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trek: team
ninety6tears

Star Trek XI fic: Vulcans Don't Play Basketball (Prologue)

Eh, so I wrote this thing for st_xi_kink. It's not super porny, but it's not my usual gig either.

Title: Vulcans Don't Play Basketball
(prologue)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Uhura, later on somewhat Spock/Kirk/Uhura
Rating: R
Spoilers: Yeah.
Disclaimer: Don't own this stuff; $$=no.
Warnings?: Dubcon (drunkenness on both sides)
Summary: Expanded-on response to this prompt.




Why it was absolutely necessary to stop at his cabin—for what, a drink of water?—on his way being a good captain and a good not-quite-friend by escorting a pretty out-sorted Uhura to her quarters, he will never have a good explanation for. But it happened: With a decidedly innocent guiding grasp around her waist, he was muttering, “You mind if I ask if you’ve ever been this drunk before?” as they swiveled through the door, Kirk resting her shoulder to the wall and intending to head straight across the room for a glass. The question was practically giving her the benefit of the doubt, but he did not, would not analyze the fact that he'd never seen her half this gone on a couple shots of the hard stuff, that it apparently seemed to be mostly the heartbreak talking.

“I’m not that—” Uhura protested, and with lifted eyebrows that seemed a badly calculated imitation of a certain Vulcan of mutual acquaintance, she pointedly demonstrated a few steps of walking in a perfectly straight line, getting the foot placement just fine and commendably but still, those heels are high. He caught her with an annoyed grunt (God, why, why did he invite her in?) as she stumbled forward, like it was practically on purpose. She laughed at his troubled expression and he couldn’t even begin to pinpoint how far from an actual real laugh it was. Like somebody trying to tell a fucking joke while falling off a cliff.

He set her straight and standing, but she was refusing to use her legs, just noodling up against him a little too closely, and he managed to steady her farther against the wall and hadn’t really planned where to go after that.

“Uh. Drunk.” She finished her sentence with the usual decisive grace of sibilance, the voice echoing sort of wrongly in the cabin.

He rolled his eyes, trying to disentangle himself, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the proximity she was allowing him. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Lieutenant...”

A raspy giggle came up from her glazed expression, and before he knew what was happening, one of her hands traveled down his chest, teased around his abdomen, and then lowered...

“Hh—hey, you know what? Let’s, uh, let’s not—”

“Let’s not what?” Nyota demanded gruffly. “Really, James T. Kirk says no? Guess it’s all about the chase, huh?”

It was Jim’s turn to utter a slightly frantic laugh, reaching down to pull her hand out of the inch it had made down his waist band. “Believe it or not,” he said, a throaty catch of something evident in his voice, “I don’t sleep with drunk girls. Especially those who’ve explicitly expressed varying degrees of hatred for me when sober...”

“Oh, look at this. Watch out, captain, you might get caught acting like a gentleman for once...” Funny how her words were so precise now, so enunciated. Her hands moved up his chest until he grabbed her wrists, his eyes widening with the various kinds of discomfort she was provoking in different parts of him, one of those parts being in an electrifying proximity to her hips guiding more and more lazily against his.

When that comment really got to him, though, he was just done, and his expression was a lot less easy on her. Grim and quizzical, measuring.

“How do you say ‘rebound’ in Vulcan?”

Her eyes got a little catty. She brought her face closer to him, edged her cheek in next to his. She whispered, “Vulcans don’t play basketball” in a way that made Kirk notice she smelled pretty damn good for a long enough half-moment for her to pull her lips down his jaw, gently bite at his chin, a giggle running dark and silent up her chest.

Jim thought, Fuck.

“You know this isn’t about chivalry,” he said, becoming pointedly motionless, “The only thing I’m worried about is my goddamn first officer discovering that I slept with his...ex-girlfriend, in the first twenty-four hours of—”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be your ‘goddamn first officer’s’ business, especially if he’s nothing more than your ‘goddamn first officer’...” Down below, she was kicking off her heels, settling her feet down; the leveling motion made her body automatically drag a soft inch or so against his. He was praying to god he wouldn’t get any harder.

On top of his stammering self-control, Kirk was growing slightly appalled by Uhura’s behavior. This was like a relatively unimaginative fantasy he should be having in the safety of his inner perversions, where there aren’t taxing concerns of the kind he absolutely sucks at dealing with, such as the absolutely nightmarish possibility of his Vulcan friend finding out about something like this and actually not being able to dislocate his jaw for it like any human being would irrationally but somewhat justifiably do. And not to mention the hovering possibility of the Enterprise’s communications officer being an apparent emotional wreck.

“You really are pretty fucked up over this, aren’t you?” he mumbled. His and Uhura’s faces were still too close, poised in a rough nuzzle. He was beginning to realize he felt too sorry for her to move away completely; he couldn't kick her to the curb, even if he was being played that way, he didn't care. And immediately that thought rubbed him very wrong: “What the hell’s wrong with you anyway? There is no way you really want to fuck me.”

He shouldn’t have said that. She looked directly into his eyes and he got a glance of the sharp, reckless gloom hiding in hers before her lips brushed into his with a kind of (no-maybe-we’re-not-really-I-can-pretend-we’re-not) gentle pressure that was surpassed within a second, her mouth pushing and now opening slowly and not that he was taking notes here, but: salty-bittersweet, not a fake perfumey sweet, nice. And now her arms were wrapping around and pulling him in closer, and the small amount of alcohol he’d had at the rec party was just enough to make his mind turn on all the wrong lights as she tasted his tongue, everything warm and soft as the rest of her body started to melt into him a little. Now he was pushing into her hips, enjoying just one smooth groove of her lower waist with his hand, just that. He broke off from the kiss, letting his lips stay just against hers, and said, both softly and defiantly, “Dammit, Uhura, you’re one of the nicest women I know. You’re better than crawling into bed with me just because you’re hoping he’ll find out...”

Her eyes clicked down to the side just a moment before ignoring him, planting another kiss at his jaw and following her woozy fancy down his neck. Down below, she’d managed to get her legs tangled around his, just dangerously enough. The suddenly more tangible pleasure was jolting; Jim let out a mix of a deep sigh and nervous laugh, let it sink for a second, then his hands were reaching up solidly and pushing her back by the shoulders and holding her in a detached grasp that was the sternest “no” he’d managed since they came into the room.

For a good moment they just stared different kinds of daggers at each other, Uhura’s eyes slowly narrowing. “You think he’s capable of something like jealousy?” she asked, her voice hanging off like a tired limb. “Really?”

“I don’t know,” Jim shook his head earnestly. “Maybe, maybe not. But there’s another person in the equation, and there it gets a little more complicated than just jealousy, if you really want to get into that.”

“Hmm.” She squinted at him a little coldly. He tried to figure out what she must be thinking, and she took the moment to begin a slow working up the inside of his leg with her own, “You know, when you work in my field and you spend enough time monitoring the tones and patterns of different languages, you get to a point where you recognize the tiniest inflection in people’s voices, regardless of language, when they are talking about something that’s a little...close to home? When somebody is saying a word that can never be just a word...”

“Get your leg off me, and get to the point—”

“You could say ‘jealousy’ ten different ways.”

In the sudden directness of him bearing angrily into her space, he forgot not to touch her. His face was a steely, barely composed emotion. He just said with a quiet, angry tremor, "You think I'm happy about this?" Daring her to answer.

She looked back at him with a similar sense of grim resolution; the only thing she did was wield him back up to her with a blunt grasp at his hips.

"You think I'm..." For half a second, nothing happened except a hackling, barely perceptible change in Jim. Then he pulled back, bluntly pulling Uhura along with a careless rough tug at her wrist; he didn’t know if he cared anymore if she fell over. He left her teetering close to the bed and started leaning down to remove his shoes. “Take off your clothes, and shut up.”

She only stood there for the next few seconds, her features curling out in surprise. The hesitation irritated him, so he knocked her with a couple light pushes back onto the bed; she landed on her back with her legs hanging off while he quickly removed his shirt and jersey. She finally obediently propped herself up to remove her own top and then reached under to unzip her skirt, which he mechanically then helped her slip off. Her bare legs curled up in that womanly reflex of coyness, but he immediately undid it, propping them open and getting on top of her.

They nudged and backed up farther until they were situated semi-comfortably on the small bed; Uhura’s breaths were speeding up with a slightly frantic color, and she beat Jim to undoing and footing down his pants as if she couldn’t handle a moment that wasn’t mindlessly bent on getting further, couldn’t handle any actual thoughts. With a hint of a sneer Jim worked his hand down her hip, trailing a smooth caress down her backside; and then around, expertly moving his wrist and palm to tease at the bareness before he hooked her panties down with his hand’s pursuit of the long line of smooth legs. As he poised them back to opening around him, he felt them tremoring like grass stems. Her motions became more coiled with eagerness as she roamed Jim back up to meet her below the hips. His elbows landed in a baiting position on either side of her with his body which, considering that it was on top of her, was considerably detached...

“Take the bra off,” he demanded impatiently. It was the only article left between them, so it might as well go, he was thinking with a grim abandon. The expression on her face was nearly unreadable, faintly shy.

He sighed, “Computer, dim lights.” And then everything felt just a tiny bit slower as she poised herself up and let his hands roam with hungry ease to free the last of her skin from something milky-soft like something-percent polyester, and what the fuck, Jim, you aren’t thinking about percentages right now—

“Jim,” Uhura croaked, wriggling up and wrapping her limbs around him, “Come on—”

Everything was coming together in a groggy slow ascent, but now he felt her hands urging over his back, soft feet and thighs moving up his legs, and he kind of hated her saying his name like that. Or at all. In the same snagging urge to just make her stop talking that he’d had a moment ago, he scooped and pressed his hand high up on the back of her neck, nestled his mouth a landing base at the darkened stretch of collarbone, and then pushed.

As it started, as her immediate gasps pitched into a slight whine all too close to his own ears, he completely lost any of the sense of control he’d been exacting just before. He’d after all completely failed to take into account that it was going to feel pretty fucking good no matter what he did. He let out one consternated syllable followed by a rather lavishing series of helpless groans as his torso rocked the curve of his hips into her with what he knew would be a pretty bland lack of technique if that actually mattered at all right now.

Below him she was similarly cracking apart; the urging in her hoarse gasps sounded like something pulling, scraping out of her. Like something underused, and no, but yes: he had to wonder if she hadn’t done this in a long time, or at least not like this.

Kicked headfirst into that curiosity, he arched himself clean into a different groove of proximity; pulling up one knee higher till the warmth of an ankle was running its touch along him with new wanting, he didn’t know why but he landed his mouth on hers to taste, gently, while he went suddenly deeper. With the fuller, blunter motions she reacted with a tensing grip where her hands held his side and at his shoulder, but she opened her mouth to him with a warm moan crackling into his. It was feeling pretty damn nice by now, and a feeling of vertigo lunged into Jim’s stomach that quite vividly reminded him of why this was a terrible idea. A heat was bending him charred out to the edge of a thing he’d never allowed a second thought of because maybe he needed something to pat himself on the back for, a token of integrity, but no. He wasn’t bludgeoned over enough with his body telling him fuck integrity not to be realizing, with blunt gollying wonder, I really am a piece of shit.

When she got closer, she was brash and greedy, pulling her knees up around him and, “Jim—fuck—more, God—”

Even in his half-swooning rhythms against her shoulder, he thought, not his fucking name again. “Shut up,” he groaned, even as he felt himself wringing up tighter in response.

“Jim—”

And then he grabbed a handful of her hair at the back, insistent. “Nyota,” he growled, almost threateningly, “Please shut the fuck up.”

He gave her more, leaning up a little but crooking his glances again into the dim facelessness at her shoulder; and her head tossed down, nudging farther into his chest as she locked up in a shuddering silence, reaching the end. He felt himself briskly following over, let out a final defeated grunt and clutched his frame into hers, letting his shoulder collapse clumsily into her...

Just as this was happening, he tensed up all over again, having heard her let out a tiny, minute shriek. He backed up above her: “Woah. What—?”

He could tell she was clutching her hand to her mouth, and she replied with a tone of gloomed annoyance, “It’s nothing...”

“Bullshit, what did I do?” He sighed, speaking a little louder, “Lights. Low level.”

The room settings obeyed in accordance, and Uhura was leaning forward, pulling a sheet up over her, one hand still nursing her face. “I bit my lip, that’s all.”

“Is it bad? Should we...McCoy—?”

No...”

“Well, why...” Jim’s eyes widened a little, his head dipping down to look at her. “Why are you crying?”

Nyota had managed to find some garment to hold up to stop the bleeding. “My eyes are watering,” she corrected, glaring. But then she said, “Because I bit my lip. Because...you’re nice. I didn’t expect that.”

And Jim needed a second to process that in any case, so he got up and put his briefs on and went to the bathroom to find her a swab or some shit like that. When he returned she was mostly clothed, and the bleeding must have stopped because she was really just sitting there.

They didn’t manage to form any words again until a few minutes later when he was handing her a glass of something with a pinkish tint, which she managed to eye with a deal of puzzlement.

“One of those delightful cocktails Bones programmed into the replicators,” Jim explained dryly. “It’s supposed to prevent hangovers.”

She rolled her eyes, more at herself than anything, as she reached for it. “I may not even be that drunk, really,” she admitted. There was something apologetic about it, but Jim didn’t know.

He pulled on a pair of lounge pants and sat next to her, leaving a good space between them. After a moment, she finally volunteered to faintly explain, “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I was trying to hurt you.”

“...Great,” Jim scoffed. Then, “What?...Why?”

Uhura shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I guess I just kind of wanted to...get back at you or something.”

As Jim slowly took that in she took the moment to knock back a good amount of the pink stuff. The taste sent her face into a pinched grimace.

With a wipe at her mouth she complained, “Blugh—What is in this?”

Jim interrupted, “Are you fucking serious?”

She steeled her jaw a bit before managing to look him in the eyes. “Yes.”

Uhura set down her glass, turned and pulled on the last of her clothes, and inched herself off the bed. Jim watched her, looking altogether roughed up by the state of things rather than anywhere near focused enough about the evening’s upset to really be angry.

“Look, I don’t want you to think this was exactly planned,” she said, turning to look at him once she was standing. “I just absolutely hated you today, and then I was...drunk or something, and I’m sorry.”

Jim finally managed something like a crooked smile. “Why, Miss Uhura. Are you admitting you don’t hate me every day?”

Maybe he just wanted to wipe that bothersome remorse off her features, and it worked. They both knew from the look she gave him then that the Jim Kirk she saw there was the same one who had made her smile four years ago in a bar with some badly placed flirting and a dirty comment on xenolinguistics, a person she never really let herself see after that time, that minute.

Jim flatly said, “Nyota...”

It didn’t seem to mean anything right then except that he was never going to say it again. Suddenly, with a willful look, she bent over, placed a hand on his chin and kissed him on the cheek. As she pulled away, her hand, and a slightly bothered pair of eyes lingered on his face. Her brows lowered. “You really are sweet,” she proclaimed with annoyance, as if she’d lost some bet with herself. Jim’s eyes were filling with endearing triumph, but only his eyes, as she turned to walk away.

“Wait—”

She turned back.

He blinked, still structuring the thoughts into words. The strangeness of the question seemed to convey the frailty of his thinking closely enough that it hardly even mattered what he was asking, when he finally just said, “What else don’t Vulcans do?”

She sighed, shifting on her feet a little, crossing her arms. “They don’t stop being someone’s friend because of something that happened with an ex. You don’t need me to tell you he’d find that beyond illogical,” she finally said reassuringly. “As for the rest...You’re gonna have to figure that out by yourself.”




...Part One...

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You did a great job ^___^ I don't really like Kirk and Uhura together, but I actually liked this story :)

well, thanks for giving it a chance, I'm glad it worked for you : )

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awwww thank you for this story.

This was lovely. Hot, but the emotional side all woven in deftly, too. I hope you continue the story, however you see fit, but I'll also say I lurk over on the kirk/spock/uhura community, too. Hint. Hint.

LOL, hint is acknowledged. The little sequel has kind of taken over my brain, and I have to say is going in some...unexpected directions? I am definitely working on it; we'll see what happens. Thanks for the feedback :)

wonderful portrayal of both characters! You did this pairing just right!:D And I would love to read more, of course.

That's good to hear, cause I really wasn't sure if I totally butchered Nyota or not. We don't know a whole lot about her, but I feel like she's a bit different here than how most portray her in fandom. More is hopefully coming! Thank you for reading and commenting.

Job so very well done. Thanks for posting.

Great story. Not only was it hot *fans self* but you brought a lot of depth and emotion to it. There were a lot of emotional layers here that you wove together beautifully.

Glad you enjoyed it; thank you for the kind feedback!

Ooooh! This was really different. I feel like this was one of those situations where one word or one look might change the whole outcome, and you captured that uncertainty really well. So cool!

Gosh, this was perfect! I love K/U so much and I love YOU for writing incredible fic about them.

More. Please?

Well, thank you, dear! Yeah, I'm kind of in love with K/U and don't even know why, but there isn't much out there for them and I am a frustrated little shipper.
Working on more. Thanks for reading <3

Did I just read angsty smut with layers, LAYERS, of betrayal and emotional compromise whilst maintaining character integrity yet balanced with a flourish of an original take on said characters?!?!? ASKDFJ!!!! I think I just DID! *brains is broke*

Thank you. Times a billion. This comment just got me all motivated to type away on the sequel until I can't stay awake instead of going straight to bed.

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Thanks so much for such a lovely comment! I'm very happy to hear you have converted, since the K/U crowd is kind of a lonely party. I became quite unexpectedly obsessed myself.

Oh, I like this so far. Very interesting relationship dynamics. *rushes on to next part*

*finally* got round to starting this!

once again, a great story - loved the emotional layers and angst woven over and through the hot stuff; and I like how it seems to give as a side of Uhura that is a little different from what we usually see of her, while she still is, undeniably, *herself*.

well done!
off to read more now...

Thank you! It's pretty reassuring that you thought Uhura was still herself, since even though writers are only working with a pretty limited idea of her from the movie, fandom has this set idea of what she's like that almost bores me, and it's a challenge to branch away from that without having her lose her sophistication.

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