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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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."

He arched into her touch, pressing those delicious cuts and bruises against her, and she shivered against him, because there was so much pain on his face and there was blood everywhere and she had one of the most powerful men on the ship reduced to near incoherency. He pulled her closer with his good arm, and then leaned to whisper in to her ear. Hurt me. The words sent a barely repressed shudder running through her. "I will," she purred, dragging her nails down his good arm right on top of one of the cuts. She wanted to keep hurting him, but since she couldn't kill him she needed another method of releasing the building tension and pleasure inside her. One knife rose to drag along the back of his shoulder, and it was really a shame that she couldn't reach much of his back. She drew the flat of the other blade down his torso, not enough to cut but knowing it would hurt as it jarred against the other wounds. She briefly diverted the knife to slip under her skirt, carefully cutting off her own panties. Sex felt almost incidental to the pain, but she needed the stimulation. She'd already cut off his pants, so it was easy to push herself up on her knees and sink down slowly on to him, biting down hard on his neck and pressing both knives into him as she did so.

He froze as she lowered herself onto him, his breath catching in the back of his throat, and he grabbed a fistful of the fabric of her uniform, stifling another whimper as she pressed the blades into his flesh again. He bucked his hips upward to meet her, without really thinking about it, lost in a fog of pain and pleasure, the two sensations by now almost one and the same. Tilting his head back to allow her more room to bite his neck, he shifted below her, try to move so he could lay flat on the floor. It would be easier for both of them that way, and it would reduce the risk of accidentally knocking the blade in his shoulder loose.

She moaned at the initial penetration, senses on overload after spending so long cutting Scotty's flesh. His hand fisted in her uniform as his hips bucked upwards, prompting her to gasp softly and then bite down harder on his neck. She sucked at the wound for a few moments, pausing when she felt him shifting beneath her. One hand moved to grasp the knife in his shoulder, holding it in and twisting it slightly as she helped him lower himself to the floor. Once he was lying flat she reestablished the rhythm, placing the knives against his skin and letting her rocking press them in and out of his flesh so that every burst of pleasure was accompanied by pain. Her body quivered slightly as she felt need pool in her stomach, spurred on by the knowledge that she was hurting him and by the intoxicating feeling of being in control, of being in power, of knowing he was at her mercy.

He let go of her uniform to brace himself against the floor as he lay back, the movement jarring the multitude of cuts that decorated his body now. Another whimper, as Uhura twisted the knife in his shoulder, and then he was flat on his back, and she returned to using the other two knives on him. He was trembling still, every muscle tense, but he tried to match her rhythm, rocking his hips in time with hers. This was probably a bad idea, considering the amount of blood he'd lost already, but he wasn't really in any state of mind to care. Either way, when all was said and done, he'd need a few days to recover, at least. But none of that was important right now.

He kept trembling and making those little whimpering noises, and the sight and sound and feel of his battered body went straight to her core. She kept her eyes on him, taking in the tense muscles and patchwork of scars as they thrust against each other. It was impressive that he could still move in this state, and it made her want to push his limits, to test the boundaries of his strength. She was used to being the one in control of sexual encounters - rarely voluntarily participated if she wouldn't be - but how long had it been since she fucked someone while driving blades into their flesh? How long had it been since she inspired not just fear but also genuine pain? The fact that he was so clearly lost to the sensations allowed her to let go of herself, just a little, to be in control and out of control at the same time. She let out a shuddering moan, increasing her pace and pressing the knives deeper.

It was rare that he'd voluntarily let anyone this close to him; rarer still that he'd not only let her initiate sex, but that he'd even let her start cutting him up in the first place. To do so implied a level of trust that he was uncomfortable with - letting anyone past his defenses was a one-way ticket to not staying alive. But she needed him alive. He knew that she knew that she'd never get that precious knife back if she didn't keep him alive. That, and it had been far too long since he'd encountered anyone as skilled with a blade as she was.

His encounters with the Orion... she'd been too gentle, too focused on trying to make it feel good. And Elle? Like the Orion, she'd manipulated him, and both of them were too stuck on the idea that sex was about nothing but pleasure. But Uhura... He shivered as she pressed the knives in deeper, and slowly, he stopped trying to match her pace; he couldn't keep up, and he wasn't certain how much longer he could hold out.

She'd been certain that she absolutely hated Scotty, and perhaps she truly did, but that wasn't important right now. All that mattered was that the pain and pleasure continue, that she drive him inside her as she drove her blades into him. She had never expected to expose this side of him, and it wasn't lost on her that he had given her this moment, that he had intentionally dropped his defenses. It thrilled her as few things did, and she felt something like respect for his ability to embrace the pain. She understood, too, the perfection that pain could be, even if she almost never let anyone hurt her voluntarily. Besides, she preferred this way, preferred to see pain on the faces of others than to feel it herself.

These thoughts were all driven out of her head as she felt the pleasure within her start to spiral out of control. She drove both knives into his chest deep enough to scar and just held on to them as she thrust faster, moaning louder now. For a moment she teetered on the edge, clenching around him, and then with a sharp cry she tumbled over, waves of pleasure rolling through her.

He cursed, his voice low and breathy and ragged as she finished, as she dug her knives into his chest, and he followed shortly after, though not nearly as dramatically as her. Heart racing, his pulse thundering in his ears, he sank back against the floor, still tense from the pain, still unable to fully relax. He shuddered, fighting for breath, his head swimming, for the moment completely unable to move, completely and utterly at her mercy. This was the part he hated most, that drowsy feeling of contentment, but tempered with pain, it was bearable. The pain kept him alert, kept him awake. But he still couldn't move. His limbs felt heavy, and she could have driven a knife into his heart right then and there and he wouldn't have been able to stop her.

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

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