Required Reading

I don't own anything Star Wars, Star Trek, The Dark Knight Rises, The Fantastic Four, or Ninja Assassin. Characters you don't recognize belong exclusively to me. I tend to pair male protagonists with women of color, specifically black women. If this poses a problem with your ability to suspend disbelief, then this fanfic blog isn't for you. Otherwise, do enjoy.


Coat Check

First published: April 2010
Summary: An intimate connection is made at Admiral Pike's party.

He walked around the room, uncomfortable in his dress blues, but starkly calm and professional as always.  He hated formal events, but this was for his former captain.  He could have chosen to wear other formal dress, but he did not own anything other than his uniform and was content to wear what he had.  Not in the mood for light banter or small talk, he orbited the large dining hall, nodding at acquaintances and officers he knew.  He kept moving to refrain from engaging in conversation and walked with his hands clasped behind his back.  There was no doubt about it; Spock hated formal events, especially social gatherings.  This was all in celebration of Admiral Pike’s birthday.  He respected his former captain enough to attend, but that was all.  He hated to be pulled away from his ongoing investigation in the identification of a new species of plant, but this was for Admiral Pike.

A flash of green caught his eye.  It was her.  She was all the way on the other side of the banquet hall, but he saw her nonetheless.  Her hair was styled in a dramatic upsweep and she wore emerald studs in her ears.  She took advantage of the rare opportunity to wear something other than Starfleet’s standard dress uniform.  Her dress was most certainly designed for such an occasion.  It accentuated all of her curves, enhanced her bosom and the split was most certainly…inappropriate…for work.  But this was not work, so it was more than suitable.  She caught the eye of every man in the room, whether available or not.  Spock was unsure of whether she had a date, but it did not matter.  She was a stunning beauty.

He wanted her.  He always had.  Vulcan discipline and professionalism kept him at a distance, even though they shared a console on the bridge.  But desire—a deep, passionate yearning—a definite product of his humanity, would not keep her off his mind.  Uhura was always there, a dancing flame that kept him awake under the most perverted of circumstances.  He was repressed; he knew it and accepted it.  It was a part of the staid lifestyle he led.  Vulcans did well to keep away from those things that would disrupt such an existence and he was no different.  Or so he thought.

She was also orbiting the room, which made no sense because she could have been in the middle; the center of attention as she so rightly deserved to be.  She had a smile on her face and it was genuine.  Perhaps she knew how desirable she was and how every man in the room—including Spock—wanted to be with her.  She certainly walked like she knew it to be the case; her hips swayed as she moved and she carried nothing but a clutch.  She walked with confidence and style; unabashedly advertising her magnificent physique.  Other women stared at Uhura, clearly jealous of her poise.  These same women did not wear flattering attire or tried to hide their figures with cloaks and wraps, unable to manage even a scrap of the grace she so expertly emitted. 

Uhura was walking in his direction, but her pace was constantly interrupted by men who wanted to speak to her and steal her attention.  Several times she had company on her walk, but she managed to extricate herself in a refined and pleasant manner.  Once, Admiral Pike caught her by the arm and led her over to a group of Starfleet top dogs.  She stood with them for several minutes, and then tapped Pike on the arm as she walked away.  There was a flash in the Admiral’s eyes as he watched her go.  Spock understood it; understood it in the way men do.  Pike wanted her too.

He was staring, so he saw it when she looked at him.  She slowed in her walk, but he maintained his pace.  The smile she had dissipated, but it was replaced by a different look.  She bit her lip; a chink in her armor of elegance and splendor, but she did not avert her eyes.  They stared at one another as they passed like ships in the night and when Spock turned to look back, she was looking as well.  Caught, they both faced front and continued their paths on the fringe of guests.

This happened four more times.

The evening was blessedly over.  Uhura hated formal events, but she rarely got the opportunity to dress up, so she took advantage of the occasion.  The dress was a fabulous find from her last Terran shore leave; she could not resist buying it, nor the shoes that went with it.  It was an eye-catcher to be sure, and she relished in any opportunity to catch eyes.  Any man’s would do, but if she could get the attention of her commanding officer, it was a bonus.

It appeared that the few thousand credits she spent on her appearance worked.  She noticed him staring at her from across the room and he never took his eyes off of her even as they walked past each other…five times.  It was fair because she was staring at him.  He looked so handsome in his dress blues, but she dearly wanted to know how he would look in a tuxedo.

Uhura was pleasantly tired and ready to leave.  She removed her coat check ticket from her clutch, looking forward to the time when she could remove her four-inch heels.  The shoes were great, but she was ready to take them off.

She waited at the stand for the attendant, but he was nowhere to be found.  Irritated, she glanced around and made her way into the cloakroom.  She didn’t want to wait for the young cadet assigned to the position because her feet hurt.  Uhura made her way into the cloakroom as she looked at her ticket.  235-A.  She looked at the racks; there were two on each side and there were coats, cloaks, shawls, wraps and jackets hanging from each hangar.  The A-rack was in the back; the B rack in front.  The cloakroom itself was wide and long and made an “L”.

She sighed.  From the numbering system, 235-A was in the back.  She made her way down the aisle, humming to herself, thinking about a lot of things, especially Spock.  Professionalism kept her from doing anything more than her duty and common courtesy required, but she wished that she had the guts to grab him and kiss him.  With the way he stared at her tonight, Uhura thought that she might be able to get to get away with it.  While not overly expressive, there was enough in his eyes to cause a flutter in her stomach.

She turned the corner and began to examine the numbers, counting silently.  235-B was the first rack, so 235-A was on the back rack.  Uhura parted the first rack of coats and stepped through, moving towards the second rack.  Her black wrap was folded over a hanger.  She reached for it, stepping all the way into the closet.  Uhura grabbed her wrap and shook it out to remove the wrinkle.  She draped it over her arm and turned to leave.

Spock was standing in front of her, beyond the A-rack.  Uhura’s breath caught.  She met his eyes and there was no mistaking the heat in them; he wasn’t trying to mask his desire.  He had followed her.

“S—” she started to say, but something about the way he looked made her stop talking.  He parted the coats on the B-rack and stepped inside.  And then he was before her, looking down at her.  She stared back at him and there was no mistaking the twanging in her belly.  She started breathing hard and her wrap slid off her arm and down to the floor.

The cloakroom jumped from warm to hot in the space of seconds.  Uhura’s breath became ragged as he stepped closer to her.  She backed away instinctively, moving until she felt her back against the wall.  She rubbed her neck, her eyes never leaving his.  It was there; it was between them, around them, through them, connecting them.  Then he was before her, his graceful hands on her neck, her shoulders, her waist.  He put an arm around her and drew her to him, connecting her with his arousal.  The breath spurted between her lips as she tried to process what was happening here and now.

His breathing was heavy just like hers.  When their bodies joined, he could feel her heartbeat thrumming and could smell her arousal.  And he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.  Following her into the cloakroom had been a spur-of-the-moment illogically human decision, but it was the right one.  He ached for the feel and taste of her and devoured her scent, allowing his desire for her to consume him.

Her back was against the wall.  Her dress had an incredible slit up the front.  He pressed against her and slipped his hands under the slit to push the dress up and over her hips.  She did not protest, but watched his movements.  She put her hands on his forearms as he kneed her legs apart.  He grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head, securing them in one hand while undoing his fly with the other.  She gasped when he grabbed her arms, but did not take her eyes from his.  Spock used his free hand to lift her thigh; he was pleased to discover that she wore garters, and with one quick yank, buried himself with her.  Uhura gasped again and raised her hips to accommodate him, liking the abrupt entry; liking the silent intensity.

He kept her wrists imprisoned and kept her balanced over his hips as he thrust hard and strong.  They stared at each other; breathing harshly and in time, overwhelmed by the passion of the moment.  She closed her eyes at the rough feel of him.  Were it not for that, she would not have believed that this was taking place.  Her back grazed the wall; she could feel her hair escaping the pins and combs that secured her upsweep.  She bit her lip, trying to hold back her moans.  Spock secured her to the wall, pressing his cheek to the side of her face.

How he maintained balance with her wrists pinned above her head was beyond her, but there was something to be said about the Vulcan’s intrinsic knowledge of sexual physics.  She found that she didn’t much care; the fact that they were fucking in Admiral Pike’s cloakroom was enough to drive her crazy.  He was so hard and he felt so good. She crossed her ankles to trap him and moaned into his ear, trying her best to keep silent, but it, like him, was hard.

They heard voices.  Her eyes widened and she started to say his name.  Spock released her wrists and covered her mouth, adjusting so that she didn’t slide.  However, he continued his thrusts, slowing down to reduce the noise.  Uhura stared at him and put her arms around his neck.  His eyes were as dark as night, full of desire and longing.  She had no doubt that what she saw in his eyes reflected what was in hers.  And it was good just like this…no words; a silent, solid, strong acknowledgement of their mutual passion.

The voices got closer and he moved two fingers into her mouth so that she could suck on them.  He didn’t want to stop; couldn’t, in fact.  She felt so good, so absolutely right.  He wasn’t concerned about the voices.  They were hidden behind two racks of coats so it was not likely they could be seen.  Spock didn’t much care, but he didn’t want to risk drawing attention for the sake of Uhura’s reputation.

The voices passed by them; it was a man and a woman, reminiscing about the fabulous evening.  Spock never took his eyes off Uhura; merely moved so that he could hold her and revel in her warm, soft skin and wet, slick heat.  He wanted to verbalize, but it was so much better like this…a hushed, hard, heated recognition of their shared desire.

She allowed her breath to escape through her teeth and he knew she was about to come.  He could sense it, feel it and wanted her to do it; to come all over him, to give him the evidence that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.  He himself was about to climax and he wanted them to do it together, but then he felt her quiver and clench and her breath escape in a loud exhale…loud enough to be heard.  Her eyes were closed and she bit her lip becomingly, smearing her lipstick.  He pressed his forehead against hers and came moments later, his breathing betrayed by his heartbeat.

“Frank, did you hear something?” It was the voice of the woman.

“You’re drunk, Gladys,” said the man.

Uhura held on to Spock, grateful for his strength as she trembled in his arms.  She pressed her face into his neck and held him tight.  He held on to her and closed his eyes as the voices once again passed by.


Some moments later, Uhura emerged from the cloakroom, holding her wrap and clutch.  The attendant gave her an odd look, but she walked past the cadet with a serene smile on her face.  Spock put her back together after their interlude and she felt as if she walked on clouds.  She stopped to take a wine stem from a waiter because she needed a drink, after which she was going to head back to the Enterprise.

Spock emerged a few minutes later and walked past the dumbstruck cadet.  Briefly, he locked eyes with Uhura and it was all there, all of it.  Then she broke eye contact and walked away.  He turned and walked off in the other direction.

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