The first time Nyota noticed the Vulcan staring at her, she had assumed it was because he suspected she was up to something.
That would be logical.
Marlena, her predecessor in this position, had attempted to assassinate Kirk after-all. And for that she had been made an example of, ten full hours in the agonizer booth followed by lethal injection; excruciating torture followed by the humiliating death born of the only emotion one could muster for her at that point, pity.
It had been a long time after that by Kirk's standards before he began hunting for a replacement, one he had had his eye on from the moment she boarded the ship.
She had been propositioned before, of course and not just by Kirk, but she had no need to take up any man's offer, until recently. She had been Pike's woman, a woman of substantial position until the latest attempt on his life proved successful.
Despite her valuable skills, aurally and with a blade, she feared being taken by force if she could not find protection.
Kirk was the only sensible choice.
So, she said yes.
Kirk fucked like he did everything else, with a charmingly cocky bluster and the know-how to back it up. He cared for her about as much any other good fuck-toy, which was actually quite well, for a man like Kirk. As long he remained Captain, she would remain protected.
There was, however, also the matter of the Vulcan. He seemed to have taken a strange interest in her. At first she thought it was her imagination, the large fathomless eyes she felt on her while she worked, his increasingly invasive nearness when he needed to use her workstation.
She believed he thought she was plotting, attempting some kind of elaborate subterfuge and was merely making certain she would not repeat Marlena's performance.
A moment in the turbolift, however, solidified the truth of his attentions. She walked past him; tall, wiry, neatly trimmed hair on his head and face. She had to admit, she found him enticing, but Vulcans were dangerous and not easily manipulated. They could be swayed by neither bribes nor sexual favors. Their sole ambition seemed to be serving their superiors well.
So, though he did pique her interest in that fashion, she followed her head and maintained a wide-berth, keeping a wary, suspicious eye on him.
His eyes, intense as always, followed her form, the severe cut of her shiny bob, the high-gloss shine of her patent-red lipstick, the flat plains of her exposed belly.
It was a small thing her eyes picked up, the tiniest tremor in his hand before she faced the doors, watching them whisper to a close. She pretended to focus on her padd, her legs relaxed and slightly shifted apart, readying herself. Her left hand casually rested on the dagger holster strapped to the outside of her pants.
The air was thick with quiet tension as she waited for the Vulcan to try her, to give her a reason. She wanted him to, but he did not.
He never touched her, but she could swear she felt the thick heat of him close, so very close behind her and a whisper of warm air at the nape of her neck. So near, he had to be breathing her in.
A warm coil unfurled inside her at that thought and her eyes slipped shut for a full two seconds. Surprised and ashamed of herself, she gripped the hilt of her dagger and turned to find him feet away, his hands folded innocuously behind him.
"Is there a problem, Lt.?" he inquired, his expression blank, but his damn eyebrow quirked knowingly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "No, Commander." a pause... "Lucky for you."
It was risky, threatening a superior officer, but she did share Kirk's bed and gave him quite a bit of pleasure. The Vulcan would have to have a damn good reason for depriving him of that.
The doors swished open and she walked away, her confident stride betraying nothing of her current distractions.
She was still bothered by the wave of need she felt at just a puff of air.
Kirk was flirting with her on the bridge, fingertips dancing along her bare belly in full view of the other officers, making them hate her all the more.
The Vulcan, his second, was noticeably absent.
"Where's your alien?"
"Sick." He said, with a sigh. "Tarkalean flu. Apparently, their immune systems aren't invulnerable."
He dipped his face to the juncture of her throat and shoulder, bee-stung lips stealing a taste of her skin, while she frowned at that bit of information.
If there was one thing her gut was telling her, it was that this was not Tarkalean flu.
He wanted her after-duty. He whispered it to her throughout her shift on the bridge, told her exactly what he would do to her and with enough detail to make her wet for it.
Pulling her into his room and against him, his hands cupped her ass, his kiss rough enough to bruise.
The last thing she remembered was the clinking thud of her holster landing on top of Kirk's command shirt, before all went black.
When she came to, the room slowly swimming into her vision, she noted the dull throb at her neck, her prone position, and the impossibly heavy weight on her hips and wrists. She turned her head and spotted a sightlessly wide-eyed Kirk, still shirtless, laying on the floor near the bed.
A naked, trembling, visually aroused Vulcan was straddling her.
"You do notbelong to him anymore." He said, his eyes bright and glistening wetly.
"Because you killed him." She stated as if noting the weather.
This was not the first time she'd been in such a position. Those foolhardy few who had tried it ended up dead or short a few key parts, but she never had to fight off a Vulcan male.
She remained calm, calculating her next move. Perhaps she could convince him she wanted it. This would not take much, she knew, since part her a big part of her did.
He was Captain now. She would be his woman, if Vulcans were in the habit of taking humans, in that fashion. They supposedly only bonded with their own. They did not take human lovers.
...Until this.
There had been whispers that this Vulcan, one of Spock's parents was human.
Perhaps...
He switched both of her wrists to one hand, and trailed his free hand along the side of her face, his fingertips ghosting across those key points for mental contact.
"You, -you, pleased him." He said, fingertips skating over her thinned lips.
She said nothing to this. She did not think he wanted an answer, but his grip on her wrists tightened.
"-Yes." She gasped.
"...And Pike." He tightened again, painfully.
"Yes!"
"You will do so for me as well." he said darkly.
She licked her lips. "Of course, Spock."
"Gladly."
He blinked and reached beside them, retrieving her own dagger.
Pressing the tip to the hollow of her throat, he continued, his usual measured even tones, deeper and rougher than she had ever heard him.
"Approximately eighty six hours and nineteen minutes ago I stood very close to you. I could hear your heartbeat elevate significantly beyond normal human levels, smell the elevated levels of pheromones in your skin."
He allowed the dagger to trace a delicate trail between her breasts, pausing at the tiny rosette-shaped clasp of her bra.
"...My proximity aroused you. So, while you would believe that you are lying to me, I could sense then and also now, that you are not."
He let the dagger slip into the joint of the clasp, skillfully using the tip to undo the bra without damaging it.
Keeping his eyes steady on her own, he continued.
"By the standards of many species, you are attractive, Nyota. As a Vulcan, however I have had little difficulty keeping my... desire for you hidden."
He allowed his eyes to wander to her lips, clavicle, nipples. "Controlled..."
" ...I find, that I can no longer. Nyota, I burn for you."
He lowered his head, and let his tongue flicker around an areola. Closing his lips around her nipple, he sucked with an audible smack.
She shivered.
"You belong to me, now." He gave her breast a brief hard squeeze for emphasis.
"You are my mate."
He lowered his face to her neck and began to lick and nuzzle her there, like a cat scenting it's master.
"I need. -need to fuck you." Something inside her tipped at that word coming from his mouth, but for Spock no other would do.
This would not be copulation, intercourse, lovemaking.
It would be fucking.
"I do not wish to rape you, but I will if I must. It will soon be beyond my control."
He held himself above her again, locking eyes with her. She found the intensity in them almost unbearable. She was as captive to them as she was to his strength, to her own withering resolve.
"You cannot over-power me." Reflexively tightening a warning once last time, he relaxed his grip on her wrists completely.
She let them stay crossed above her head.
A slow smile curled on her lips. "Well. If you're going to fuck me Spock, do it well."
He blinked hard twice and then scooted down lower, straddling her thighs.
He reached between her legs and slid a finger along the seam of her crotch, testing a theory, savoring the dampness there.
It immediately came undone, with an elastic snap. Just as he had guessed, her undergarments were made for the promise of sexual activity. The closure released with the press of a fingertip.
He eagerly insinuated himself between her legs and without warning thrust three fingers into her, his thumb winding lazily against the hood over clit. She had been wet, very wet, and the noises his movements were making reverberated obscenely in the silent room.
As he thrust faster, he seemed torn between watching her face and his skillful work. He settled on her face.
With a cracked yelp, she came abruptly and hard, so much so she tried to shimmy away, but he gripped her hip with bruising force and worked his fingers faster, forcing her to ride out -too much- every delicious wave.
Before she could come down, she felt her legs being lifted, her hips angled upwards and the slow deliberate penetration of something much bigger.
She hissed at the delicious pressure, ached to be filled with it. He rammed home abruptly, drawing out another sharp cry, the tension in his face, becoming more pronounced. His eyebrows drew together, his lips parted, his breathing labored on, as he pounded into her with abandon, madness completely taking hold.
Nyota's arms spread out in a wide arch, grabbing fistfuls of sheet as she tried to ground herself in the onslaught. Pike had enjoyed watching her pleasure herself on his elaborate machines...
Spock was one.
It felt so good, she relished the dull ache that came with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, unbidden tears leaking from them. He panted against her hair, his sharp breaths becoming grunts and she felt herself coming again, roughly being shoved into the blinding white of pure pleasure.
His movements stuttered in response, her body gripping him, pulling him along, over the edge with her until he roared in completion.
After. He fucked her twice more before melding with her. Within her mind, he found the beginnings of a twisted spark, a capacity for refined cruelty, fierce ambition, and a complete indifference for all but herself... and now, Spock.
He had tried to shield parts of his own mind from her, but she reached deeply with her own, greedily gleaning everything she could find, his father's vicious bigotry for his humanity, his reconciling that with the love -and contempt- he knew he felt for his mother.
The curiosity he was, envied for the favored pet status his humanity brought him in the Empire and despised all the more for it by all.
The first tendrils of lust he felt for her as Pike held her in a corridor, his fingers reaching for her mouth.
Spock had watched her, wanted her then, possessed by a greed he did not think himself capable of, as she pressed her glossy red lips together and smiled.