Warning: Contains smut, humour and strange Vulcan anatomy. You have been warned.
I
"Cadet!" he scolds, as she lowers herself to her knees and positions her head between his legs.
She doesn't listen.
"Did you not say that you were stressed out, and did you not say that you loved me?" she whispers, mocking his tone.
He can't deny either accusation. He sighs, and looks sharply at at table as if to indicate that later, he'll have her screaming on it. She unbuttons his pants, feasting her eyes and smiling in silent victory.
She engulfs him, and he throws his head back slightly. He's oblivious to the world, and almost there, when she spits him out screaming,
"What is that!?"
He looks at her in surprise.
"What is what?" he groans with a touch of anger, wishing she hadn't stopped so abruptly.
She stands up and points between his legs. Looking down, he gives her a disdainful glare.
"That," he says, "Is a prong," as if it is utterly obvious.
She looks at him.
"You mean you have a prong on your ... "
"Yes."
"Isn't that a bit--"
He cuts her off.
"Can we discuss this later?" he asks a bit urgently, indicating between his legs.
She looks fazed, but kneels down and starts licking, albeit carefully.
II
"Can't you just get it surgically removed?" she asks, pacing around his quarters.
"No," he snaps indignantly.
"Why not?" she wants to know.
"Do you not think that asking your boyfriend to have a piece of his penis surgically removed is a bit ... unreasonable?"
She thinks about this.
"It just seems dangerous, that's all"
"Vulcan women happen to enjoy being pronged," he says defensively, "And I believe you have the same slang here on Earth."
"Spock!" she snaps, "That's an expression. They don't have actual prongs."
III
In school, the boys were prong-obsessed. After their first Pon Farr, they were all talking about whose was bigger or sharper or longer. And the screams. Everyone was bragging about how loud their girl had screamed.
But Spock hadn't had sex yet. On the day that all his peers had awoken filled with madness, Spock had found T'Pring and taken her to a hilltop.
"Are we going to mate?" she asked him eagerly, as if it was the latest trend.
This posed a problem for Spock.
"I do not actually know you," he told her slowly.
"Why does that matter?" she asked.
It did to Spock.
"I just think we should get acquainted first."
She didn't like this, but she followed him. As they looked out over the city, he put his arms around her and, starting at her ear, began to kiss down her cheek.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, pulling away.
He had been hoping for more obedience from a future wife.
"It's a human mating behaviour," he tried to explain, "Scientists believe that it allows one to judge the suitability of a mate by getting their scent."
"But you know I am suitable because your parents said so," she said, sounding confused, and then added, "Does this mean we are going to mate?"
"I am not sure yet," Spock replied much to her chagrin.
"Is it not pleasant," he asked, "To hold each other, and look out at the city?"
"I am familiar with the appearance of the city," she answered.
He never did sleep with her.
IV
Uhura was wearing a short skirt, high heels and a halter top. And she was drunk. Drunk enough to lean on the wall for support as he entered the code for his quarters.
As soon as they were in, she started kissing him. Touching him. Running her hands across his pants.
A few years before, Spock would have stopped her. But that was a few years before. At age twenty-six, Spock was beginning to think that life was just a series of things you never thought you'd do, if you'd been asked whether you thought you'd do them a few years earlier.
And she was begging for it. He pulled her clothes off and carried her to his bed. When he lay he down, she writhed against him. She kissed him ravenously. She moaned when he touched her.
He thought he saw a faint look of concern in her eyes when she saw him take off his pants.
"I will be careful," he whispered, and she seemed assuaged.
She gasped as he entered, and yelled out as he pounded harder and harder. He could feel her pleasure in her grasp, her breath, the way she twitched, just slightly, every time he bore down. And his own pleasure was mounting. He allowed himself a single, astonished breath, as she began to scream and convulse.
A wave of ecstasy poured over him, and he lost control. He began to growl and snarl and snap. The fact that beneath him, the screams of pleasure had changed to screams of terror subtly registered. And what did was that he found them pleasing. Appealing. Proof of his manhood. He yelled wantonly as he emptied himself and pulled out, leaving one last rip.
"I am never doing that again!" she spat angrily, as soon as she was capable of speech.
He just looked at her.
"Did you not say you loved me?"
************************************************************
A/N: Written for the following LJ prompt:
"So, when I was a kid, I went to the zoo, and learnt that some big cats (lions, I think) have a prong on their penis, which rips the lioness's vagina during sex, causing her to release an egg (I will never ask why the lioness is screaming so loud again). So, I was thinking, what if Spock has such a prong, because Vulcans are decended from felines, after all? S/U if possible, they're my favourite pairing"