Shattered Universe: The Paths We Take 6/?
Disclaimer: Startrek and all associated characters are not mine.
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura, Kirk/OFC, and more
Summary: In a harsher AU where Vulcan has reduced the Human population to millions, James Kirk attempts to become the hero he once was, and Uhura struggles with her attraction to Spock, a man who represents the enemy's interest. In such a place, what morals might they sacrifice to survive? What would they hold closest to their hearts?
Rating: NC-17
Warning: The subject of torture will addressed, and familiar characters will behave badly.
A/N: Real life intruded on my writing during the last two months, hence the delay.
Thanks to spocklikescats for beta assistance.
Chapter 6
Uhura walked across an elegantly decorated hallway, her feet sinking into plush wine-coloured carpeting. Muted light scattered looming shadows across the floor and pale walls. She belted her red silk robe and hastened her steps. She passed three rooms before reaching the one she wanted. It was a heavy oak door with a very modern lock. With deft fingers, she entered an override code; it slid open and she stepped into the office that lay beyond.
Unlike the hallway, the walls within the office were darker and the floors devoid of carpeting. Shelves with old books lined one wall, while paintings expressed in slashes of vibrant colour adorned another. At the centre of the room stood a large desk with a computer terminal, connected to a secured network. To the left lay tidy stacks of PADDs and paper.
Ignoring the terminal, Uhura removed her jade earrings and placed them on the desk. Next, she picked up a PADD, turned it on, and set the screen to display all files. She did the same for two more PADDs. When the first files opened up, she tapped each earring, revealing tiny data interfaces. She attached each earring to a PADD and set them to record all files. She took the third PADD in hand and inhaled. As she expelled the air, Uhura allowed her body to relax. She forced her mind to empty itself of all anxiety and then reached into the deep hungry well that was a part of her mind. She pictured it as a deep sucking vortex, a perversion of her natural gift. She spent most of her time pretending it did not exist. To dwell on it was to remember the weeks she had spent strapped to a bio-bed.
Mind and body settled; she fastened her eyes to the now-scrolling screen of the third PADD. Text flowed upward and her mind grasped and absorbed each bit of information. She did not analyse any of it; that she would do later. She continued in this manner until she was finished with all of the PADDs. She positioned them back into place, and then slipped on her earrings.
Back in the hallway, Uhura touched the bracelet at her right wrist, a nervous gesture, and glanced around. As she expected, the area was clear and quiet. With a sigh of relief, she headed in the direction of the kitchen. Once there she poured herself a glass of water and then made her way to the master bedroom.
Illuminated from above with soft lighting, the room boasted the same lush opulence as the halls and living room. Uhura walked to a window chair and sat. She placed her glass of water on a nearby table, then finally looked at the hard-to-ignore-king size bed. There, asleep on his stomach, among the rumpled bedding, was Administrator Spock. He was in a drug-enhanced sleep and should be out for another hour or so.
Uhura let her eyes roam over the barely covered naked body. Under the light, his hair shone black as the darkest night and his pale skin almost glowed with an inner vibrancy that was pure Spock. “Beautiful” was the word that came to her the first time she had seen him. That impression remained with her, although since that night she had added a great many other adjectives to describe her half-Vulcan lover.
She sipped her water and her eyes lingered on Spock’s pronounced spine and then trailed down to his firm half-covered backside. On her worst days, she chastised herself over the fact that she desired him. He should repulse her as he would any good little Human, but she wasn’t little and sometimes she doubted her goodness. A good person couldn’t do some of the things she had done. No, Uhura thought, a good person might just run in the other direction if they knew of all her deeds.
She stood, loosened the belt of her robe and slipped out of it. She placed it neatly on the chair and walked to the bed. With careful movements, she climbed back under the covers and arranged her nude body so that she lay a mere inch from him. As her body absorbed the heat of his, she thought about their dysfunctional relationship.
***
They had met for the first time at a gathering. A farce intended to smooth the transition from Earth Gov rule to Vulcan control. She had scored an invitation by virtue of Maxwell’s reputation as more than a simple bar prior to the occupation. While she would have preferred to be anywhere but in that ballroom mingling with traitorous Humans and haughty Vulcans, she had attended with Joseph Mendez as her date. It had been so easy to read the Vulcans’ body language and their whispered words.
Needing air, Uhura had fled from the room and onto the outside balcony. Stars and ships sparkled above in the night sky. A cool night breeze blew her shawl to the floor and before she could get to it, a dark figure bent forward and retrieved the diaphanous material. Until that moment, she’d believed herself to be alone.
When the obliging mystery male straightened to his full height, she saw his face and found herself immobile. Her whole universe had shrunk to him and the insane feeling he evoked. For the first time in her life, she understood what the poets sang about, when they talked of instant carnal lust. Her heart rate increased and polite words left her, as she stared into a face seen only in a holo. It had not prepared her for the force of presence the real man exuded. Most interesting was that he looked at her as if she were a ghost. His hushed words, “Are you real?” only confirmed her suspicion. And then he blinked and every trace of emotion vanished.
Choosing to ignore his odd question, Uhura pasted a smile on her lips. They exchanged a few words as he handed her the shawl. She wrapped it around her shoulders, said good night and left him on the balcony. In her haste, his verbal response was unclear; however, she remembered feeling his gaze heavy on her until she stepped out of the ballroom.
A week to the day after they had met, the first invitation to dinner arrived. Spock wanted her to meet with him at his personal residence. She ignored it. The second arrived in a similar manner. That too, she ignored. She then reported his interest to the very man who’d recruited her for this assignment, Admiral Richard Barnett. The Admiral sent immediate word with one of the freighter captains that he recommended she accept the next invitation. She knew enough to read between the lines of the short response. Barnett was not giving her a choice. He was ordering her to agree to meet with Spock. Uhura stared at the walls of her office for long minutes as outrage, revulsion and a strange anticipation warred for dominance within her mind and body. Had she not given enough to her government?
Dinner was not what Uhura had expected. Well, to be honest, she had not known what to expect, as she had donned the ugliest dress she could find in her closet. If he thought anything negative about her attire, Spock said nothing. Instead, he ushered her into his quarters. He was dressed casually in muted colours and for some unknown reason that simple fact created an extra knot of tension in the pit of her stomach.
“I am pleased that you have accepted my invitation.”
Holding his gaze, she replied, “How could I refuse, Administrator?”
He raised a brow and asked her to call him, Spock.
Spock served their meal, a combination of Terran and Vulcan dishes. Too anxious to enjoy the food, she hardly ate anything. Uhura was unsure as to whether he had noticed because he seemed more intent in asking a rapid series of questions. He wanted to know about her family history, her childhood, her one summer on Vulcan and her affinity with languages. He even asked about her apparent abandonment of Starfleet. Uhura answered as best as she could, certain that he already knew the answers to most of his questions. She surmised that he was testing her. She was not sure if she wanted to pass or fail and what either would mean.
Dinner ended and much to her relief, he did not suggest that she stay any longer than necessary, nor did he touch her in any manner. That night her dreams were all about him. His gorgeously formed lips had travelled across her overheated skin while his hands stroked sinfully between her spread legs. She woke to find her own fingers in the middle of doing what dream Spock had begun.
Their second dinner, also at his residence, was less one-sided. This time Uhura had felt comfortable enough to satisfy her curiosity about Spock’s childhood. One of the many topics they avoided was the death of her family and his parents. The unpleasantness was not something either cared to dwell on. As their meal ended, she found herself riveted by their discussion on how long-range subspace communication could be boosted to avoid some of the lag that currently occurred. This time when he had walked her to the door that led to the lift, Spock touched her arm. He used a slow deliberate caress to slide two burning fingers down to her hand, and then she found her back against the door and his lips against hers. The small rational part of her mind had screamed at the possessive way his fingers dug into her hips, the demanding nature of his kiss and the sudden weakness in her knees.
Hours later as she left him for her home, Uhura reflected that by becoming his lover, she’d gained a way to get information that could help her cause. It disturbed her a great deal that in Spock’s arms she had felt more alive than ever before. It also bothered her that just as she had used their relationship to get what she wanted, he too was using her and it wasn’t just for the sex.
***
Uhura felt Spock stir and she rolled onto her side to face him. He was waking ahead of schedule. She wondered if he was developing a resistance to the drug. She had been careful to limit the occasions on which she used it, and at those times, she gave just enough to put him out for two hours. Increasing the dosage would risk discovery of her deception and that was something she could not afford.
Spock turned his head in her direction and opened long-lashed dark eyes. He watched her with an unsettling intensity that reminded her of a scientist studying a lab specimen. Vaguely she remembered that under the robes of government dwelled a man of science. Uhura always felt trapped within those eyes of his, torn between wanting to hide from him and remaining within his gaze. After all this time, she still felt unnerved by him doing this. She considered it a reminder, like his spine, that although he was half-Human, his Vulcan heritage was most dominant.
“Hi,” she said.
Spock propped himself in a position mirroring hers. “Why is it that I always seem to lose myself in you, Nyota?”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
His long graceful fingers reached out and lazily caressed the side of her face before sliding into her locks. “Everything about you fascinates me.”
Her heart gave a little flip-flop at his admission. The fingers continued to play with her hair. He seemed to have a fetish for her hair, even commenting that he preferred it curly. For that very reason alone, Uhura always wore it straight. “Is that why I’m here, Spock?”
The fingers tightened in her hair and then pulled her forward until she could feel his warm breath against her skin. “Yes and no.”
Uhura frowned at Spock. He was in strange mood tonight. He had been quiet through much of their meal and when that was over, he’d unceremoniously stripped her naked and dumped her onto his bed. She did not understand his caveman attitude, because sad as it was, she was always needy for his touch. “That wasn’t a clear answer.”
“No, it was not,” he agreed and rolled onto his back. His grip, however, remained the same, forcing her to move with him.
“My hair,” she said, staring pointedly at his face.
Spock’s fingers slackened. “Next time we meet, I want you to wear it curled.”
“My hair, my decision on how I wear it.”
His eyes narrowed with a hint of annoyance. “Must you negate my every request?”
“Not every request, just the unreasonable ones.”
His gaze dropped to her lips with a challenging hunger and seconds later, she found herself on her back with Spock looming above her. His deliciously hard body pressed into hers and Uhura could feel how happy he was to have her beneath him. An answering spark zapped through her body in a heady rush and her nipples perked up in swift attention. She widened her legs to better accommodate him.
“Then let me make a very reasonable request of you,” he said and entwined his fingers with her own, placing them on her pillow. “You are to desist from any other sexual liaisons you might have.”
Uhura gazed up at Spock’s suddenly blank face and wondered if she had heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“I was clear in my words, Nyota. As long as we share our bodies, you will not see another.”
“We never promised exclusivity to each other,” she replied, then saw the way his eyes darkened from deep brown to cold black. Was he angry? And why was it making her hotter by the second?
“There has been talk of you having a sexual relationship with the trade captain who lodges at your residence.”
So that was it. Spock had heard of her performance for Mayweather’s sake. Uhura hooked her legs around his hips, and they both closed their eyes from the feel of his intimate flesh tightly pressed against her. “What if he refuses?” She asked, “For that matter, what if I refuse? What then?”
His right hand disengaged from hers, caressing across her arm, towards her shoulders and then to her neck. Spock’s fingers fanned out as he gently stroked the column. A touch of apprehension entered her mind when he did not answer. She wondered if she was pushing him too far. “What if I refuse, Spock?”
Spock’s fingers stilled, then tensed around her neck, and Uhura thought of the bracelet on her wrist with its hidden, drugged-tipped needle. However, she found her thoughts scattered as his mouth crashed down on hers in a vicious kiss. She felt his teeth at her lips, followed by a light sting and knew he’d broken flesh. His tongue licked along her bruised lips and her free hand somehow found its’ way into his hair. Adrenaline and wanton need flooded her body, compelling her to arch upwards. When his tongue entered her mouth, the taste of him and her own blood elicited a raw groan from deep within her throat.
The harshness of their kiss as their tongues duelled for supremacy called to the dark places of her soul. Spock’s heated passion always got underneath her skin, filling her with its special brand of addictiveness. Somewhere between his first touch and first searing possession, Uhura found herself craving the sensations only he inspired in her. But tonight she wanted something else. She wanted to taunt him and push him, for this weakness he created in her. Rubbing her drenched pussy against his erection, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged harshly.
Their kiss broke apart and the ragged sounds of their breathing floated about their still bodies. Uhura could see that Spock’s eyes were still black, but where there had been frigidity now was housed a smouldering fire. They bore into her gaze with an inquiring arrogance.
“My question, Spock,” she demanded with a voice that sounded much too breathy for her liking.
Those sensual fingers of his that were still at her neck increased their pressure just a fraction before he responded, “You forget who I am, Nyota. I can make his life infinitely unpleasant. The choice is yours.”
That nasty threat did not surprise Uhura. She knew what he was capable of doing, given the right motivation. There was a reason why he was both feared and respected. “You don’t own me.”
Spock’s head dipped, but his eyes remained locked on hers as his perfectly curved lips brushed her sore ones. “I may not own your mind,” he said, then tenderly kissed her chin and jaw-line. “I may not own your soul,” he continued, swiping a wet tongue against the shell of her ear that caused a hitch in her breathing...
...“I may not own your heart.” Spock let go of her right hand and trailed his free fingers down the side of her body. His lips brushed against the tip of her nose and then the side of her mouth.
The light touches was both soothing and maddening. Uhura’s grip on his hair relaxed and her hand dropped to his sweat-slicked shoulders. She smiled slightly and caressed her way to his back. The fact that he sweated and the tension radiating from his muscles told her he was not as contained as his words and face would have her believe.
“However,” he whispered in a wickedly seductive tone that twisted the already tight coil of desire burning her insides, “I. Own. Your. Body.” With those last ardent words beating at her ear, he reached between them, positioned his cock at her entrance, and thrust his hips forward.
“Oh God,” fell from Uhura’s parted lips at the exquisite feel of Spock’s thick length filling her, feeding her hunger for him. When she was first-year cadet, a friend had commented that Vulcans were probably dead below the waist. As her eyes drifted shut, she wished she could tell that friend how wrong he had been. Not only was Spock not dead down below, he was impressively endowed. Vaguely she speculated on whether all Vulcan males were this gifted.
He pulled out, slowly, so achingly slow that a flare of frantic want threatened her sanity. Uhura opened heavy-lidded eyes and dug her nails deeply into his skin. “My body does not belong to you,” she growled.
A faint scowl flickered across Spock’s face followed by an amused determination. He plunged back into her just the way she wanted. “I beg to differ, Nyota.” His hand abandoned her neck, moving to her breasts. He manipulated the tight buds until a dull pain joined the pleasure already there. “Just look at the way you move for me. Your body knows the truth and yet you insist on fighting.”
“You...are...the...” was all the response Uhura could manage because Spock began a ruthless rhythm in and out of her body. She responded in kind, eagerly lifting her hips and meeting him halfway.
In between fierce kisses and passionate moans, Spock’s fingers crept to the side of her face in a manner that she had seen before. Even as she rode the blissful high that was Spock, Uhura had the presence of mind to turn her face, as she mouthed the word “no”. His eyes widened, his hand slipped into her hair and his forehead touched hers. The angle of his hips shifted slightly, and Uhura found herself hurtling towards a turbulent peak of ecstasy. When she got there, he followed her and she could hear the echoes of “t’nash-vey” across her mind. At that very moment, she was more than happy to be his, and in a small way, that made her hate him.
***
He did not believe coincidences. Events did not interconnect at random. No, all things happened for a purpose, even the most banal. Purpose, he believed, was the single most driving force of all life within the universe. Sometimes it lay buried within the subconscious; at other times, it hid among the many combinations of each creature’s DNA. Even that intangible thing known as destiny fell well within its icy grip. He reasoned that if purpose did not exist then all things were meaningless.
Spock rested his head against his pillow. Nyota’s lay half on top of him, her face nestled atop his chest. His sensitive fingers slid along her shoulders until he encountered a jagged scar. The shape of it told him exactly what created the damage. A Vulcan honour dagger used more for ceremonial purposes than actual combat. He often wondered about the fate of the one who inflicted the wound. It was already there the first time his eyes and hands caressed her soft bare skin, most likely inflicted in one of the many battles on Deneva.
The Humans had fought long and hard, in a frantic attempt to maintain control of the planet and surrounding system. Early estimates by Vulcan’s senior fleet commanders and the High Command had the UE falling to Vulcan in weeks. In typical Human fashion, they had surprised everyone. They lasted months, drawing out each battle with their cunning and near suicidal acts of sacrifice. For their audacity at repelling Vulcan forces for so long, the High Command and the High Council decided that the Humans on Deneva must survive. Bringing them under their subjugation was a more fitting revenge than complete destruction.
Spock traced the puckered flesh, moving lower along the velvety smoothness of Nyota’s back. He found the touch of her cool skin satisfying to his senses. He relaxed his mental shields and felt the barest touch of awareness, seeping from her and into his consciousness. She sighed softly as he grazed another scar at the edge of her hip, but did not wake from her pleasant dream. She rarely slept when they were together. Sometimes she dozed either half on top his body or facing him. She never turned her back to him while they were in bed unless their copulation required her to be in such a position. Given her other life, he did not fault her.
Spock’s fingers glided across the high curve of her derrière and he could not suppress the small wry smile that touched his lips when her thighs parted and another soft sigh slipped pass her lips. She may fight his hold over her, but her body always succumbed. He recognised that a part of her was ashamed of her intense desire to connect with him. He had meditated on that realisation and concluded that he could not grudge her for it, not with their circumstances. He also had the benefit of seeing and wanting her before they had ever met.
Purpose, its seemingly random interconnecting events, had led him to make hard and dangerous decisions, and along the way, there had been death and destruction. He did not regret any of his prior actions, nor the knowledge that he would cause more, because he considered them a balance to what he hoped to achieve. The problem for Spock was that even with all the tantalising clues, starting with his vision, he still could not discern the pattern of Nyota Uhura. Yet, he knew instinctively that she was an important key to gaining his ultimate goal. It was the same instinct that made him want desperately to meld with her earlier tonight, and quickened his heart at the mere thought of sinking into the depths of her cool slick flesh.
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t'nash-vey: my/mine
Let me know what you think of this version of Spock/Uhura and the chapter in general.
Next chapter: The current home of the UE (the moon Abiri) and a not so pleasant encounter with Admiral Richard Barnett.
Chapter 7