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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"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)

He wanted to sink back against the wall and relax, to let the pain wash over him, but it didn't stop. Every time he thought she'd let him have a break, she found somewhere else to cut, somewhere else to bite. Every muscle in his body tense, he watched her through half-lidded eyes, his breathing heavy and ragged. And when she released her grip on the knife in his shoulder, he was careful not to move in any way that might dislodge it, but not moving at all wasn't an option - especially not when she moved down to his thigh. He actually jolted a little, his breath catching in his throat again; it was just a little too close to other parts of his anatomy that he'd very much like to keep intact. But for the moment, she seemed content to simply drag the knife along his leg, and he relaxed slightly, still watching her. After a moment of consideration, he drew the other knife he'd taken from her from his belt, and held it out to her, freely offering it to her to take back.

He was completely tense beneath her ministrations, his breathing heavy, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Her own breaths were coming rapidly, heart racing a little. She wondered how long he could endure her blade without taking a break. She was making sure he wouldn't lose too much blood, making sure he stayed conscious, but most people wouldn't be able to handle something like this. Of course, Scotty wasn't most people. She'd always known that.

When she moved to his thigh he jolted slightly, and she let out a soft laugh. She had no plans to do any permanent damage, scars aside, especially not to part of his anatomy that she was beginning to take an interest in. He kept his eyes on her, and she looked straight back at him as she cut along his thigh by feel alone. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise when he actually offered the knife back to her. She took it immediately, amazed by the effect this was having on him. "I knew you could be reasonable," she said softly, and then dragged a knife along each thigh, shredding the uniform. After a few moments she pulled both knives away from his skin, pausing just a moment to gauge his reaction.

He'd returned the other knife to her solely because he'd hoped that she'd do exactly as she'd just done - use both of them on him at once. His breath hitched as she slid the blades along his thighs, but he didn't take his eyes off her. "Reasonable?" he repeated, swallowing lightly. "Selfish, more like." She paused, pulling the knives away, and he tried to relax, but his muscles didn't seem to want to cooperate. He shifted a little, still careful of the knife in his shoulder, and tried to steady his breathing. "You're damn good with a blade, love."

A short laugh, and he took a slow, deep breath, willing himself to stop shaking. Slowly, he began to relax, but he found that it was impossible to fully relax, not knowing when she might decide to cut him again. "Surely you're not stoppin' now, love," he said, grinning slightly at her. "Just when it's gettin' fun."

His attention was focused solely on her, eyes following every move. She felt a thrill of power at being so in control of this moment, even if he was letting her have that control. He was so responsive to every touch of her knives and teeth. The hitch in his breath sent a little shudder through her. When he told her he was being selfish, she raised an amused eyebrow, and grinned when he said she was good with a blade. "Why thank you, Scotty," she replied, voice silken. "It's nice to know my work is appreciated."

He couldn't quite relax even though she'd stopped cutting, and she watched in approving interest as he tried to quell his shaking and relax his muscles. The words confirmed how much he wanted her to continue, and she grinned. If he had wanted her to stop, she probably wouldn't have, but she derived a certain type of pleasure from knowing he wanted her knife against him. "No, I'm not stopping," she murmured, and her teeth sunk into his other shoulder at the same time that both blades sliced into the same leg.

He didn't scream when she cut him and bit him simultaneously. Not exactly. It was more a choked, strangled cry of both pleasure and pain, and he tensed again, his body protesting this treatment, even though he definitely wanted her to continue. He wasn't sure how much more abuse his body could take without a proper rest to recover a bit, but he didn't want her to stop. Trembling, he sank back against the wall, his good hand balled into a fist so tight his nails dug into his palm, his breathing heavy, rapid, and ragged again.

"Don't stop," he whispered, his voice low and rough, as though she hadn't assured him just moments before that she wasn't stopping. He could take it. He'd been through worse. "Don't. Stop."

The choked cry that escaped his lips when her teeth and blades sunk into him made her stomach clench and squirm with pleasure. She seared the sound into her memory, never wanting to forget it. Her attention was completely fixed on the way he trembled, his good hand balled into a fist, the heavy sound of his breathing. Her claustrophobia was completely forgotten, her entire being focused on the pain she was causing him.

His voice when he begged her not to stop made her mind go momentarily hazy with pleasure, and her body's reaction was now impossible to ignore. She wanted to touch herself, or for him to touch her, but it was more important for both of them that she not stop. "I won't," she promised again, biting down on his collarbone as she dragged both blades up the other leg. She pulled back slightly, licking at the blood on her mouth, so that she could concentrate on using the knives to divest him of his pants. The blades were dangerously close to his groin, but she moved them deftly, carefully, making sure to vary the depths and cutting style, making sure to keep giving him precious pain.

His uniform was going to be in tatters by the time she was finished with it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had other uniforms. What happened to this one was unimportant. He lapsed back into silence, making no sounds apart from the sound of his breathing and the occasional soft whimper as her blades slid through his skin. But there was such thing as too much of a good thing, and he was nearing a point that he'd have to beg her to stop, and he wasn't entirely certain that she'd listen. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted her to stop, either, and never mind that by now it hurt so much it was getting difficult to breathe.

He wasn't sure he could even speak, by this point. He swallowed, licked his lips, opened his mouth, but no sound came out, apart from another soft whimper. His body was on fire, the multitude of cuts stinging and burning when he moved, though it dulled when he sat perfectly still. He tried again to speak, and couldn't, and finally he stopped trying.

She had long since stopped thinking about anything other than how perfect it felt to see him covered in blood and the tattered remains of his uniform. Her teeth marks were scattered among the melee, and her face and arms were covered with his blood. The best thing of all was hearing those soft whimpers, seeing the struggle for respiration. She wasn't sure how much more he could take, and she pressed her blades against him more shallowly, just enough to break skin. She wouldn't be able to stand it if he passed out now. Finally seeing him lose the ability to speak sent a victorious shudder through her, and she leaned to tear at his ear with her teeth and then murmur against it. "Speechless, are we?" The movement brought her almost on top of him, and she gave in to the urge to press her body roughly against his, wanting to contact as many wounds as she could simultaneously. The feel of his torn body against her prompted a soft moan.

He inhaled sharply as she pressed her body against his, and without really even having to think about it, he arched into her, shivering at the contact. There wasn't much room left in his head for coherent thought; now, he was simply reacting, acting on instinct alone. He wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes closed, he leaned in, mouth against her ear as he pulled himself together just enough to whisper, "Hurt me."

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