Stars in Our Eyes (Cause We're Having a Good Time)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Uhura/Gaila
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nyota laughs, head thrown back, the pale green so unlike the skin Gaila's used to.
Notes: Title and cut text from Lady Gaga. Written for a prompt on the Uhura appreciation post on ontd_startrek . OP wanted Uhura and Gaila dressing up as each other. OP got shameless porn.
The light hits Nyota's skin just right, twisting around Gaila on the dance floor like some incandescent goddess. Gaila's feet are sore in her borrowed leather boots, snaking up to her thighs, and her scalp is itchy in the dark wig she's wearing, but she grins at Nyota, placing her hands (still green; the only body paint they could find the color of Nyota's skin was chocolate flavored; it didn't last long) over Nyota's hips and dragging her close.
Nyota laughs, head thrown back, the pale green so unlike the skin Gaila's used to. It's an excuse to touch, she thinks, brushing Nyota's collarbone, featherlight with her first two fingers (Nyota's taking Xenocultural Studies 302 this semester, which is how Gaila learned about Vulcan finger-kissing; she can't stop doing it now, not with the way Nyota's eyes flicker to hers, intoxicating, knowing exactly what she's doing).
When Nyota pulls her close again, hips rocking a perfect rhythm with Gaila's, her warm, brown eyes are dilated almost black. Gaila could lose herself in them if she wanted to.
ldquo;Bathroom,” Gaila hisses in Nyota’s ear. It’s a question-supposed to be a question. But it isn’t really. The desperation must seep into Gaila’s voice, because Nyota’s hips tilt into hers and she wedges a thigh between Gaila’s legs.
Gaila’s knows Nyota can feel how wet she is, can probably smell the pheromones, even though she’s female and technically shouldn’t be able to. Her inner thighs are slick, and when Nyota rocks back Gaila can see her skin glinting in the lights.
“Yes,” Nyota murmurs, close enough to Gaila that she can hear over the pounding music. She uses the Orion word, the one that specifically implies consent. Usually, Gaila tries to avoid her native language, but she has to admit there are some things it does better than any other language in the galaxy.
Like the way it slips off Nyota’s tongue, the tip just peeking through Nyota’s lips, and Gaila wants that tongue in her yesterday.
She grasps for Nyota’s wrist, hips gliding in an exaggerated swaying motion as she weaves through the crowd, and the friction is delicious.
The door slides open, and Nyota shoves Gaila against the door so she can engage the lock, keeping her pinned with a thigh that Gaila has to make a conscious effort not to grind down against. Nyota’s fingers are in her hair, tangling and scratching just slightly on her scalp in a way that has Gaila arching off the door, cunt sliding over Nyota’s thigh.
“Sit on the sink,” Nyota orders, and Gaila whines when she slides her leg away.
Gaila flies for the counter, spreading her legs in invitation. Nyota gives her that gorgeous smirk she has; if she doesn’t get that mouth on her soon, Gaila’s going to explode.
“Come,” Gaila snarls the Terran word, the one that can also mean to orgasm. It’s perfect, if the way Nyota visibly shudders is any indication.
And then Nyota’s kissing her, pressing into the mirror, cool against her skin. Nyota hums against Gaila’s lips, pulling away to sink to her knees. Gaila slides to the edge, hooking her leather-clad thighs over Nyota’s shoulders. Nyota glances up, face only partially visible over Gaila’s skirt, but her eyes are blown wide and heady, intoxicating.
ldquo;Take the wig off,” Nyota whispers, her breath on Gaila’s inner thigh teasing. Gaila doesn’t question, just frees her red curls from the black wig. Nyota smiles, her own wig matching Gaila’s hair exactly.
And then she’s licking a stripe up the inside of Gaila’s thigh, and Gaila’s head hits the mirror. Gaila’s hands go to her hair, not caring the way she’s pushing if it makes Nyota stop teasing. She can feel Nyota’s laughter, and then Nyota puts her hands on Gaila’s thighs and her tongue pushes in, slow and delicious.
“Oh, oh gods,” Gaila moans, pulling at Nyota’s hair, the wig sliding off in her fingers before she delves her hands into silky black. Nyota hums at that, sending shockwaves up Gaila’s spine from where Nyota’s sucking on her clit.
Gaila rocks into it, pulling Nyota closer, no matter how she tries not to. But she can feel Nyota’s laugh inside her, and that’s it, she’s coming, shuddering against the mirror. Nyota licks up her slit as if guiding her through it. Her lips find Gaila’s clit again, and she sucks, fingers of one hand tightening on Gaila’s thigh while two fingers of the other hand thrust gracelessly inside her, and she’s coming again before she has the strength to pull Nyota up for a drowning kiss.