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 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.

For a moment she remained arched against him, body riding out the aftershocks of her climax. Then she relaxed slowly, taking a few moments to catch her breath and look down at him lying beneath her. He was clearly immobilized by the pain and the aftereffects of his own release, and she felt a little thrill as she realized that she had complete power over him at this moment. Her fingers caressed the handles of the knives still pressed into his chest, and a part of her was momentarily tempted to drive them the rest of the way in, but there was too much at stake. Besides, Scotty was... interesting. More so than she'd originally thought. She pulled out the blades and wiped them against her skirt before slipping them back into her belt, knowing she'd need to properly clean them later. Then she slowly pulled herself off of him and sat against the wall. "Well, it seems you do know how to shut up."

As she moved away from him, taking the knives with her, he relaxed slightly, but even now there was no way he was going to be able to relax completely. Not that he minded; what had just transpired was well worth having to deal with the aftereffects. For a long moment, he simply lay there, even after she spoke. Eventually, his breathing slowed, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, before turning his head to look at her, his expression still tight with pain. But there was something else in his expression as well. A measure of respect, maybe. The corner of his mouth twitched, as though he found her statement amusing. "Only for you, love."

They say in silence for a few moments after she spoke, and she found it hard to be anything but content. Her body was still humming with the aftereffects of her release, and buzzing with the adrenalin of having caused so much hurt. It relaxed her as few things did. Her eyes wandered over his form, covered in the marks of her blade and teeth and nails; the sight brought another swell of satisfaction.

When he finally looked over at her, she noted with pleasure the strain on his face, and something like acknowledgment or perhaps respect. She'd deny to her dying breath that the later made her feel oddly proud, though of course it was hard not to feel proud of having brought such a powerful man to this state. She laughed softly at his words. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones I like," he replied, with a short, quiet laugh. He turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, his eyes drifting shut again. The pain wasn't doing as good a job at keeping him alert as he'd thought, and it was getting harder to keep from drifting off. He lifted his hand again to trail his fingers down his chest, tracing the wounds, wincing a little each time he encountered one of the deeper ones. He didn't want to drift off, didn't want to leave himself more vulnerable than he already was.

"Oh, so you like me, Scotty?" she replied, a little amused by the idea of Scotty liking anyone. She shook her head. "I knew you took the knife to get my attention." She leaned her head against the wall, feeling utterly at ease. Their encounter had driven all the fear from her mind, and he was in no state to be a threat to her. Glancing back at him, she realized that he was actually in danger of drifting into unconsciousness. "Scotty," she said, a note of warning in her voice. "If you pass out, I won't be held responsible for what happens to you." She didn't want him dead, but let him think there was a serious threat there. Perhaps there was.

Edited 2010-10-04 04:17 (UTC)

"Don't you worry about me, love," he murmured, his voice distant and tired. The world was beginning to lose focus, the emergency light overhead blurring in his vision. He closed his eyes, running his hand down his chest again, but he slowed and stopped halfway down. If he passed out... He laughed quietly, turning his head to the side again to look at her. "You can't let me die," he reminded her, shaking a finger in her direction. "You... you need me alive, love." He felt dizzy, and cold, and he shivered, laughing again. "I have somethin' you want, love, an' you can't get it back if I'm dead." Another laugh, and he dropped his hand back down onto his chest, shaking his head at her. "I've got somethin' you want," he repeated, his voice trailing off into little more than a whisper. His eyes drifted shut, and it was a long moment before he forced himself to open them again.

He taunted her, reminding her again that she couldn't let him die, that she'd never get the knife if she did. Her eyes narrowed. "Your delirious ramblings are not at all cute," she informed him. "And if you pass out, I might not be able to keep you alive. You've lost a lot of blood." Damn him, she thought, feeling a little swell of irritation because he did have power over her. He had the knife, the fail safe, and the knowledge of her claustrophobia. Even though he wasn't taunting her about her fear, there was certainly a chance he would use it against her at some point... Her eyes glanced around the lift, but it didn't feel as if the walls were closing in around her. Not yet, anyway, but if they didn't start moving soon... Her thoughts were interrupted when the lights came back on, and she heard the sound of the lift powering up. Resisting the urge to breathe a sigh of relief, she smirked at him. "Looks like we're getting out of here after all. You might want to do something about your appearance." This suggestion amused her, as she was the one who had cut him and his clothes to ribbons in the first place.

He winced when the lights came back on, raising his hand to shield his eyes. It took a moment for what Uhura said to register, and he sat up slowly, wincing again, actually look down at himself. He was an absolute mess, covered in blood, his clothes shredded... With a groan, he pushed himself up, stumbled a bit, and fell back against the wall with a soft curse. Damn. Damn damn damn. His hands trembling, he slowly unsheathed the knife in his sleeve, and cut the fabric around the knife in his shoulder, before slipping out of what remained of his shirt. He tied it around his waist, then leaned back against the wall again. "Might want tae..." He trailed off, gestured aimlessly. "Y'know. Medical. Make sure I get there."

She watched him push himself to his feet and tie the remains of his shirt around his waist. He really was in terrible shape, and she looked him over with satisfaction, actually licking her still bloody lips. She was covered in his blood, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. The turbolift floor was covered in blood and scraps of his uniform, but she frowned when she saw something else there. She leaned over and picked up the remains of her panties. "I liked these," she said, frowning and tucking them into her uniform top. Then her eyes returned to Scotty. "Well, I do need that back," she replied, nodding at the knife in his shoulder. As the doors finally opened to the narrow but long corridor, relief flooded her at no longer being trapped, no longer being in such a small space. "I'm not waiting for you to crawl there," she said. "Lean on me."

"I can walk," he replied, pushing himself away from the wall. He was still dizzy, and with his shirt now around his waist, even colder, but he managed to make it out of the lift without any problems. Once out of the lift, he swayed a bit, stumbled, and caught himself on the wall, pausing as his vision blurred again. Still, he refused to be seen being all but carried to medical. He took a deep breath, and straightened, and began walking again, staying close to the wall, just in case. Now that they were out in the open again, he resolutely ignored Uhura, as if the two of them had just happened to be in the same lift, and never mind that her name was carved in his chest.

She rolled her eyes when he said he could walk on his own, though she wasn't particularly surprised. Still, she kept half an eye on him as they moved down the corridor, making sure he didn't collapse. A fall could jar loose the knife in his shoulder. With his shirt off, she could really admire her handiwork, especially the letters carved into his chest deep enough to scar. "Don't use a dermal re-generator on the scars," she instructed in a low, soft voice. "Or I'll just have to replace them." As they walked, she made sure to glower at anyone in their path. Most people scurried out of their path. A few ensigns even tripped over their own feet trying to get out their way.

"I'm just goin' tae have 'em take care of--" He cut himself off as he swayed again, pausing once more to wait for another wave of dizziness to pass. "Take care o' my shoulder," he finished, as he started walking again. "An' maybe a transfusion or two." Walking, at least, helped him stay a little more alert; he was still dizzy, and his vision was going a bit gray around the edges, but he wasn't quite so delirious anymore. He noted the other crew members more or less scattering, and in spite of himself, he grinned. What did they make of this, he wondered. Him, bloody, and Uhura, covered in his blood, but walking with him and not attacking him. It was sure to spark a few rumors. "Maybe some o' the smaller cuts, too," he added, as an afterthought.

She couldn't keep the wide grin off her face when he confirmed that he wasn't going to treat the scars. Uhura and the Enterprise would remain on his skin. "Very good," she answered absently, watching the confused and terrified looks on the face of the crew. People were definitely going to be talking about this.

Finally they reached sickbay, and Chapel knew better than to ask questions as she treated his shoulder with Uhura standing nearby, looking amused. When the knife was free, she snatched it out of the other woman's hands. "Thanks for returning this... You can hold on to the other one for now, but I will have it back." With that she spun on her heel and marched out of sickbay without a backwards glance, still slowly licking at the bloodstains on her lips.

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

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