Warning: Sexy times.
Summary: Uhura is all through waiting…she’s going to seize the day, or rather the Vulcan.
A/N: Written for a prompt at the LJ stxihetkinkmeme “Spock/Uhura; hot & fast first time sex,” combined with an older prompt from the kink meme. “I find myself reading mainly slash because I find het smut usually written so unrealistically. I would LOVE to read a fic where a woman cannot just magically come just from
This was originally posted , unbetaed, on the stxihetkinkmeme. I am reposting this improved version. Apologies to those how have read the original.
My deep thanks to Atana71 for many helpful hints and to the incomparable SpockLikesCats for beta editing.
Happy New Year!
To Nyota it seems she’s been waiting forever. Three long years of watching and wanting and waiting and, let’s face it, lusting. Oh, how she has lusted after the most unobtainable man on the whole Starfleet Academy campus. So it’s no surprise that now she is with Commander Spock, alone, in his bedroom on New Years Eve, she isn’t in any mood for patience. Soft, lyrical, gentle lovemaking has its place, but to be honest, right here, right now, she just wants him … hot and hard.
Fortunately Spock seems to want the same.
As soon as they’re alone they … well, Nyota doesn’t know who grabs who first, but it certainly isn’t a gentle embrace, they’ve just surged together, and his hands … those long-fingered, strong, sensitive hands … are just everywhere. She isn’t being left behind either, for three years she’s watched the muscles of his shoulders and backside flex during his morning run and wondered what it would be like to feel them move under her fingers ... she isn’t about to give up on the chance to find out now that it’s within her grasp. Damn.
First kisses are supposed to be gentle explorations, all soft lips and caressing tongues with lilting orchestral music in the background. Theirs is distilled demanding intensity and as much sucking, biting and grinding as kissing. If there’s background music, it’s heavy metal, with a driving bass. Their lips will be bruised and swollen in the morning.
Spock has already swept her uniform sweater off over her head, undone her skirt, unclipped her bra and slipped one hand down into her panties. Unfair -- she can’t unfasten his instructor’s uniform while she’s pressed against him. If she’s going to be naked, so is he -- the sooner the better.
“Too many clothes” she says breathlessly.
“I concur,” is his equally breathless reply. He steps away; with swift, military precision he removes his dark jacket, boots, trousers, black undershirt and briefs, folding all the clothes neatly over the back of a chair, and sweeping his boots aside with an impatient foot … she wishes she had a recorder with her; she could watch him shed his uniform over and over and never get bored.
Spock turns back to face her. Nyota suddenly realises she’s just standing ogling him and breathing hard. Snap out of it, girl -- why just look when you can touch? With this encouraging thought she meets Spock’s intense gaze and lets her skirt slide off onto the floor, closely followed by her bra. He drops to one knee, steadying her as she takes off her boots, then hooks his fingers in the sides of her regulation panties and pulls them down in one movement … those long fingered hands trailing heat all the way.
She is so ready for him … three years of slow foreplay will do that to a girl.
All of Nyota’s late night fantasies begin to ping pong around in her head. What to do first? Kiss him again... or drop to her knees and taste him? Now she can find out once and for all what happens when she nips the tips of his ears … So many sexy thrilling things... but overwhelming them all is the driving need to have him inside her... so she figures she’ll go with that.
“Indeed,” Spock says and for a second Nyota wonders if she’s spoken her thoughts aloud or if his touching her has initiated some telepathic link. Now his hands are beneath her thighs -- he stands, hoisting her up, as if she weighs nothing. The rush of sensations, his body heat, the soft but springy chest hair beneath her hand, the pressure of his fingers again her skin, wipe her mind clean.
In two strides they’re at the bed. It must be sturdily constructed because they basically fall onto it. Then he’s on top of her -- the solid weight and heat of his body are driving her mad. Greedily, demandingly, they’re kissing again. Her teeth grind against his lips and she tastes sharp coppery blood in her mouth. This only seems to excite Spock further and she makes a mental note to consider this later.
Her hands haven’t been idle, after briefly but thoroughly exploring his back she works her hand around his hip, parting their bodies enough to wrap her fingers around the glorious length of him and starts stroking, slowly and firmly.
Spock’s forehead drops to hers as his body moves in time with her hand. He's whispering something, words low and dark and dangerous; they are too soft to make out the meaning but the sentiment is clear. She releases him, grips his hips and rocks her pelvis against his, hard. He doesn’t need any other hints. Spock pulls away briefly, positions himself and pushes into her.
Nyota always loves the feeling of that first deep thrust and this, this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced, because this is Spock. She arches up -- her whole body feels the physical equivalent of a scream of joy. There’s one taut second as he pauses -- gives them both a moment to adjust -- draws back and thrusts into her. And God, oh God, it is worth the wait. Nyota feels every cell in her body reaching for him. Her nipples are so stiff they ache and her skin feels ultra sensitive.
She craves him in a way that’s frightening. Part of her has thought, maybe hoped, her obsession with Spock would fade if she had him, that she could return to her carefully mapped-out plans without such a distraction. But as far as she can tell her yearning is escalating and she has an inkling that it is more than just “obsession”.
Spock supports himself on his arms looking down at her; his face has the same half- stunned expression she feels on her own. He looks straight into her eyes and begins to move, deep, firm, driving thrusts. Nyota’s right there with him, knees flung wide, heels firmly planted into the mattress for leverage.
He’s too far away! She wants his weight on her. Her hands curl over his shoulders, pulling; he understands, lowering some of his weight onto her. It means she can’t move as much but she needs to feel the press of him like she needs air.
He continues his steady thrusts, slowly increasing his rhythm. Then he hooks an arm under her thigh, changing his angle. She sees stars, honest-to-goodness stars. She hasn’t thought she could feel anything more intense, but the sensations radiating from between her thighs intensify.
They’ve been quiet thus far but the physical sensations are so intense Nyota needs some release. Sounds pour out of her, primal incoherent sounds and half-formed words. She feels Spock react to her cries and he catches the next one in his mouth in a deep, compelling kiss.
As their lips break apart he arches his neck backward, groaning. Nyota feels the sound vibrate in her core, it’s worth three years of angst-filled waiting to hear that one sound of helpless need and desire. She rocks against him clenching him tightly, internally and externally; he shudders and groans again before dropping his head into the crook of her neck and moving his arms behind her shoulders. She feels cradled, surrounded; sensations like warm liquid gold are condensing in her and she’s getting close when Spock’s movements stutter and he presses into her long and hard, holding the pressure. He climaxes with a deep guttural cry. Nyota teeters just on the edge of her orgasm, not quite able to fall.
Spock moves; resting his weight to one side he withdraws from her. Nyota is so wound up she’s trembling and doesn’t even object. Mentally she’s screaming, “Don’t you DARE leave me like this …” Then Spock’s hot mouth is on her breast sucking deeply and one hand slides between her legs, stroking rhythmically and firmly. She arches up into his mouth, insistent, frantic, and he moves to suckle the other nipple and all the time his hand strokes and rubs.
He lifts his head, kissing her briefly, then slides down her body to lie between her legs. His thumbs trace invisible circles in the wetness of her inner thighs for a moment before his lips and tongue take up where his fingers left off. Nyota’s desperation melts into something softer, warmer and heavier. It pools deep within her and keeps building and building. Suddenly it’s as if she is free of gravity -- every droplet in the warm lake of sensation hangs suspended and weightless and pure for an infinite timeless second before crashing down again in a pulsing torrent of sensation.
Nyota rides the waves of sensation until the shuddering conclusion. She is vaguely aware when Spock moves back up to lie beside her. He slips one arm behind her so she lays with her head cradled against his shoulder. His other hand rests between her thighs. Like a warm breeze through an open door a sensation flutters through her -- not quite a thought, not exactly a feeling -- it is something warming, possessive and claiming. She looks up, meeting Spock’s eyes.
They lie together, gazing at each other, both discovering something unexpected before Nyota draws Spock down into their first soft, lingering kiss.
A/N: Not in my comfort zone here. I do suffer from severe “smut cringe” so I suppose posting this is therapy, of sorts! Your constructive comments would be appreciated.
- Current Location:Home
- Current Mood: sleepy