spock: logic is sexy

Fic: Hips Don't Lie (Spock/Uhura - adult)

Title: Hips Don't Lie
Author: igrockpsock
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: pure, unadulterated porn
Summary: Uhura is a tease. Spock makes her pay.

Nyota's third beer is a pleasant buzz in the back of her head and a lightness that extends all the way down to her toes. The nail file whooshes rhythmically over her fingernails, but she can barely hear it over her music, a mix of dance songs from every continent on earth. She swings her head to the beat. Her loose hair whispers over her bare shoulders and her earrings jingle in her ears with every movement. Filing done, she plucks a jar of bright red nail polish from a drawer, swiveling her hips a little in her desk chair. Every inch of her skin feels awake and alive, and her whole body is moving to the music now.

Alcohol and music and nail polish are a dangerous combination though, so she isn't really surprised when she paints a vermilion streak across her thumb. "Shit," she mutters and looks up from her desk for the first time in an hour. This is when she realizes she's not alone. Spock is settled in a chair on the opposite side of the room, looking like he might have been there for the whole hour. Even two weeks ago, she would have been horrified to let him catch her in such an unguarded moment; today, though, she embraces the unexpected consequences of giving her boyfriend the access code to her quarters.

All she's wearing is an old tank top and a tight pair of dance shorts, but she knows she looks good. Making sure her breasts are silhouetted in the lamplight, she leans over her desk to nudge up the volume and dances across the room toward him, stopping a foot or two from his chair. Spock makes no change except to quirk an eyebrow, and she repeats the gesture with what she hopes are smoldering eyes. But alcohol is seriously detrimental to her smoldering skills, and her face dissolves into a grin almost as soon as she lifts her eyebrow.

This is so different from the seduction scenes she imagined in her girlhood, which were all candle light and longing stares. Tonight, she couldn't care less about being sexy, and she gives her hips an unsteady shake to prove it, not minding an iota that she's off the beat. Then an Middle Eastern song comes on, all bells and rapid drum beats, and even though it's been years since her last belly dance class, she begins to dip her hips up and down, her ass tracing the shape of a figure eight in the air.

Spock watches her like a marble statue. His hands rest lightly on his thighs. His body is still, but his eyes are alight with the same voracious curiosity she sees when he's conducting a scientific investigation. The music is getting faster now, and she pivots in a slow circle to let him appreciate her from every angle, stopping when she is standing in profile to him. She watches him from the corners of her eyes, hips still swiveling. Usually, when he is focused, his whole body is tense and alert, but now, she discerns a faint looseness than begins in the muscles of his cheeks and spreads across his shoulders and down to his chest. He looks...open. Receptive. Waiting.

She turns to face him again, a mischievous smile lifting the corners of her lips. Waiting is a good idea, she decides. She is going to make him wait. Her eyes lock on his just long enough to hint what's to come, then flick away again. One dancing step carries her toward him, the next back. She always stays just beyond his arms' reach, and she never stops moving her hips. A misstep carries her directly in front of the lamplight, and her image is projected on the opposite wall, larger than life, and flickering over his face and body. In the darkness of her shadow, she sees his jaw tighten slightly and his hands clench briefly against his thighs. One step and she's standing in profile again, her small, high breasts silhouetted on the wall. Keeping time with her heel, she raises her arms in an arc above her head, then begins to bend backward slowly. Her hands drift toward her waist, and without quite realizing what she's doing, she slides them under the hem of her shirt. Every beat, she bends her back a little lower and raises her shirt a little higher. She feels Spock's gaze burning her whole body, leaving wetness and heat between her thighs. The drumbeats have slowed now, so much that it takes all her self-control to follow them. Goosebumps creep along the exposed flesh of her stomach. Her abs scream in protest. She refuses to stop bending in time with the music because she knows how avidly he is watching. He will lose control; she will drive him to it. When her hair final brushes the floor, she whisks her shirt off. The air is cool and her nipples harden instantly. She rises slowly, and suddenly Spock is there, standing so close she can feel the heat rising from his body.

Her world narrows to his eyes. They are deep wells now, hungry to drink in every inch of her half naked flesh. He says nothing, only steps forward until her back is pressed against the wall. They stand just close enough that she feels his uniform shirt brush against her hardened nipples each time she inhales. He takes one more step, pushing her harder against the wall. One of his pale fingers trails along her collarbone, brushing aside her hair. Her nipples are begging to be touched, so she leans forward to press them harder against his chest. He ignores her to stroke the nape of her neck, and she realizes that he is doing the same thing she did to him -- teasing her, making her wait.

He kisses her slowly and deeply, his long fingers splayed lightly across her hips. She kisses him back hard, pressing herself against his erection, but he does not change the pace of their kiss or even the pressure of his hands on her hips. When he steps back for a second and pulls his uniform shirt over his head in one fluid motion, she thinks she has him. Her fingers dart forward to his fly, but he encircles each of her wrists with one of her hands and presses them back to the wall tightly enough to be a turn-on but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Looking straight into her eyes (and not at all at the rest of her half-naked body), he slowly sweeps her arms over her head until he can pin both wrists with one hand.

"You are a tease," he whispers in her ear. His breath on her neck sends shivers down her spine.

"Yes," she whispers back, pride barely stopping her from finishing her answer: and I know I've been a bad, bad girl, so please punish me already.

The fingertips of his free hand slide over her ribs with agonizing slowness, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

"It is most unwise to play games of self-control with a Vulcan."

"Yes," she whispers again, and he rewards her by hooking a single finger around the waistband of her shorts and panties, dragging them slowly down together. When they reach her knees, he can pull no farther without releasing her wrists, and she thinks she is finally victorious. Instead, he simply leaves them there and languidly traces the curve of her ass with a few splayed fingers. The cool air teases her newly exposed wetness, and she swears she can feel the heat of his erection radiating against her clit.

His eyes flick up and down her body, and his grip tightens around her wrists. A tiny moan escapes the back of her throat. She wants to close her eyes and let her imagination run loose, but instead, she stares straight into his.

"Take off your shorts, Nyota," he whispers, and she obliges even though it's difficult. As she shifts and shimmies so till her shorts hit the ground, he tightens his grip a little more and she hears the hitch in his breathing that means he's beginning to lose control. Free of her shorts now, she closes her eyes and tilts her head up to display her neck and spreads her legs just a little wider. She wants him to see everything.

Even with her own eyes closed, she can feel his eyes on her body. He breathes in deeply, and she knows he can smell her sex. Suddenly, the grip on her wrists vanishes. She realizes that the music is gone now, and there is only one sound in the silence of her quarters: Spock, undoing his own zipper. Then his hands close around her waist as he lifts her into the air, and she wraps her legs around his hips and waits for the pounding thrusts she's wanted ever since the first time he kissed her. And then his cock is inside her, fast and urgent and she squeezes herself around him and bites his ear lobe and whispers, "hard, please" into his ear, and he is sliding out again...and then he stops. The thrusts slow, and he pushes himself just far enough into her that she feels the head of his cock pop around the edge of her opening before he pulls back again. She gasps in his ear every time he slips in and out because it feels so good but she digs her fingernails into his back too because it's just not enough and she wants him deep inside her so bad. She swears his soft exhalations in her ear sound just like laughter.

The next time the head of his cock pops over the edge of her cunt, she drives her hips down hard before he can pull back. His gasp against her neck means she's caught him by surprise, and she presses her advantage by jerking her hips up and down again as fast as she can. He responds with a few rough, uneven thrusts of his own, and then they are sliding down to the floor together. When he is inside her again, she knows she has him where she wants him. With each thrust, she closes her thighs a little more, squeezes her cunt a little tighter, until he can barely thrust inside her at all. Now his face is flushed green, his chest glinting with the sheen of his sweat, and every muscle in his face is tensed against the loss of control.

"Nyota." His whisper is rough, almost a grunt. She can feel the next word hanging in the air: please. But she does not open her thighs, forcing him to settle for more shallow, unsatisfying thrusts.

When she looks ready to break, she sits up slowly and whispers in his ear, "you are a tease."

"Yes," he whispers back, the tip of his cock still quivering inside of her. His hands clench around her hips, fingertips digging in hard enough to leave a bruise, and then he thrusts so hard that she has no choice but to open her thighs. Now he is ramming inside her, fast and hard and hot as she has ever wanted, his face contorted and his fingers still digging deep into her hips. She has just a moment to savor the feeling of her pelvis bucking off the floor, his cock filling her up so hard it aches a little, before they finally surrender to what she has wanted for so long: both of them, coming together, his cries as loud as hers.
*jaw drop*

I can't express how much I wanted a S/U fic even roughly related to "Hips Don't Lie"! Omg I love this fic so much.
*Fans self* Wow, hot, and beautifully written too.

"It is most unwise to play games of self-control with a Vulcan."

LOL - best line ever! :)

"Yes," she whispers back, pride barely stopping her from finishing her answer: and I know I've been a bad, bad girl, so please punish me already.!

That killed me dead.
She swears his soft exhalations in her ear sound just like laughter.

YES! That was perfect.
That was crazy hot! I always get the feeling that these two are way kinkier than they let on in public. With control issues like they both have, it'd be hard not to be...
-o-;;;.... *ahem*

WOW. That was... That was hot. Like, holy cow. Hoooooly cow.

I'm gonna... go now... Excuse me.

*runs off to find a Spock for herself*