Alliance ;; Kirk/Uhura NC17
Title: Alliance
Rating: NC17
Universe: Star Trek (XI 2009 universe), references to (but no spoilers for) TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror"
Pairings: Kirk/Uhura, Spock/Uhura mentioned, Unrequited!Kirk/Spock implied
Words: 4,634
Warnings: Mirrorverse, and all that implies. (Dub-con, powerplay, knifeplay, torture, restraints, verbal and physical threats, mentions of murder and violence, evil Spock with a beard blah-di-blah), basically PWP
Notes: First time writing PWP and I decide to write THIS. *blushes* *hides forever*
Summary: Kirk resists the urge to glance at Uhura, to imagine the small, helpless sounds she'll make when he pins her against the wall, the visceral fear in her eyes when he draws the knife lazily against her throat, the feeling of her soft body struggling then stilling beneath him, the small whimper escaping her lips as he whispers: "Beg."
In Captain Kirk's opinion, there are three types of people with the capacity to rise quickly up the ranks of Starfleet.
Type One: a person with connections within the Empire.
Type Two: a person of supreme intelligence and utter ruthlessness.
Type Three: a person with the talent (or sheer goddamn luck) to stay the hell out of the way of types one and two.
He categorizes the senior crew of the Enterprise thus:
Himself: Type Two
Spock: Type Two with a dash of One
Sulu: Type One
Chekov: Type Two
Doctor McCoy: Type Three
Scott: Type Three with a dash of Two
Lieutenant Nyota Uhura: Type Three
He is correct. For the most part.
Here's what the record shows:
Lieutenant Uhura is nothing if not efficient. Her dedication and unquestionable competence has seen her soar through the ranks. She can decrypt at the heighest level, she can converse fluently in forty-three different dialects, and with some proficiency in an innumerable number of others. She can juggle dozens of transmissions, monitor hundreds of frequencies, all without misplacing a strand of her impeccably styled hair. She has her finger on the beating pulse of this ship, as chief communications officer she has the power to monitor every camera, every official surveillance bug, and a few unofficial ones of her own. It's her business to know everyone's secrets, and Nyota Uhura knows her business extremely well.
Despite this, the Lieutenant shows no discernible penchant for violence or punishment, no evidence of ruthless or callousness. She dishes out punishment only when duty absolutely demands it and she receives punishment without recrimination.
This is the weakness of a Type Three.
He will regret losing such a competent and unambitious officer, but her recent... contact with his First Officer is unacceptable. Though she and Mr Spock have never shown any obvious ambition for power, alliances of any kind between officers can't be permitted to continue for obvious reasons. Such fraternization is automatically categorised as conspiracy to mutiny, a crime punishable by death. It's practically standard procedure to execute first and fabricate the incriminating evidence later.
However Captain Kirk is a man who understands the value of something when it's put in front of him, and his First Officer is unquestionably an invaluable commodity. The best first officer in the 'fleet, Spock is a man he needs on his side - to fend off threats from his enemies and subordinates alike. Kirk is in need of him now more than ever, since after Marlena's transfer and the unfortunate loss of the Tantalus Field.
Jim shifts imperceptibly in his command chair, tapping his stylus against his PADD. He's pretending to contemplate their new orders, but in fact he's surrupticiously eyeing his crewmen. Security Chief Sulu leans unconsciously towards his navigator. A silver knife strapped to his thigh catches the dim light. Kirk's eyes narrow minutely. From this position the vunerable backs of his officer's necks are fully exposed to him. He'd like to keep it that way.
No, an alliance of senior officers must not be tolerated, it would be a foolish risk to take - but he couldn't neutralize the threat in the obvious manner. His First Officer is a chess piece entirely too valuable to sacrifice in this game. The best method would be to show the Vulcan how illogical this arrangement could be; to teach Mr Spock a lesson. He does, after all, possess one of the most extraordinary learning curves in the history of the Academy.
Kirk has no fear of revenge, once Spock's petty little crush for the dead girl abates he'll inevitably recourse to his infallible logic. The Vulcan will undoubtedly recognise the idiotic move making an enemy of his Captain would be, and Kirk will have his First Officer and key ally to himself once more.
The solution is as clear as day.
A Type Three would not be a difficult kill, but he will have to do it personally, for the sake of discretion. Kirk bites his lip. To watch the life fade out of the eyes of a colleague, to feel flesh struggling beneath your fingertips, to hear that last gasp for breath in your ear and know you hold the power of life or death at your fingertips. He shifts a little in his chair, it's something he hasn't done since his Academy days. The thought makes him pause. Was that true?
It was. Since he'd discovered the Tantalus Field there had been no need to dirty his hands personally. The thousands, millions of people he had slaughtered over the years had all died through a vidscreen, a few choice words barked at an ensign, a nod, a wave of his fingers. The task itself had always been another's. A flick of a switch and billions of anonymous faces wink out of existence, as he sits, safely seperated from the consequence by the enveloping silence of space.
The last person he had killed himself, with his bare hands wrapped around their throat, had been Finnegan. Kirk had drained the life out of him slowly, riveted as the insolent bastard struggled for breath, that perpetually smug smile finally wiped from his infuriating face.
Kirk resists the urge to glance at Uhura, to imagine the small, helpless sounds she'll make when he pins her against the wall, the visceral fear in her eyes when he draws the knife lazily against her throat, the feeling of her soft body struggling then stilling beneath him, the small whimper escaping her lips as he whispers: "Beg."
He glances at the chronometer on the arm of the command chair. Twenty minutes until the end of Alpha shift. He can feel himself already half-hard in anticipation. God, it's been too long since he's done this.
He licks his lips.
--
In some ways, the record is right. Nyota Uhura is a damn competent officer, in fact she's a fucking brilliant one. In possibly every other respect though, the record is wrong. She isn't a weak little victim, bowing to punishment every time and never doling it out, cowering at the prospect of violence, rising to the top of her specialty purely by staying out of other people's way.
She isn't weak, just very, very good at making it look that way.
Every enemy disposed of is done so as to ensure she could never be implicated. As a communications expert she can expertly doctor a report so as to make any action appear commendable or reprehensible to the Empire, with only a minute change of emphasis. In charge of universal translators, she can deactivate any one at a critical moment, or even manipulate what a person hears, with deadly consequences for whichever party gets in her way. She is a genius of misdirection. There's power in her looks too, and she plays up to the stereotypes. She is often underestimated, and she likes it that way. There's a reason she and her roommate from the Academy, Christine Chapel, are the most senior female officers aboard this ship, they knew how to use their gender to their advantage without resorting to fucking their way to the top.
She knows what men think about her when they look at her, knows what they fantasize about, and she is not above exploiting it. Sulu had tried crude seduction, even threats in the past, and the Captain would often look at her on the bridge in a way that sent shivers of fear down her spine, but she made sure never to be alone with either of them, as far as she was able. And if it were to prove unavoidable, she knows well enough how to defend herself.
But the Captain hasn't looked at her once in the past two hours and thirty-two minutes. She sees this for what it is: dangerous. He addresses her in precisely the cool way he'd spoken to Gary the day the former helmsman had mysteriously disappeared, and his ensign Janice Rand, soon before her body was found floating uselessly through space, "accidentally" jettisoned through a faulty airlock.
She suppresses a shiver. She isn't weak like they were.
If he is acting the same way as he had then, it's only logical (Spock would like that, look she's even beginning to think like him) to assume he's planning on doing the same thing to her. But why?
She almost froze against the console -- The turbolift. Uhura cursed her stupidity, of course he had a third party monitoring the security feed. Kirk didn't trust anyone... That means he must've seen her... conversation with Mr Spock. She doesn't regret it, after all a girl has needs, but maybe the choice of location for her little show had been... unwise. Kirk would think she was trying to form an alliance. He would think she wanted to be Spock's First Officer, not just his fuck buddy. The Captain had made up his mind, and she knows once he gets an idea in his head, he would never be persuaded to believe otherwise. There remains only one way to save herself.
When he comes for her she will be ready.
--
The Captain's override code isn't an option, of course, that would ensure the blame landed squarely on his head. Using the door at all, really, was far too obvious. Uhura is too smart not to leave it heavily encrypted.
Instead, he walks the prattling blonde in science blues (whose name he can't remember for the life of him) to her door, turning on his best seductive smile as she lets him in.
"So I said 'no I totally don't want those they're just not sharp enough,' but she was really pushy about it, y'know? Of course, I wasn't about to..."
He interrupts with an impatient growl, "Neither of us are really here to talk, are we, Ensign?"
That shuts her up, and she turns slowly to face him, hips swaying in a practised movement, "No sir." She grins, twirling a blonde curl around her finger.
Kirk's hands pull her in by the waist, pressing his body against hers. He forces his tongue into her mouth, and she rises to respond in kind. She moans as he grinds forcefully against her hip.
Her body goes promptly slack in his arms.
Kirk yanks the hypo out of her neck and drops her on to her bed. He removes her clothing swiftly, almost clinically, her body is one he'd used many times before, and the banal familiarity of its contours honestly bores him.
He spreads her clothes across the room, a small flicker of amusement as he drapes her underwear across the bedstead. It'll be the first thing she'd see in the morning, after she gets over the debilitating headache, of course. She'll assume the worst, and he'll have the perfect alibi. Everyone had seen them leaving the mess, and a Captain so indiscreetly dirtying himself with a mere Ensign is an alibi just embarrassing enough to seem vaguely plausible.
Kirk steps through into the bathroom the unfortunate Ensign shares with his Communications Officer. Disabling the privacy settings which automatically lock him from the Lieutenant is mere childsplay, and he's in her quarters in a matter of seconds. As expected, she's oblivious, asleep in bed, her back exposed. Just the way he likes it.
He waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He can see her shifting in her sleep, silky black hair draping her pillow, a fading curved scar on her bare shoulder and a long naked leg draped over cotton white sheets. It's a delicious contrast. Kirk can't resist a tight squeeze of the bulge in his pants before reaching for his knife. He swallows, his thoughts heady with lust and anticipation. His footsteps are silent as he makes his way slowly towards the bed, eyes greedily drinking in the sight before him, all that exposed flesh he knows will soon be under his hands...
So it comes as a total surprise when he finds the world suddenly spinning beneath his feet, his arms stretching above him, white everywhere, the burn of cold metal at his side, grunting and straining and utter confusion.
Click.
He freezes suddenly. He knows that sound all too well, that cold, hard feeling against his wrists. Something round and metal pushes against his jugular and he knows that feeling too.
"Look at me. Don't. Move."
The second instruction is superfluous. He knows the minute that he sees her that he can't. He knows in that second he has underestimated her, the ruthlessness he sees in her eyes is far more tangible than words on a piece of paper, and he trusts his instincts infinitely more than a computer.
Kirk realises, with chagrin, that his knife is gone, she's handcuffed him to the bed, and is holding an Agonizer to his throat. Uhura has him completely at her mercy. She'd been waiting for him, she'd known he was going to come, had deliberately presented him with a most enticing sight to make him careless...
Speaking of enticing sights, he realises with a sudden rush of clarity, that the sheet had been discarded. Kirk is powerless and Uhura has him pinned down, completely naked.
His cock becomes immediately hard.
Uhura laughs suddenly. Eyes sharp, digging the Agonizer deeper into his throat, she leans over to lick the shell of his ear. His breath hitches as she bites down on the sensitive flesh. He resists the urge to buck up against her. Kirk can't show that kind of weakness.
She leans down to whisper against his ear.
"This isn't quite how you imagined it would go, is it, Captain?" He clenches his cuffed fists, refusing to respond. She sharply grinds herself down against him again. "Thought this would be easy didn't you, that I would beg you for my life, for your cock, 'Oh Captain, oh Captain, I'll do anything, please don't hurt me.'"
Her tone is high and sarcastic, but the words are close enough to his fantasies to make his cock throb against her pressing weight. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries for control. She laughs at him again and presses the Agonizer. Shock as his nerves are shot with a jolt of electricity. It only makes him harder.
"Tut, tut, what did I say? Keep your eyes open, on me." Kirk complies, gritting his teeth. Uhura smirks knowingly at him, a manicured hand raking slowly down his clothed body. His wrists twitch in his cuffs, he glares at her defiantly, oh if he ever gets these off...
The room is eerily silent for a few seconds as they stare at each other, each refusing to break eye contact, both battling to be victor.
The hand trailing down his body stops, there's the sound of a zip being drawn inexorably down, the warm pressure of a hand around his exposed cock, small gasps as he struggles to control his breathing.
Her eyes dare him to look away but he's defiant, even as he feels her dragging her hand slowly up his shaft, thumbing a drop of precum from the head. Kirk fights the instinct to bury himself against her neck and pant as her hand picks up the pace against his cock. She sucks two fingers from the other into her mouth, moaning provocatively against them as she rubs her breasts in small circular motions against his chest.
The pressure builds inside of him but he refuses to give in, to show any sign of weakness, even at the end.
That's when the pressure against him stops and he almost groans in frustration, that gorgeous heat lost as she lifts away, his cock left cold and pulsing.
That's when Uhura turns to smirk at him, and promptly straddles his waist, eyes bright with vindictive pleasure she removes the two fingers from her mouth with a small 'pop'.
That's when Kirk realises what she's planning to do. He almost comes on the spot.
She lowers herself on his cock, moaning unashamedly at the sensation of being filled. Her eyes are still trained on his. She doesn't bother taking it slow, slamming herself up and down on top of him, using her unlubricated hand to massage her clit.
Kirk can't help but thrust up into her, matching her brutal rhythm, watching as she takes her pleasure from him. He struggles futilely against his cuffs. He knows there's something in his training about what to do in this kind of situation but for the life of him he can't think...
A burst of pain in his cheek and a harsh growl. "Pay. Attention." Nyota slaps him again as she bears down on his cock with harsh, circular motions. He moans as she shoves her fingers into his mouth once more, drawing them in and out in time with his thrusts, leaning forward to rake her teeth over his ear.
She's increasing the pace now, her movements erratic, the sound of her moaning louder and louder in his ear. He can see the expanse of her exposed neck in front of him, as she buries her face in his shoulder. She fucks herself closer to orgasm, shamelessly taking her pleasure. He can see her fingers slipping, loosening her hold on the Agonizer with every thrust.
That's when he strikes. Slipping his hands from the cuffs, wrists raw from rubbing, Kirk knocks her weapon to the floor, grabs her by the waist and spins her on her back. Uhura eyes widen as she struggles against him.
He thrusts her wrists against the headboard, his full body weight pinning her to the bed, cock still stiff inside her. Uhura quashes the sudden spike of fear as she realises she's trapped, naked beneath Kirk, who's still almost fully clothed. She stills against him, recognising futility, but her eyes remain defiant.
Kirk holds her gaze, triumphantly running his thumbs along her captured wrists. She glares, pushing her hips up and drawing a gasp from his lips, she spits. "Fucking get ON with it, Kirk."
Without warning, he pulls himself out of her, smirking as Uhura involuntarily lets out a small sound of protest at being emptied. Kirk can sense that she's still close, this powerplay between them turning her on as much as it does him. He stops moving. She can still feel his head hovering at her entrance and her mouth moves in a silent moan of frustration. Kirk's smirk widens as if guessing her thoughts, but Uhura refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response, steadily holding his gaze.
Gradually he pushes back in - the agonizingly slow pace in total contrast with their previous frantic fucking. Uhura arches beneath him, panting as he fills her inch by inch, trying to shove herself up onto his cock, but his weight against her proves too much and she gives up, slackening, letting him take her at his pace. She feels like she could weep in relief as he's finally fully seated inside of her.
Then he stops, and she wants to scream.
"Beg." Kirk says, and it almost makes her break eye contact. She struggles not to betray that heady mix of arousal and fear coursing through her. She doesn't answer and he shoves her wrists at a painful angle against the sideboard. "Beg me to fuck you, beg me until you come, hard, around my cock."
She looks directly at him, and spits in his face.
Kirk's expression doesn't change, but there's something dangerous in his eyes now, and Uhura has to suppress a shiver. She's seen that look before on the bridge, the man behind that look had committed genocide, destroyed planets, decimated civilizations. It's burning and burning and she is the focus of it now.
He releases her wrists.
In her shock, Uhura fails to do anything to prevent him grabbing them again, this time pinning one hand against her side, and dragging the other to his mouth. Kirk's eyes never leave hers as he wets her fingers with his tongue. That look has an almost paralyzing effect on her, and she can't seem to move, mesmerised as he licks her fingers thoroughly, the sensuality of it sending an unexpected wave of pleasure to her lower belly.
He pulls her fingers out, suddenly pushing Uhura onto her side and roughly shoving her fingers inside her asshole. The sharp pressure narrows Uhura's world down and she struggles to breathe as he pulls her saliva-coated fingers in and out of her. He takes her other hand and manipulates it to rub in slow circles against her clit.
Uhura buries a loud moan in her pillow. Her ass accommodates slowly to the uncomfortable pressure until the strange fullness starts to feel good. She presses herself down on her fingers, pounding herself hard against her clit now without the prompt of his hand. She lets out a loud moan, biting the sheets beneath her as he adds one of his own fingers against hers, maintaining the relentless rhythm in and out of her ass. She can feel the pressure building and she can't stop the breathy moans from escaping as she rubs her fingers frantically against her sore clit.
Kirk leans over to breathe in her ear, "this is how you pleasure yourself isn't it? Three fingers up your ass and two against your pussy. Who do you imagine is fucking you, huh?" She writhes against the sheets, shame rising at her wantonness, but she doesn't care. So close, she's so close now. "Is it Spock? You imagine him taking you up your ass against the science console, with everyone watching you, is that it? Everyone seeing what a whore you are for Vulcan cock." Uhura shivers in guilty pleasure at the image, rubbing harder against her clit, fighting against those small, desperate sounds in her throat. "Or do you think about me ordering you to suck my cock on the bridge? Giving orders as I'm fucking your mouth. Or maybe you want us both at the same time, Spock up your ass while I come down your throat." At that Uhura comes with a loud moan, still fucking herself against his fingers, shivering with pleasure.
Giving her no time to recover, he flips her onto her knees and shoves his cock into her, fucking her through the last tremblings of her orgasm. He rubs his hand against her hypersensitive clit, eeking out every last drop of painful pleasure. Her arms are too weak to hold herself up, she collapses onto her shoulders, panting into the pillow as he uses her already slick, wet hole, jerking himself in and out roughly, the grip of his hands bruising against her waist. The pressure inside her is too much again and she begs for her second orgasm, muffling the sound of her pleas against the pillow.
She comes with a cry, this orgasm ripping through her with harsher force than the first, Uhura tightens and loosens around his cock as Kirk grunts and shoves himself fully inside, spilling wet semen into her.
For a while, there's nothing but sweat and breath.
Then, head still swimming from her orgasm, she spots a glint of metal in the corner of her eye. Impossibly, Kirk's dropped knife hadn't landed on the floor after all, it had snagged in the sheets and is dangling on the very edge of the bed. She reaches for it with lightning quick hands, shoving the metal beneath the pillow before Kirk recovers enough to be sensible of what's happening.
She feels his cock soften inside her, wincing as Kirk pulls himself out of her spent hole. She can feel some of his come trickling down her leg as he kneels and rolls her over onto her back. She keeps her arms above her head, playing helpless, but her right hand lingers just beneath the pillow, within easy distance of the concealed knife.
Their eyes meet again and she freezes. Kirk is holding the Agonizer in his hand. He's looming over her with the authority of one who knows he has Uhura under his complete control.
"Knew you'd be a good fuck." He smirks, but his voice shakes a little and the bravado doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd be tempted to keep you tied up in my quarters so I could use you whenever I wanted," he drags the Agonizer across one of her nipples, contemplative, "but you belong to Mr. Spock, don't you, and he'd never allow it."
She fights the urge to bristle at the suggestion of 'belonging' to anyone. Patience, Nyota.
"You know," he says, "I'm almost sorry I have to do this." He flicks the Agonizer's setting up to fatal levels and holds it against her heart.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Uhura's voice is steady and confident.
Kirk smirks, "Oh?"
That's when he feels the metal digging into his sternum.
"You press that button, I press this," she drags the knife down and presses it a little harder into his side, "And I assure you, I know exactly which artery would be the most damaging to rupture. You'd die, maybe not instantly, but definitely before Doctor McCoy could get to you."
Kirk's eyes widen, and it's Uhura's turn to smirk up at him, "That's providing, of course, that he'd want to get to you. You never know. Maybe he's one of mine, too."
Kirk's paranoia flares. She can see him analyzing the Doctor's every action, every word of the last few weeks, trying to find any abnormality in his behaviour.
She runs the knife smoothly across his command gold shirt, pausing at his celiac artery, mindful of the Agonizer still pressed against her heart.
Kirk looks at her directly and she tries to project her resolution at him, her determination to carry through with her threat. He responds in kind. Neither are bluffing.
They both know they're going to die here, covered in sweat and come, bleeding out in each others arms.
The world seems to solidify around Uhura, time moves at its normal pace again, and the strange bubble of kirkanduhura, that moment of being wrapped up in their powerplay, has culminated so suddenly in this death grip. The whole situation seems suddenly and inexplicably unreal.
She's twenty-six, she'd just had the most intense sex of her life, and now she's going to die.
Kirk cocks his eyebrow at her. She realises they've frozen there, stock still, staring at each other, naked and vunerable but neither willing to admit it. The image is so absurd that she has to fight against a grin.
"Stalemate?" Uhura blurts out. She immediately wants to clamp a hand over her mouth, but Kirk just sighs in relief, "Oh fuck yeah."
Slowly, and with lingering suspicion in their eyes, they move their weapons away, drawing from each other.
They stare at each other for a few beats.
Kirk's lips twitch.
The ridiculousness of their situation hits Uhura once more and suddenly, impossibly, they're both laughing.
Uhura recovers first. "You knew there was no alliance with Spock."
Kirk shrugs, that slack grin widening. "Seemed like a good excuse to get into your pants."
"And his, too?" She laughs.
Kirk freezes, and Uhura wonders if she's gone to far.
"Maybe." He draws out the word.
She claps her hands together, "I KNEW it, all that stuff about the both of you fucking me on the bridge..."
Kirk fights back a blush, he definitely doesn't blush dammit he's a formidable Starfleet Captain...
Uhura claps a hand over her mouth. "Are you... blushing?"
"No." He snaps, perhaps a little too quickly.
"You're blushing oh my god, I need pictures of this." She reaches for her desk drawer.
He grabs her wrist roughly, glaring at her "No."
She continues giggling, "Sorry, can't take you seriously when your face is red like that."
"I'll kill you."
"No you won't, not when I can make your all your sick little fantasies come true."
There are a few beats of silence. Kirk's eyes are wide.
She sees him swallow slowly around his adam's apple, "What do you mean?"
Uhura smirks and twiddles with a loose strand of her hair. She looks him straight in the eye.
"How would you feel about a little three-way alliance, Captain?"
Type Two, oh definitely Type Two.
-
THE END
Rating: NC17
Universe: Star Trek (XI 2009 universe), references to (but no spoilers for) TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror"
Pairings: Kirk/Uhura, Spock/Uhura mentioned, Unrequited!Kirk/Spock implied
Words: 4,634
Warnings: Mirrorverse, and all that implies. (Dub-con, powerplay, knifeplay, torture, restraints, verbal and physical threats, mentions of murder and violence, evil Spock with a beard blah-di-blah), basically PWP
Notes: First time writing PWP and I decide to write THIS. *blushes* *hides forever*
Summary: Kirk resists the urge to glance at Uhura, to imagine the small, helpless sounds she'll make when he pins her against the wall, the visceral fear in her eyes when he draws the knife lazily against her throat, the feeling of her soft body struggling then stilling beneath him, the small whimper escaping her lips as he whispers: "Beg."
In Captain Kirk's opinion, there are three types of people with the capacity to rise quickly up the ranks of Starfleet.
Type One: a person with connections within the Empire.
Type Two: a person of supreme intelligence and utter ruthlessness.
Type Three: a person with the talent (or sheer goddamn luck) to stay the hell out of the way of types one and two.
He categorizes the senior crew of the Enterprise thus:
Himself: Type Two
Spock: Type Two with a dash of One
Sulu: Type One
Chekov: Type Two
Doctor McCoy: Type Three
Scott: Type Three with a dash of Two
Lieutenant Nyota Uhura: Type Three
He is correct. For the most part.
Here's what the record shows:
Lieutenant Uhura is nothing if not efficient. Her dedication and unquestionable competence has seen her soar through the ranks. She can decrypt at the heighest level, she can converse fluently in forty-three different dialects, and with some proficiency in an innumerable number of others. She can juggle dozens of transmissions, monitor hundreds of frequencies, all without misplacing a strand of her impeccably styled hair. She has her finger on the beating pulse of this ship, as chief communications officer she has the power to monitor every camera, every official surveillance bug, and a few unofficial ones of her own. It's her business to know everyone's secrets, and Nyota Uhura knows her business extremely well.
Despite this, the Lieutenant shows no discernible penchant for violence or punishment, no evidence of ruthless or callousness. She dishes out punishment only when duty absolutely demands it and she receives punishment without recrimination.
This is the weakness of a Type Three.
He will regret losing such a competent and unambitious officer, but her recent... contact with his First Officer is unacceptable. Though she and Mr Spock have never shown any obvious ambition for power, alliances of any kind between officers can't be permitted to continue for obvious reasons. Such fraternization is automatically categorised as conspiracy to mutiny, a crime punishable by death. It's practically standard procedure to execute first and fabricate the incriminating evidence later.
However Captain Kirk is a man who understands the value of something when it's put in front of him, and his First Officer is unquestionably an invaluable commodity. The best first officer in the 'fleet, Spock is a man he needs on his side - to fend off threats from his enemies and subordinates alike. Kirk is in need of him now more than ever, since after Marlena's transfer and the unfortunate loss of the Tantalus Field.
Jim shifts imperceptibly in his command chair, tapping his stylus against his PADD. He's pretending to contemplate their new orders, but in fact he's surrupticiously eyeing his crewmen. Security Chief Sulu leans unconsciously towards his navigator. A silver knife strapped to his thigh catches the dim light. Kirk's eyes narrow minutely. From this position the vunerable backs of his officer's necks are fully exposed to him. He'd like to keep it that way.
No, an alliance of senior officers must not be tolerated, it would be a foolish risk to take - but he couldn't neutralize the threat in the obvious manner. His First Officer is a chess piece entirely too valuable to sacrifice in this game. The best method would be to show the Vulcan how illogical this arrangement could be; to teach Mr Spock a lesson. He does, after all, possess one of the most extraordinary learning curves in the history of the Academy.
Kirk has no fear of revenge, once Spock's petty little crush for the dead girl abates he'll inevitably recourse to his infallible logic. The Vulcan will undoubtedly recognise the idiotic move making an enemy of his Captain would be, and Kirk will have his First Officer and key ally to himself once more.
The solution is as clear as day.
A Type Three would not be a difficult kill, but he will have to do it personally, for the sake of discretion. Kirk bites his lip. To watch the life fade out of the eyes of a colleague, to feel flesh struggling beneath your fingertips, to hear that last gasp for breath in your ear and know you hold the power of life or death at your fingertips. He shifts a little in his chair, it's something he hasn't done since his Academy days. The thought makes him pause. Was that true?
It was. Since he'd discovered the Tantalus Field there had been no need to dirty his hands personally. The thousands, millions of people he had slaughtered over the years had all died through a vidscreen, a few choice words barked at an ensign, a nod, a wave of his fingers. The task itself had always been another's. A flick of a switch and billions of anonymous faces wink out of existence, as he sits, safely seperated from the consequence by the enveloping silence of space.
The last person he had killed himself, with his bare hands wrapped around their throat, had been Finnegan. Kirk had drained the life out of him slowly, riveted as the insolent bastard struggled for breath, that perpetually smug smile finally wiped from his infuriating face.
Kirk resists the urge to glance at Uhura, to imagine the small, helpless sounds she'll make when he pins her against the wall, the visceral fear in her eyes when he draws the knife lazily against her throat, the feeling of her soft body struggling then stilling beneath him, the small whimper escaping her lips as he whispers: "Beg."
He glances at the chronometer on the arm of the command chair. Twenty minutes until the end of Alpha shift. He can feel himself already half-hard in anticipation. God, it's been too long since he's done this.
He licks his lips.
--
In some ways, the record is right. Nyota Uhura is a damn competent officer, in fact she's a fucking brilliant one. In possibly every other respect though, the record is wrong. She isn't a weak little victim, bowing to punishment every time and never doling it out, cowering at the prospect of violence, rising to the top of her specialty purely by staying out of other people's way.
She isn't weak, just very, very good at making it look that way.
Every enemy disposed of is done so as to ensure she could never be implicated. As a communications expert she can expertly doctor a report so as to make any action appear commendable or reprehensible to the Empire, with only a minute change of emphasis. In charge of universal translators, she can deactivate any one at a critical moment, or even manipulate what a person hears, with deadly consequences for whichever party gets in her way. She is a genius of misdirection. There's power in her looks too, and she plays up to the stereotypes. She is often underestimated, and she likes it that way. There's a reason she and her roommate from the Academy, Christine Chapel, are the most senior female officers aboard this ship, they knew how to use their gender to their advantage without resorting to fucking their way to the top.
She knows what men think about her when they look at her, knows what they fantasize about, and she is not above exploiting it. Sulu had tried crude seduction, even threats in the past, and the Captain would often look at her on the bridge in a way that sent shivers of fear down her spine, but she made sure never to be alone with either of them, as far as she was able. And if it were to prove unavoidable, she knows well enough how to defend herself.
But the Captain hasn't looked at her once in the past two hours and thirty-two minutes. She sees this for what it is: dangerous. He addresses her in precisely the cool way he'd spoken to Gary the day the former helmsman had mysteriously disappeared, and his ensign Janice Rand, soon before her body was found floating uselessly through space, "accidentally" jettisoned through a faulty airlock.
She suppresses a shiver. She isn't weak like they were.
If he is acting the same way as he had then, it's only logical (Spock would like that, look she's even beginning to think like him) to assume he's planning on doing the same thing to her. But why?
She almost froze against the console -- The turbolift. Uhura cursed her stupidity, of course he had a third party monitoring the security feed. Kirk didn't trust anyone... That means he must've seen her... conversation with Mr Spock. She doesn't regret it, after all a girl has needs, but maybe the choice of location for her little show had been... unwise. Kirk would think she was trying to form an alliance. He would think she wanted to be Spock's First Officer, not just his fuck buddy. The Captain had made up his mind, and she knows once he gets an idea in his head, he would never be persuaded to believe otherwise. There remains only one way to save herself.
When he comes for her she will be ready.
--
The Captain's override code isn't an option, of course, that would ensure the blame landed squarely on his head. Using the door at all, really, was far too obvious. Uhura is too smart not to leave it heavily encrypted.
Instead, he walks the prattling blonde in science blues (whose name he can't remember for the life of him) to her door, turning on his best seductive smile as she lets him in.
"So I said 'no I totally don't want those they're just not sharp enough,' but she was really pushy about it, y'know? Of course, I wasn't about to..."
He interrupts with an impatient growl, "Neither of us are really here to talk, are we, Ensign?"
That shuts her up, and she turns slowly to face him, hips swaying in a practised movement, "No sir." She grins, twirling a blonde curl around her finger.
Kirk's hands pull her in by the waist, pressing his body against hers. He forces his tongue into her mouth, and she rises to respond in kind. She moans as he grinds forcefully against her hip.
Her body goes promptly slack in his arms.
Kirk yanks the hypo out of her neck and drops her on to her bed. He removes her clothing swiftly, almost clinically, her body is one he'd used many times before, and the banal familiarity of its contours honestly bores him.
He spreads her clothes across the room, a small flicker of amusement as he drapes her underwear across the bedstead. It'll be the first thing she'd see in the morning, after she gets over the debilitating headache, of course. She'll assume the worst, and he'll have the perfect alibi. Everyone had seen them leaving the mess, and a Captain so indiscreetly dirtying himself with a mere Ensign is an alibi just embarrassing enough to seem vaguely plausible.
Kirk steps through into the bathroom the unfortunate Ensign shares with his Communications Officer. Disabling the privacy settings which automatically lock him from the Lieutenant is mere childsplay, and he's in her quarters in a matter of seconds. As expected, she's oblivious, asleep in bed, her back exposed. Just the way he likes it.
He waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He can see her shifting in her sleep, silky black hair draping her pillow, a fading curved scar on her bare shoulder and a long naked leg draped over cotton white sheets. It's a delicious contrast. Kirk can't resist a tight squeeze of the bulge in his pants before reaching for his knife. He swallows, his thoughts heady with lust and anticipation. His footsteps are silent as he makes his way slowly towards the bed, eyes greedily drinking in the sight before him, all that exposed flesh he knows will soon be under his hands...
So it comes as a total surprise when he finds the world suddenly spinning beneath his feet, his arms stretching above him, white everywhere, the burn of cold metal at his side, grunting and straining and utter confusion.
Click.
He freezes suddenly. He knows that sound all too well, that cold, hard feeling against his wrists. Something round and metal pushes against his jugular and he knows that feeling too.
"Look at me. Don't. Move."
The second instruction is superfluous. He knows the minute that he sees her that he can't. He knows in that second he has underestimated her, the ruthlessness he sees in her eyes is far more tangible than words on a piece of paper, and he trusts his instincts infinitely more than a computer.
Kirk realises, with chagrin, that his knife is gone, she's handcuffed him to the bed, and is holding an Agonizer to his throat. Uhura has him completely at her mercy. She'd been waiting for him, she'd known he was going to come, had deliberately presented him with a most enticing sight to make him careless...
Speaking of enticing sights, he realises with a sudden rush of clarity, that the sheet had been discarded. Kirk is powerless and Uhura has him pinned down, completely naked.
His cock becomes immediately hard.
Uhura laughs suddenly. Eyes sharp, digging the Agonizer deeper into his throat, she leans over to lick the shell of his ear. His breath hitches as she bites down on the sensitive flesh. He resists the urge to buck up against her. Kirk can't show that kind of weakness.
She leans down to whisper against his ear.
"This isn't quite how you imagined it would go, is it, Captain?" He clenches his cuffed fists, refusing to respond. She sharply grinds herself down against him again. "Thought this would be easy didn't you, that I would beg you for my life, for your cock, 'Oh Captain, oh Captain, I'll do anything, please don't hurt me.'"
Her tone is high and sarcastic, but the words are close enough to his fantasies to make his cock throb against her pressing weight. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries for control. She laughs at him again and presses the Agonizer. Shock as his nerves are shot with a jolt of electricity. It only makes him harder.
"Tut, tut, what did I say? Keep your eyes open, on me." Kirk complies, gritting his teeth. Uhura smirks knowingly at him, a manicured hand raking slowly down his clothed body. His wrists twitch in his cuffs, he glares at her defiantly, oh if he ever gets these off...
The room is eerily silent for a few seconds as they stare at each other, each refusing to break eye contact, both battling to be victor.
The hand trailing down his body stops, there's the sound of a zip being drawn inexorably down, the warm pressure of a hand around his exposed cock, small gasps as he struggles to control his breathing.
Her eyes dare him to look away but he's defiant, even as he feels her dragging her hand slowly up his shaft, thumbing a drop of precum from the head. Kirk fights the instinct to bury himself against her neck and pant as her hand picks up the pace against his cock. She sucks two fingers from the other into her mouth, moaning provocatively against them as she rubs her breasts in small circular motions against his chest.
The pressure builds inside of him but he refuses to give in, to show any sign of weakness, even at the end.
That's when the pressure against him stops and he almost groans in frustration, that gorgeous heat lost as she lifts away, his cock left cold and pulsing.
That's when Uhura turns to smirk at him, and promptly straddles his waist, eyes bright with vindictive pleasure she removes the two fingers from her mouth with a small 'pop'.
That's when Kirk realises what she's planning to do. He almost comes on the spot.
She lowers herself on his cock, moaning unashamedly at the sensation of being filled. Her eyes are still trained on his. She doesn't bother taking it slow, slamming herself up and down on top of him, using her unlubricated hand to massage her clit.
Kirk can't help but thrust up into her, matching her brutal rhythm, watching as she takes her pleasure from him. He struggles futilely against his cuffs. He knows there's something in his training about what to do in this kind of situation but for the life of him he can't think...
A burst of pain in his cheek and a harsh growl. "Pay. Attention." Nyota slaps him again as she bears down on his cock with harsh, circular motions. He moans as she shoves her fingers into his mouth once more, drawing them in and out in time with his thrusts, leaning forward to rake her teeth over his ear.
She's increasing the pace now, her movements erratic, the sound of her moaning louder and louder in his ear. He can see the expanse of her exposed neck in front of him, as she buries her face in his shoulder. She fucks herself closer to orgasm, shamelessly taking her pleasure. He can see her fingers slipping, loosening her hold on the Agonizer with every thrust.
That's when he strikes. Slipping his hands from the cuffs, wrists raw from rubbing, Kirk knocks her weapon to the floor, grabs her by the waist and spins her on her back. Uhura eyes widen as she struggles against him.
He thrusts her wrists against the headboard, his full body weight pinning her to the bed, cock still stiff inside her. Uhura quashes the sudden spike of fear as she realises she's trapped, naked beneath Kirk, who's still almost fully clothed. She stills against him, recognising futility, but her eyes remain defiant.
Kirk holds her gaze, triumphantly running his thumbs along her captured wrists. She glares, pushing her hips up and drawing a gasp from his lips, she spits. "Fucking get ON with it, Kirk."
Without warning, he pulls himself out of her, smirking as Uhura involuntarily lets out a small sound of protest at being emptied. Kirk can sense that she's still close, this powerplay between them turning her on as much as it does him. He stops moving. She can still feel his head hovering at her entrance and her mouth moves in a silent moan of frustration. Kirk's smirk widens as if guessing her thoughts, but Uhura refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response, steadily holding his gaze.
Gradually he pushes back in - the agonizingly slow pace in total contrast with their previous frantic fucking. Uhura arches beneath him, panting as he fills her inch by inch, trying to shove herself up onto his cock, but his weight against her proves too much and she gives up, slackening, letting him take her at his pace. She feels like she could weep in relief as he's finally fully seated inside of her.
Then he stops, and she wants to scream.
"Beg." Kirk says, and it almost makes her break eye contact. She struggles not to betray that heady mix of arousal and fear coursing through her. She doesn't answer and he shoves her wrists at a painful angle against the sideboard. "Beg me to fuck you, beg me until you come, hard, around my cock."
She looks directly at him, and spits in his face.
Kirk's expression doesn't change, but there's something dangerous in his eyes now, and Uhura has to suppress a shiver. She's seen that look before on the bridge, the man behind that look had committed genocide, destroyed planets, decimated civilizations. It's burning and burning and she is the focus of it now.
He releases her wrists.
In her shock, Uhura fails to do anything to prevent him grabbing them again, this time pinning one hand against her side, and dragging the other to his mouth. Kirk's eyes never leave hers as he wets her fingers with his tongue. That look has an almost paralyzing effect on her, and she can't seem to move, mesmerised as he licks her fingers thoroughly, the sensuality of it sending an unexpected wave of pleasure to her lower belly.
He pulls her fingers out, suddenly pushing Uhura onto her side and roughly shoving her fingers inside her asshole. The sharp pressure narrows Uhura's world down and she struggles to breathe as he pulls her saliva-coated fingers in and out of her. He takes her other hand and manipulates it to rub in slow circles against her clit.
Uhura buries a loud moan in her pillow. Her ass accommodates slowly to the uncomfortable pressure until the strange fullness starts to feel good. She presses herself down on her fingers, pounding herself hard against her clit now without the prompt of his hand. She lets out a loud moan, biting the sheets beneath her as he adds one of his own fingers against hers, maintaining the relentless rhythm in and out of her ass. She can feel the pressure building and she can't stop the breathy moans from escaping as she rubs her fingers frantically against her sore clit.
Kirk leans over to breathe in her ear, "this is how you pleasure yourself isn't it? Three fingers up your ass and two against your pussy. Who do you imagine is fucking you, huh?" She writhes against the sheets, shame rising at her wantonness, but she doesn't care. So close, she's so close now. "Is it Spock? You imagine him taking you up your ass against the science console, with everyone watching you, is that it? Everyone seeing what a whore you are for Vulcan cock." Uhura shivers in guilty pleasure at the image, rubbing harder against her clit, fighting against those small, desperate sounds in her throat. "Or do you think about me ordering you to suck my cock on the bridge? Giving orders as I'm fucking your mouth. Or maybe you want us both at the same time, Spock up your ass while I come down your throat." At that Uhura comes with a loud moan, still fucking herself against his fingers, shivering with pleasure.
Giving her no time to recover, he flips her onto her knees and shoves his cock into her, fucking her through the last tremblings of her orgasm. He rubs his hand against her hypersensitive clit, eeking out every last drop of painful pleasure. Her arms are too weak to hold herself up, she collapses onto her shoulders, panting into the pillow as he uses her already slick, wet hole, jerking himself in and out roughly, the grip of his hands bruising against her waist. The pressure inside her is too much again and she begs for her second orgasm, muffling the sound of her pleas against the pillow.
She comes with a cry, this orgasm ripping through her with harsher force than the first, Uhura tightens and loosens around his cock as Kirk grunts and shoves himself fully inside, spilling wet semen into her.
For a while, there's nothing but sweat and breath.
Then, head still swimming from her orgasm, she spots a glint of metal in the corner of her eye. Impossibly, Kirk's dropped knife hadn't landed on the floor after all, it had snagged in the sheets and is dangling on the very edge of the bed. She reaches for it with lightning quick hands, shoving the metal beneath the pillow before Kirk recovers enough to be sensible of what's happening.
She feels his cock soften inside her, wincing as Kirk pulls himself out of her spent hole. She can feel some of his come trickling down her leg as he kneels and rolls her over onto her back. She keeps her arms above her head, playing helpless, but her right hand lingers just beneath the pillow, within easy distance of the concealed knife.
Their eyes meet again and she freezes. Kirk is holding the Agonizer in his hand. He's looming over her with the authority of one who knows he has Uhura under his complete control.
"Knew you'd be a good fuck." He smirks, but his voice shakes a little and the bravado doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd be tempted to keep you tied up in my quarters so I could use you whenever I wanted," he drags the Agonizer across one of her nipples, contemplative, "but you belong to Mr. Spock, don't you, and he'd never allow it."
She fights the urge to bristle at the suggestion of 'belonging' to anyone. Patience, Nyota.
"You know," he says, "I'm almost sorry I have to do this." He flicks the Agonizer's setting up to fatal levels and holds it against her heart.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Uhura's voice is steady and confident.
Kirk smirks, "Oh?"
That's when he feels the metal digging into his sternum.
"You press that button, I press this," she drags the knife down and presses it a little harder into his side, "And I assure you, I know exactly which artery would be the most damaging to rupture. You'd die, maybe not instantly, but definitely before Doctor McCoy could get to you."
Kirk's eyes widen, and it's Uhura's turn to smirk up at him, "That's providing, of course, that he'd want to get to you. You never know. Maybe he's one of mine, too."
Kirk's paranoia flares. She can see him analyzing the Doctor's every action, every word of the last few weeks, trying to find any abnormality in his behaviour.
She runs the knife smoothly across his command gold shirt, pausing at his celiac artery, mindful of the Agonizer still pressed against her heart.
Kirk looks at her directly and she tries to project her resolution at him, her determination to carry through with her threat. He responds in kind. Neither are bluffing.
They both know they're going to die here, covered in sweat and come, bleeding out in each others arms.
The world seems to solidify around Uhura, time moves at its normal pace again, and the strange bubble of kirkanduhura, that moment of being wrapped up in their powerplay, has culminated so suddenly in this death grip. The whole situation seems suddenly and inexplicably unreal.
She's twenty-six, she'd just had the most intense sex of her life, and now she's going to die.
Kirk cocks his eyebrow at her. She realises they've frozen there, stock still, staring at each other, naked and vunerable but neither willing to admit it. The image is so absurd that she has to fight against a grin.
"Stalemate?" Uhura blurts out. She immediately wants to clamp a hand over her mouth, but Kirk just sighs in relief, "Oh fuck yeah."
Slowly, and with lingering suspicion in their eyes, they move their weapons away, drawing from each other.
They stare at each other for a few beats.
Kirk's lips twitch.
The ridiculousness of their situation hits Uhura once more and suddenly, impossibly, they're both laughing.
Uhura recovers first. "You knew there was no alliance with Spock."
Kirk shrugs, that slack grin widening. "Seemed like a good excuse to get into your pants."
"And his, too?" She laughs.
Kirk freezes, and Uhura wonders if she's gone to far.
"Maybe." He draws out the word.
She claps her hands together, "I KNEW it, all that stuff about the both of you fucking me on the bridge..."
Kirk fights back a blush, he definitely doesn't blush dammit he's a formidable Starfleet Captain...
Uhura claps a hand over her mouth. "Are you... blushing?"
"No." He snaps, perhaps a little too quickly.
"You're blushing oh my god, I need pictures of this." She reaches for her desk drawer.
He grabs her wrist roughly, glaring at her "No."
She continues giggling, "Sorry, can't take you seriously when your face is red like that."
"I'll kill you."
"No you won't, not when I can make your all your sick little fantasies come true."
There are a few beats of silence. Kirk's eyes are wide.
She sees him swallow slowly around his adam's apple, "What do you mean?"
Uhura smirks and twiddles with a loose strand of her hair. She looks him straight in the eye.
"How would you feel about a little three-way alliance, Captain?"
Type Two, oh definitely Type Two.
-
THE END