the steep incline of his lats, her pelvis helplessly rolling and thrusting against his, her sex rippling with contraction after contraction.
Moan after moan spilled out of her throat, loader and rougher than the last.
“They are not you.” She heard Spock say, as if from a great distance though his tongue and his teeth were in and on her ear. “With them I need only maintain order.”
And then, for a little while, Nyota was gone.
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From:
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Multitasking geek/sexy Spock is hot. That's all. Oh, and write more please! :)
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Yes, it does.
Multitasking geek/sexy Spock is hot.
Thank you for telling me that.
Oh, and write more please! :)
Certainly. It will be my pleasure.
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You're welcome.
and i'll be adding it to my delicious list, um, for, you know, research purposes.
Go for it. What's your delicious' url?
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are you on delicious? cause i know you have some goodies stashed somewhere.......
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