WARNING: This is a kink-meme fic that will eventually involve rape. The prompt is below, I usually don't like to post it until the end as not to spoil the suprise, but in this case I'm letting you see it so you know what you're getting into.

PROMPT:

Okay, I feel like a misogynist for requesting this:

Nero rapes Uhura while Spock, Kirk, McCoy, and whoever you want watch from a prison cell or something. It's totally brutal and Spock is trying so hard not to freak out and the boys are like "omg, dont look, dont look" but even when he closes his eyes, he hears her screaming for his help and he can't. do. anything. GAH!

Bonus: Ayel comes in before or during and, looking at Uhura, says, "What, is this the Vulcan's wife?"

Nero replies, "No. Just his whore."

Extra bonus: Spock helping Nyota recover for the torture Nero (and I) put her through. Especially if he gets her to have sex with him again, being extra tender and sweet and working through her fear of it after her traumatic experience

(I SWEAR I LOVE UHURA, but I am a person with strange kinks and would enjoy this and am certain someone out there agrees, even if they are likewise embarrassed.)

So there you go. Feel free to complain about my writing, but not about being offended :)

Spock had always been a little insecure in his relationship. He never quite understood why a beautiful, intelligent girl like Nyota would be interested in him, and he certainly never thought that he deserved her. But there was something about her smile, about the way she talked to him that made his day a little brighter and in the end he made the leap. He loved her in a way he couldn't quite describe.

He tried to tell her how he felt once and it came out "marry me" and they had a beautiful wedding on the Academy grounds, looking into the bay. With the destruction of Vulcan still fresh in their minds, the ceremony was subdued, but there were still speeches and congratulations and dancing, which scandalized the Vulcan guests.

That night after the festivities ended, Spock crept close to Nyota and put his hands on her face. She understood immediately: he had to complete their union. He had to go into her mind. And he was afraid.

He had never thought that she could like him the way he was, and now that she did, he was afraid she'd recoil when she saw all of him. He stared into her eyes for one last minute before he put his fingers on her forehead and pushed until he saw himself looking back at her, beads of sweat dripping down his face. In her mind, he felt a shield. She had braced herself. She was prepared for anything.

She thought he might not love her. Not in the way she felt it. She thought she might look into his mind and find nothing but logic and probabilities and conclusions. Spock brought the feeling up from his chest and let it spill through her. And then he felt shock. She had prepared herself for love. She had prepared herself for coldness. She had not prepared herself for how broken he was.

In his head, Spock cursed. How could he have not hidden it from her for even a minute?

"It's okay," she soothed him and he opened up again.

He felt broken. Since birth, people had done nothing but reject him. At first, he'd lashed out. Fought back. But that had been the good part. The part before he had started to believe that he deserved it.

There were his parents—who were they? A Vulcan and a human who had happened to fall in love? Two activists whose belief in interspecies co-operation had shaded every aspect of their lives? Two people who were foolish enough to believe that love really would conquer all? Spock and hundreds of columnists didn't know.

He did know that they'd kept him there. And now that he was older, now that he had left, he knew that it would have been so much better for him on Earth. His father had argued that there would still be bullies, there would still be prejudice and that humans mostly just pretended to be tolerant. Now Spock knew that his father had only said that because most Vulcans were still civil to him. He had no concept of what it was like to be around people who didn't even bother to pretend.

And even his father looked down on him. He had never said or done anything, but Spock just knew. It was in his eyes, the way he looked at him. The way he was almost too surprised, too please by his success. Only his mother looked at him and only saw her son. It was she who always suggested that they go back to Earth. It was her who always talked so much and did so little.

So he'd trudged on. He'd done what people said. He'd buried everything he was and thanked them as they despised him for it. He'd let them tell him what to want and then hate him when he got it.

And now, she could feel his pain. She could feel his anguish. And instead of shock or revulsion or pity, Spock felt duty. Responsibility. She had promised to love and respect him and she was going to do it no matter what.

It was a strangely Vulcan feeling.

He relaxed and felt her love spill over him. It was sweet and good and pure and it tamed his fear of rejection. He savoured it as he felt her lean forward and kiss him. And he sent the feeling back. He'd been beaten and broken and rejected, but he had something left and he loved her with all of it.

When he woke up later in the night he contentedly rolled the evening around in his head for a few minutes before he started to worry. What if she had changed her mind? What if she'd felt different now that it had sunk in. He had to check and make sure. Moving over, he put his hands on her forehead and opened his mind. The movement was too much and she woke up.

He quickly tried to hide it, to lie that he had just wanted to see into her mind again because he liked the feeling, but she had already seen right through him. She sidled up to him and lifted his arm over her so he could touch her temples.

"We can sleep like this," she whispered, and she seemed to understand. His mother was dead and she was all he had left. He had been rejected so much and still opened up and he wasn't sure if he could handle rejection again.

She shifted again, and her feelings were different. She was glad. Glad she had him. Glad they were together. He relished the glow as she drifted off to sleep. And he was pleased. More pleased than he would ever show, even through the link. But he also felt a little wistful. He couldn't help but think that the feeling was too good to last.