nyota_uhura24 | [BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

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[BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

Uhura was in a good mood. The memory of yesterday's assignment, of all the fear in the Debulans' eyes, was enough to make her nearly giddy. It had been far too long since she'd had the opportunity to slowly create a blinding, debilitating fear, just as her father had taught her to.

There was only one thing that could ruin her excitement. Scotty. The moment she saw him, she had to fight the urge to clench her hands into fists, or to reach for her knife. Not the knife I want... She would get it back, of course, but it would take careful planning. The fail safe was most certainly a problem. She was certain that given enough time, killing him wouldn't even be necessary, even if it was the safest course of action. But thanks to the fail safe, murder was out of the question.

Instead she monitored the times at which he entered the code, laying down preparations and waiting for a day he entered it early in the morning, and then all would be well. Soon, she promised herself. He really ought to just give the knife back, and then all this could be avoided... Though she was too angry now to let the matter go, even if he did.

To her extreme annoyance, she realized that she and Scotty were headed for the same turbolift, but there was no way in hell she was going to turn tail and run, even if the sight of him did infuriate her. "Scotty," she drawled. "How lovely it is to see you, though I must say you were far more dashing with a scar on your cheek."

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There's no way out. She cowered against the wall, hands wrapping around her knees to hold them to her chest. At his words her eyes flew open and darted around the lift. "They're getting closer," she whispered, not quite sure if she was talking to him or herself. At this point it didn't matter, as she was fairly certain he was merely a dark figment of her imagination. I can't die here. She blinked furiously, trying to hold onto the part of herself that hated too powerfully to disappear. "I can't die yet," she managed, fear and determination mixing on her face. "Not until he's dead." Her eyes locked with the man in front of her, needing to communicate her last fragmented thoughts, because this was important. Very important. "I'm going to kill him with his own knife," she whispered. "But I'll wait until the day he hands it to me, wait until I've earned the right to hold it in my hands, and then I'll drive it into the place where his heart would be, but there will only be blood. I don't even care if it's quick, as long as he sees, as long as he knows that I'm the one who killed him."

He watched her a moment longer, unblinking, filing away what she said so he'd remember it later. But this was getting boring, and he needed a way to entertain himself until the lift started working again. "Whose knife, love? Who is it that you have tae kill?" He wondered, briefly, if it was him that she was talking about, but if it was... No, that didn't make any sense, because she was talking about whoever it was handing her his knife, which he would never do. Not unless he had a death wish. "An' what makes you think he'll be there, when you get out? If you get out? You won't, you know." What would happen, he wondered, if he drew a knife on her now, while she was like this? Would she fight back? It wouldn't be any fun if she didn't fight back.

Who is it that you have tae kill? Her lip curled back in fury, respiration increasing further as a wave of anger crashed through her. "Alhamisi." The name was infused with every ounce of hatred she possessed, because while Uhura hated plenty of people, the only one who would ever earn this blinding rage was her father. "He'll be there, she whispered, "He'll..." But the next words drive the anger back as fear takes over again. She can't lose her hatred, but now all she can think of is the walls getting closer and the fact that it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She shook uncontrollably now, shifting uselessly, legs sliding back and forth and hands clenching uselessly. "No," she breathed out, and suddenly it felt as if all the air was pushed out of her lungs. Her mouth opened but she choked on the air. No

He stood suddenly, retreating to the far side of the lift, leaning back against the wall, one hand dipping to his stomach to prod at Uhura's handiwork. Watching Uhura like this was all well and good, but there was little satisfaction in it, and he was losing interest. He had no interest in her in this weakened state; he respected her as an opponent, maybe even feared her, but like this... His lip curled upward. She was weak. And Scotty played by rules of his own devising, and watching Uhura squirm, though initially satisfying, was quickly becoming mundane. Besides, he knew what he needed to know, now.

"Get up," he said flatly. "You're embarrassin' yourself."

The presence in front of her suddenly backed away, and she was able to draw a shaky breath. She hadn't thought there was room for him to do that, but she still couldn't speak, still could barely move. It wouldn't be long now until there was no space at all. The walls of the lift had vanished, replaced by the white walls of that room where she must have spent her entire life. Everything else that happened was a dream, a fantasy made up to pass the time. She was here. She had always been here. She would die here.

Get up. You're embarrassin' yourself. The words registered in her brain, and she didn't understand because it was not the voice of her demons. Her eyes searched out the voice's owner, but she couldn't remember who he was. Her legs pushed at the ground but she didn't rise. Her heart was racing too fast, her breath coming in short, almost painful bursts.

He advanced on her again, slowly, cautiously, drawing one of the knives he'd taken from her. Reaching out, he ran the flat of the blade along her jawline, trying to get some kind of reaction from her. "Lieutenant, stand up," he ordered, withdrawing the knife, tucking it back into his belt. What would it take to snap her out of this? That was as much part of his new little experiment as anything else - how long, and with what stimulus, would it take her to realize where she was and what had happened?

Her eyes tried to focus as he moved towards her, and the threat registered dimly. There was a knife, but she couldn't move to defend herself. Still, her gaze sharpened and her eyes followed the blade. She gasped as it ran along her jawline, and then her eyes locked with his as she fought for some sense of reality.

Lieutenant, stand up. She blinked, trying to comprehend, trying to make the order fit into her view of the shrinking room. She didn't speak, didn't move, but her eyes were still on his, trying to hold herself here.... I'm not in that room. That isn't that room...

He tossed the knife down beside her hand. "Pick it up." He knew that re-arming her was likely to be a bad idea, but really, he had nothing better to do, and a few more injuries wouldn't kill him. Once again, he retreated to the other side of the lift, and sank down against the wall, keeping his eyes on her. "Come an' get me, love," he taunted her quietly, part of him desperately hoping that she would. Anything to alleviate his boredom would be welcome at this point.

Her eyes followed the knife in his hands as it clattered on the floor beside her. She stared at it for a moment, heart still racing even as some semblance of reality was slowly returning. It's the wrong knife. She reached out a still shaking hand, and as her hand tightened around the handle the shaking started to subside. After another few moments she looked at him, and slowly recognition formed in her eyes. She glanced around again, beginning to realize where she was, and then looked back at him. "Scotty?"

"Who else would it be?" he answered, stretching leisurely, wincing a little as the motion tugged at his wounds. He wondered, for a moment, how much of what had just transpired that she remembered. For now, he'd keep it to himself, not letting on that he knew her secret. There was no fun in giving everything away, after all. "Come on, then, love, if you think you're tough enough." He flashed her a quick grin, stretching a little again.

She blinked at him for a few moments, hand tightening on the knife handle because she knew she ought to be on her guard, but not quite comprehending. What the hell had happened? One moment she was carving into Scotty's flesh. The next he had seized her wrists, and then... With a flash of horror she recalled the terror descending on her. She'd lost it. She'd let him see her fear. What had she said? What had she done? It doesn't matter. He knows. He has to know. And now he's taunting me about it... No one was ever supposed to know. Rage filled her, but she forced her facial muscles not to react. This moment was too important. In one swift movement she launched herself forward, staying low to the ground and drawing a second knife from her boot.

Of course she had another knife. So did he. He had the knife in his sleeve, and like her, knives in his boots, but he didn't draw any of them as Uhura launched herself at him. He caught one of her hands before the blade had a chance to connect, but he wasn't so lucky with the second. For a moment, he wasn't even aware that he'd been hit, and then... He glanced down, realized that he'd tried to move his arm, and that his arm wasn't responding - Uhura's blade had landed just shy of his shoulder. The only part of the blade visible was the hilt.

He turned his gaze back to her, locking his eyes on hers, and leaned forward, driving the blade in deeper. "Is that the best you've got?" he asked, his voice tight with pain. "I could do better in my sleep."

He caught one of her hands, but the other blade connected. A wave of pleasure ran through her as it sunk deep into his shoulder, her love of drawing blood chasing away the last of her fears. She was still too furious to even sneer. "Not even close, Scotty," she hissed, twisting the blade in his shoulder and tearing her wrist out of his grasp. The second blade was at his neck in an instant, and she held it there, staring into his eyes. "I want to kill you," she snarled, pressing the blade ever so slightly so that a few drops of red blood bubbled up. "But I'm going to have to settle for slicing you up. If you try to stop me, I might just decide that killing you is worth the consequences." Keeping a firm grip on the knife in his shoulder, she slid the other knife down his torso, slicing open the fabric of his shirt so that she had more skin to work with.

Stars exploded in his vision when she twisted the knife in his shoulder, but he didn't make a sound, apart from a quick, sharp exhale. She tore her wrist from his hand and he swallowed heavily, letting his arm drop back to his side as she pressed the second knife against his throat. His breathing heavy, he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as she sliced his shirt open, focusing on the pain radiating from his shoulder. "Be careful, love," he warned her, laughing quietly just after he spoke. "Don't want me tae end up dead."

She laughed coldly at his words. He didn't want to fight back, and that was fine with her. Right now she just wanted to cause him pain, to leave her mark in his flesh. That little sharp exhale was music to her ears, and she wanted to hear more, wanted to see more beautiful blood. She forced back thoughts of what had just transpired, furious at her humiliation and a little afraid that if she let herself get too angry she really would kill him. "Oh, but I do, Scotty." She drew a line down his chest with the knife, cutting just deep enough to draw blood. "Don't tempt me." She brought the knife to her lips, flicking her tongue over it. "If you make me too angry, my blade might slip." This time, when her blade returned to his chest, it was deep enough to scar. She carefully carved the letters into his skin. Uhura.

He could have fought back. Even with the knife in his shoulder, he could have fought back. He had knives of his own, and one hand that still worked. But he was transfixed by the pain of her blade on his flesh, drawing in a deep breath every time she made a cut. He could lose a lot of blood this way, he knew, but by this point, he didn't much care. He couldn't help it; he laughed again, his hands trembling now with adrenaline. "Is it as good for you as it is for me?" he asked her, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

He inhaled deeply every time she cut into his skin, and she let the sounds wash over, let them drive away the memories that frightened her. There were already a myriad of scars on his chest, but these would be noticeable, these would be hers. Her mark. It sent pleasure coursing through her to be hurting him like this, to be marking him like this. She laughed softly at his words. "Better," she murmured, calm now, hands completely steady. "It's really a pity about the location. If I had my tools, my drugs, my ways to keep you from dying too soon, you can't imagine the pain I could make you feel."

He hated people touching him - unless, like Uhura was doing now, there was pain involved. Pain was safe, familiar, comforting. It was something he understood, something he embraced. And right now... He groaned softly at her words, leaning his head back to rest it against the wall of the lift. "Don't tempt me, love," he murmured, opening his eyes just enough to look at her. "I might just take you up on that." It could be dangerous, true, but as long as he had her knife... As long he had incentive for her to keep him alive... He twisted slightly, leaning into the blade in his shoulder, another soft groan escaping his lips.

This was familiar territory. It didn't exactly feel like torture, because real torture should involve a lot more screaming, but just causing pain relaxed her, even as it sent shivers running down her spine. Her respiration sped up a little at his words. Her mind conjured up intoxicating images of having the proper equipment to really hurt him, of using the drugs that would keep him alive and allow him to pass the normal threshold of human pain. Just the idea of it made her stomach squirm with anticipation. "No one on the ship can hurt you the way I would," she all but cooed, momentarily holding up the knife's blade to scratch him with her sharpened fingernails. It wouldn't be as painful as the knife, but varying sensations was an important part of heightening pain. She couldn't let him get too comfortable with the blade. He was leaning into the other knife, and she twisted it a little in his flesh.

It wasn't torture, not for him. He shivered as she switched from the knife to her fingernails, choked back a small cry as she twisted the knife in his shoulder again. That arm was going to be out of commission for a while, but right now, that was the last thing on his mind. "An' here you thought I took that knife o' yours just tae fuck with you," he said, amusement tinging his words. He had taken the knife just to fuck with her. This? This was just icing on the cake. "I'll give it back - eventually." He was purposely goading her now, taunting her with one goal in mind. "But you have tae keep me alive, love. You can't let me die, not without knowin' where that trinket is."

She watched, fascinated, as he shivered under her nails and choked back a cry. The exquisite mix of pain and pleasure on his face mesmerized her a little. "This is what you wanted, Scotty?" she murmured, switching back to the knife, drawing another line of blood up his chest, slowly increasing the pressure and then circling around his nipple. "All you had to do was ask." His next words sent another little shiver of anticipation through her, even if it angered her to be reminded of the knife. "No, I can't let you die," she said, a little regret in her voice, "but I can bring you so very close to death," she whispered, dragging the knife over his nipple. She leaned closer. "Over and over again," she murmured, sinking her teeth into the skin between neck and shoulder hard enough to draw blood. For a few moments she worried the raw flesh with her teeth and then swiped her tongue over it. She leaned back to look at him, slowly licking the blood off her lips.

He swallowed heavily again as she switched back to the knife, taking a long, shuddering breath, letting it out in another soft groan. She whispered to him that she could bring him close to death, and he smiled, the corner of his mouth curling upward as he replied, "You tease." And then she was leaning in closer, and for a split second, he wasn't sure if he should stay where he was or try and slip away - and then she sank her teeth into him, and he tensed beneath her, his breath catching in the back of his throat. "Fuck, love..." His voice shook as he spoke. "Fuck..."

The shuddered breaths and soft groans were making her tingle all the way to her fingertips, though her hands were rock steady. He made such exquisite noises, so at odds with the sounds she usually drew forth with her knife. She was used to moans of pain, but his groans were tinged with pleasure. He wanted this, and even though she didn't really care what he wanted, it made this all the more thrilling. She laughed when he called her a tease for promising to bring him close to death. "Of course."

When she bit him, he tensed and then cursed, voice shaking. She had to repress a shudder at the sound of it. "This is just the beginning," she murmured, letting the knife drag up to the juncture between neck and shoulder, cutting just hard enough to keep drawing blood. As she sliced along the other arm, cutting that part of his uniform as she did so, she tilted her head, leaning to lick across his chest, tongue catching on the drying blood. When she came to the newest cut, she bit down hard.

By this point, he hardly felt the knife anymore. Too much stimulation, and his pain receptors were beginning to overload. His torso was quickly going numb, and it was something of a relief when she moved on to another part of his body. By now, he knew, his brain would be pumping out mass amounts of serotonin to cope with the pain, and he was drifting into a fog of near-euphoria, and he wanted more. He didn't bother trying to keep himself quiet as Uhura bit him again, didn't bother trying to stop the way his hands were shaking.

And although he generally shied away from sex, preferring to keep to himself... there was denying that he was incredibly turned on by this. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted it to actually get that far.... But at the same time, he wasn't sure he'd protest if it did.

She carefully watched his expression, knowing that he was drifting into a state of euphoria. It really was a pity that she didn't have the necessary drugs and equipment to drag this out longer, to hurt him more. But there was still plenty she could do here. The knife continued to explore his other arm as she bit into him. His reaction sent pleasure thrumming through her. God she had missed this. How long had it been since she had slowly covered someone's flesh with the lines of her knives? And the way he reacted was simply perfect. She needed him hurting, but she couldn't deny her response to the notes of pleasure. "I knew you really liked my decorations," she whispered, pressing her tongue into his cut. She wasn't sure how far she wanted to take this, but she didn't want to stop. It felt too good. She carefully released her hold on the knife in his arm. "Don't move," she purred. "Wouldn't want you to bleed out." She guided the other knife to his thigh, slicing through the fabric and scratching the skin beneath.

Edited 2010-10-02 10:24 (UTC)

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