Hand Fascination: The Continuation
A/N-Here's some dirty talk...type? with Sock and Uhura! Sorry about the out of characterness, but the idea just wouldn't let me go. Again, I adore writing these little snippets, so if anyone wants something more M, longer, a specific pairing, an orgy, anything just let me know!
Click. Clackity clack click.
Spock twitched.
Tap, tap tap. Click.
Spock clenched his fists against his knees. Behind him, Nyota continued to type away at her consol. He could tell just what she was typing by listening to the time between each soft clack of the keys. She was sending a missive to Starfleet Command, detailing the ships latest findings in this new quadrant. They had spent the last several weeks mapping a recently discovered nebula cluster, and overall the report was rather dull. No new elements, no new astral formations, no new nothing.
With each key stroke Spock felt his pulse jump in time, felt his skin prick as he imagined her capable fingers gliding over his body and pressing with the same light force. Spock forced a blush down as his mind glided farther away from his station. How could he concentrate on the completely, indescribably, utterly unimportant readings the science station was spewing out at him when just yards away Lt. Uhura was unintentionally bringing him to his very knees.
Finally the typing silenced for a moment,
"Captain? Do you want to re-read this report before I send it in?"
"I'm sure you did a fine job Uhura," Kirk peered around Dr. McCoy and Lt. Scott to flash his Communications Officer a thankful smile.
"Good, because I've already sent it in," Nyota smiled back, cheekily sharing in the laughter that rang across the deck before turning back to her station and opening another document.
Spock shifted uneasily in his seat, counting down the moments till this shift ended and he would be able to retreat to his quarters and meditate. Spock was close to his Time, and with each passing day he grew more and more easily distracted by things of a carnal nature.
…Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. …
Spock frowned. Uhura had begun idly tapping the space bar of her keyboard, and for some reason was tapping out the outdated S.O.S message in Morse code. The light strokes of her thumb over the key was low enough that Spock was confident he was the only being on the bridge able to hear it. Nevertheless, it was still puzzling. For long moments she continued the slow and almost lazily absentminded tapping, then stilled for a moment.
I know you can hear this.
Spock resisted the very human urge to whirl around in his seat to look at Nyota, instead he tapped out the Morse signal for 'affirmative' on his own consol.
Listen. Very closely.
Again, Spock flicked his fingertips across his keypad in agreement.
Think about how easy it would be for you to come over here and throw me up against the consol. You're a Vulcan, you're easily three times my strength. You could rip my uniform off without the slightest effort, have me naked and excited in mere moments.
Spock swallowed hard, listening to Nyota as she tapped out her message. It was obscene, so soft and insignificant a sound composing a lewd message, a message everyone was hearing but only they understood.
You'd push me back against the station, hands roaming up my legs, fingertips burning against my skin as you feel my excitement. Our moans filling the bridge, the sound of fabric ripping, clothing being flung away, your breath heavy as you try to control your most primal urge to fuck me. Make me yours.
Spock stifled a little moan, too low and back in his throat for anyone else to hear, but somehow Nyota knew she was arousing him.
You want that, don't you? You want to let go and rut against me like a sehlat in heat. You want to tie my hands above my head and bite your way across my body, tasting, sucking, feeling. You want to feel my legs quiver and tense with your hands on my thighs and your face buried in my pussy, lapping away until I scream for more.
You want to make me beg and moan and plead. You want to drive me wild before you finally thrust into me and fuck me hard.
Spock shifted, his erection throbbing in his suddenly too tight regulation pants. At least he wasn't flushed-all the extra blood in his body had seemingly fled to his cock. Nyota's words were pulling at him, driving his lust to a boil.
Do it. You could. Just stand up and come over here, fuck me in front of the crew, the Captain. Fuck me good and hard, make me cum, make me scream and moan and beg for your Vulcan cock. Bend me over the station, take me in my chair, fuck me on the floor or against the wall. I don't care, just. Fuck. Me.
Spock's mind filled in all the images he needed. Nyota with her hair in disarray, panting and flushed beneath him, mouth swollen from kissing. Nyota bent over the communications consol, trying to send a status report to the ship while he plowed into her from behind, taking her hard and fast and oh so pleasurably. Nyota with her hands fisted in his hair and legs over his shoulders as he lapped at her engorged clit, determined to make her cum over and over again till the crafty linguist had no more words left.
I want you Spock, want you here, now, hard and hot. I need you to fuck me till I can't move.
Please Spock, fuck me.
With a barely contained grunt, Spock was cumming in his pants, only his Vulcan training keeping him still and silent as a sodden patch bloomed in his lap. His ears burning green, he had to sit for the remaining thirty minutes of his shift with semen pooling in his boxers while Nyota grinned to herself and tapped out a victory tune with her fingertips.
My quarters, after this shift is over…
Spock inclined his head.
I'll show you just what else these fingers can do.
And Spock was hard again.
Extra:
Chekov sat in his seat, ears burning from embarrassment. He squirmed, shifted, bounced, twiddled his fingers, until finally giving up and singing softly to himself in Russian. He'd never been happier, or more embarrassed, to know Morse code before in his entire life.