A/N: This was written on a whim for the Porn Battle VIII; I am still working on regular fics for these guys and even possibly planning a full length one (God help us all :/), but in the meantime I'm indulging in a little frivolous "relationship exploration" without much plot. So if sex acts be offendin', you best not be lookin'. There be pr0ns here. Also, I know that FFnet tends to get grumpy at some of these things so really if it bothers you guys, please don't read it, that way no one gets hurt, alright? And maybe next time I'll get around to writing that first kiss I wanna write so bad. Evasive little bugger.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. Just the arrangement of words in this particular story.
La Cadenza
by Lanesy.
She was completely set on this. In fact, not only was she set, she was excited. But it was a matter of timing now, and of the lack of inhibition. One moment of hesitation and the whole experience would be ruined for her. Therefore, it was the only logical conclusion that to stay true to the purpose of the evening, there was to be no qualm, no question, no restraint.
And oh God, just rationalizing it like him, perverting his train of thought the way she just had alone was making her wet.
It hadn't quite become routine for her, this. An occasional treat, a delicious indulgence for the nights that she needed him but he just wasn't available, for whatever the reason he presented to her. Most of the time it was due to work, but some of the time it was just because he didn't realize, didn't understand the ways she had to have him, and she was never sure how to communicate to him the urgency of it. Sometimes even she didn't understand the urgency of it.
She just knew it was near insatiable. Sometimes she wondered if he even knew what that meant.
But it was no matter at this point, she realized as she flopped on the bed with a heavy breath, struggling with a gleeful glint in her eye to pull the over-sized shirt up over her head. Tossing the offensive garment on the floor with a soft grunt, she laid back against the pillows. So soft, so inviting, her side of this large bed, that she took a moment to relish in the feel of the cool fabric against her flushed, fevering skin. The dim light next to her head cast a golden glow over her mahogany skin, and would normally be a detail that she would not notice, but tonight she took special care to regard her own body; the way her breasts rose and fell with her deep, even breaths; the way the white lace of her panties hugged the curve of her hips; the way she bent her knees to see her legs, long and shapely as she rubbed her thighs together in a slow, sensual rhythm, relishing every curve.
Seeing herself the way he would see her. Adoring herself the way she wanted him—needed him—to adore her.
Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she bit back the grin, a low purr-like sound rumbling in her chest. Nimble hands with delicate fingers raised on their own accord, one moving to an exposed breast, giving the flesh a squeeze as her neatly manicured thumb grazed over the nipple, causing her to exhale a satisfied breath as she brought the sensitive skin to a peak. But she would waste no time, as the other hand was ready to get straight to business, palm splaying over her stomach as it moved down, down, down to the core of her ignited body. She dipped her fingers under the hem of her panties, shivering in delight at the contrast of the cooling lace against the slickness of her own heat. She already knew what she would find, but nonetheless took a moment to draw a finger into herself slowly, lazily, another soft grunt exhaling through her nostrils as her fingertips stroked the bundle of nerves with a feather light touch.
Just like he would have.
"Spock," she breathed, and could almost feel the immediate flush of her skin before she had even quit shivering from her confession, needing to remind herself repeatedly that it was alright, no one was here to hear it, to judge it, to make her feel silly or guilty for this. She would never feel guilty for this.
But for good measure she closed her eyes, imagining his face, that brow, those lips as he looked down at her with so little expression, even though she knew he was still letting go of some restraint at the sight—the feel—of her. She knew what he looked like when he was kissing her—yes, she watched him, and with great zeal—seeing those hard eyes close and that pronounced brow furrow as he struggled to keep his emotions in check, his lips moving against hers with barely restrained ardor, practically begging her with each and every kiss. It never failed to leave her breathless, even now when all she had to go by was the memory of it in the back of her mind.
Dipping her fingers deeper, with one long stroke she pushed in and pulled out of herself, a soft moan breaking passed her lips as she lifted her fingers out of her panties. But she did not open her eyes to look, to see the glistening moisture pooled on her fingertips. Did not look because behind her eyelids, the image of her lover loomed next to her, his lithe hands reaching for hers and pulling her slick fingers to his mouth, tasting the fruits of her little experiment. Her breathing quickened exponentially, swearing she heard that deep, sated rumble that always came from his throat when he was enjoying her at his own languid, tortured pace.
Barely started and she could hardly wait any longer. This little trial had already gotten the best of her, but she knew the reason for that was the fact that the best part—the most delicious part—was yet to come.
Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up on her elbow and stretched to the stand next to the bed, careful not to move the lower half of her body too much and disrupt the work she had already done for herself.
It was well-known around the ship that she was an independent woman; she liked to do for herself and wasn't afraid to do what she knew needed to be done. She liked to be in control, and take that control when no one else was competent enough to do it. She could take care of herself. But in her personal life—in her alone time—this wasn't necessarily the case. Sometimes, she just didn't feel like doing all the work. It was times like these when her nights alone were the most gratifying.
Reaching into the drawer that she had pulled open in haste, her semi-slick fingers curled around the device waiting patiently for her, and for the first time she actually hesitated pulling it into view, knowing that once she did, this was definitely happening and there would be no changing the plan of action. A long deep breath and she decided, committing fully to the task ahead. The walls of her slick heat responded and clenched instinctively in anticipation as she pulled the translucent pink vibrator (because green would have just been too ironic, even for her) into view. It was the closest to his actual size that she could find, and while the story of actually looking for this item was a tale in itself, she still congratulates herself on her impeccable choices as her eyes appraised it a little sheepishly, this remarkable device that had the optimal structure for both her vaginal and clitoral stimulation.
She could almost hear him stating it in her head, and had to resist rolling her eyes, both at what would have been his choice of words, and the fact that she was actually a little hot and bothered by the idea of him saying it.
Even though she knew they were near soaking wet, it was imperative to keep her panties on. She couldn't explain this, and certainly didn't need to, but reminding herself of it sent another shiver of pleasure down her spine as she rolled languidly back onto her back. The translucent pink of the flexible vibrator seemed to glow in the dim light, but it was a fleeting thought as it soon disappeared from sight. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, flitting about with nervous anticipation as her hand felt for just the right position, the lace of her underwear brushing rhythmically against the back of her hand. Angling the tip of the molded device at her opening, she paused for just a moment, realizing she needed to catch her breath. Just for a second. Just like she did when her lover would pause, positioning himself against her and waiting for her permission to enter her.
Slowly, so slowly, she pushed the device inside of her, letting out another ragged breath and gasping at the coolness of it. It was so different from him but the contrast to her own heat was enough that it was easy to pretend, pretend that it was him burning inside of her. As it buried deeper, she felt the teasing tickle of the clitoral attachment brush against her bundle of nerves, and she took the opportunity to move it, mold it to her with her fingers into that perfect spot. Almost there. The anticipation was swallowing her, making it hard for her to swallow herself as she gasped a little for air, feeling how dry and ragged her throat had become in just the past few moments. It would not be remedied soon.
With shaky fingers she stretched her arm, her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth in mild concentration as her knees curled, her legs parting, her toes digging into the cotton sheets. With great care, her fingertips turned the dial at the base of the device until a moment later she could hear—and feel—the quiet hum beneath the veil of her panties. The mild vibration caused her toes to curl, her hips grinding slowly in response to the sensation. Her free hand traveled over her torso, her skin no longer silky smooth but slightly balmy with heat, while her other hand pushed the toy further in, a little harder against her clitoris before she pulled it back halfway, letting the cool air of the room cling to her slick heat as she shivered again, his name once again a breathless prayer on her lips.
She was ready. So ready for this.
With a determined sigh, she shifted her hips, parting her legs wide and grinding herself experimentally on the device that now felt so similar to her lover, with all the added pleasure of the vibration. A carefully calculated flick of her fingers and the dial was turned a little more—right there, just a little more—until she could feel the vibration hard and confident not only against her clitoris but inside of her, deep inside of her where she imagined her lover burying himself relentlessly.
Mimicking what she would have urged him to do, she pushed the device deep, deep—there, that was the spot—deep enough to fill her to the hilt, resting against that evasive bundle of nerves that he always knew how to hit just right when he was fucking her. She arched her back with a gasp, licking her dry lips and shuddered, letting her body get accustomed to the vibrations that were now pulsing through her whole body. Not nearly at maximum, but just enough. God, just enough for this.
Angling the device down, forcing herself to keep her back arched, she closed her eyes and imagined this was where he would tuck his arms possessively under the small of her back, lifting her slightly from the bed as he reared back on his haunches and started a steady rhythm, his fevered palms splayed over her spine to support her. Now.
Now.
She grunted, a mix of pleasure and concentration as she rested the base of the device against the inside of her underwear, the fabric holding it tightly in place inside of her. God, not yet deep enough, not like he would be. With the toy propped between her body and the cloth of her underwear, she freed both of her hands and arched her back a little more, tucking her hands under her backside to reach for the rear hem of her panties. When she felt the lace against her fingers, she wasted no time and curled them around the fabric and pulled—slowly, oh slowly—until she could feel the fabric forcing the device deep inside of her, hard against her clit, and holding it there unwaveringly. The base of it pushed against the mattress and she ground her hips once more, testing it, and let out a strangled moan, barely containing her ecstasy as the action gave her the exact results she wanted.
To be able to buck against it at any speed she wanted, on her back, legs spread wide, feet splayed on the bed and still feel like she was the one being fucked. Her hands completely and utterly free.
So slick, so wet, as her hips moved, the device moved in and out of her effortlessly, massaging against the most sensitive nerves in the most beautiful ways. He would be so proud of her, knowing that she had taken the time to discover what he had long since discovered, and that thought caused her to clench involuntarily again. Her whole body shuddered at the explicit pleasure, her fingers curling into the sheets on either side of her as she arched up and bucked her hips down, then up, imagining his hips between her legs, the full girth of him inside her, his arms pulling her against him in an unforgiving embrace.
Her breath became erratic, her eyes opening, widening as her mouth hung open, her hands flying behind her quickly for the pillow beneath her head. With a wrench she pulled it from under her, flipping it longways and resting it above her, the gentle heat of it from where she lay now warming her stomach and the insides of her thighs. It wasn't as hot as his skin nor nearly as heavy as his body would be on top of hers, but it was enough to help her pretend.
"Ungh, Spock, please," she begged, another illicit chill traveling over her arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake, as her fingers stretched and splayed over the back of the pillow. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she imagined him now, his full weight against her as he would bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathing hard and molding his hands against her buttocks, pulling her and pounding into her forcefully. Encouraged by the sound of his name on her pleading lips.
Her hips moved faster, harder, fingers clenching the pillow as tiny grunts pushed past her lips, her breath catching in her throat once, twice as she forced her own legs wider, toes burning against the sheets at the friction they caused, desperate to get a grip and give her some leverage. One hand curled over her breast once more and moved up to her neck, the side of her face, her fingertips shakily touching the familiar nerve points he would have reached for by now.
"Oh, God," the words spilled past her lips in an almost tearful plea, a pleasured sob as her hips rotated and ground down hard, the tip of the device rubbing firmly against the deep bundle of nerves. The vibration of it coursed like a hot wave through her entire belly, that low, tickling tingle starting to curl in the pit of her and she knew it was coming. Knowing that alone was encouraging enough and she ground down again in the same fashion, Spock's name forced again from her drying lips in a breathless sob. Rhythmic moans, each one cut short by a desperate gasp, gathered in her throat as she hastened the pace, her clitoris swollen now and aching to release a torrent of pleasure through her body.
Not yet. Not—
Right there, there, Spock there—
Her hands flew back, gripping the headboard as her breath caught hard in her lungs, the full function of her body unresponsive as she was completely incapacitated—her back arched, hips pressed down hard into the mattress—by the low wave of pleasure that built and ripped through her like electricity. She could have sworn her heart stopped, the veins in her neck strained visibly against the sweat of her body, all of it glistening in the dim lighting as she tried so hard to see her lover in the exploding light behind her eyelids. And then imagine what he would be seeing.
Another low wave hit her like a sonic blast, a deep, rumbling moan ripped ferociously from deep within her throat as she came, her walls clenching around the vibrator like it was determined to win the battle, her thighs, her calves, her belly, breasts, arms, all shuddering and shaking in the aftermath of what one could easily term the most intense orgasm ever unofficially recorded in the Alpha Quadrant. And probably the Delta, too.
With ragged breaths that threatened to turn into electrified sobs as her body still convulsed slightly, she reached quickly between her legs, trying desperately to avoid that sharp, incapacitating tickle against her sensitive clit as the vibrator had no idea how to stop itself. It was a fevered rush to move the pillow and turn the dial, but in a moment her head was falling back against the mattress, her eyes closed in relief, completely sated.
This was where he would breathe heavily into the valley between her breasts, showering them with ragged, sweaty kisses between gulps for air as she continued to convulse sporadicly around him, but only for a moment until he regained his composure. She allowed herself that last, delectable image in the back of her mind as her feet slid exhausted against the sheets, her hand reaching limply between her legs to retrieve the device from her folds.
This time, a taut silence was all that greeted her, as she pulled the vibrator from under her panties, trying hard not to look at it lest it completely kill the beautiful afterimage she was seeing in her own head—she and Spock laying in exhaustion, all limbs tangled like briers in the sheets and one another, his hand still lingering on her brow in the aftereffects of another rare but perfect meld.
Slowly, Nyota opened her eyes, catching her bottom lip in her teeth in a sly, teasing smile, her gaze lidded by exhaustion and lingering arousal at what she had just done.
And for the first time since she started, she turned her head slowly to the right, her shoulders shrugging upward sheepishly as she met the eyes of her lover seated in the chair a few feet from the bed.
Spock's face was impassive as ever, his posture impeccable as always, though slightly leaned forward with his hands on his knees. His observational and experimental pose, she had come to learn, ruthless and objective. But as she held his eyes, she shivered delightfully, her fingers absently collecting her own juices off of the vibrator before she set it aside. His eyes were dark, lidded, and she knew from the way his nostrils flared, ticking ever so slightly, that he had just lost this game.
Her lips curled into a grin, watching him breathlessly as he stood with a purpose, straightening his tunic ever so properly before crossing the space between the chair and the bed, taking a seat slowly on the edge of it. Pivoting at his waist and propping one hand over her shoulder to pin her down, he reached his free hand around and grabbed her soaked fingers, holding them up to look at them curiously. Analytically. Logically, trying to figure out what exactly to do with them.
Nyota let out a satisfied sigh when he darted his tongue out and took two of them slowly into his mouth, his eyes flickering dangerously to hers. Just as she had hoped.
"Mmm," she purred, her hips writhing again in remembrance as he leaned down to her, pinning her arm above her head as he gave her a feather light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "And that's just one way I like to do it without you," she whispered smugly before his lips devoured hers in a heated kiss.