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.


Sexy Beast (4/20)


Spock sat in his darkened quarters, contemplating the events of the past two days.  Once the relationship was established—pleasurably so—they decided upon a set of public behaviors that would indicative of their connection.  They would be seen leaving each other’s quarters.  They would take meals together, with the midday meal in the officers’ dining room.  She would have to let him touch her.  Uhura had expressed surprise when she learned that Spock wanted to have a certain amount of PDA.

“You mean you like to be touched?  You’re Vulcan!” she had said.

“I am aware of my heritage,” he had replied.  “I do not care for extended physical contact with anyone except you.  I would appreciate the opportunity to acknowledge my affection for you in front of others.”

“Do you mean like holding hands?”

“My hand on your arm or shoulder will suffice.  Your hand on my arm will also be adequate. ”

Spock would continue to escort her to and from her duty stations whenever possible.  They would attend social functions as a couple.  She did not ask him if he could dance.  There had to be times when they would spend the night together.  Uhura did not want to agree to that, but she understood that it was necessary if they were to pull off the charade.

He had said, “What we do at that time will be up to you.”

She had replied, “We’ll do nothing.  I will entertain myself and you will find something to occupy your time.”

“I would prefer to occupy my time entertaining you, Nyota.”

“Don’t call me—”

“I think that it is appropriate that I begin using your first name.  We are a couple now and it is logical for us to refer to one another by name.  You, of course, will call me Spock.”

“You don’t have a first name?”

“You would not be able to pronounce it.”

In the end, the rules were established by mutual agreement.  Spock tented his fingers as he sat in the dark, ruminating.  He understood Uhura’s hesitancy.  He understood why she wanted limited contact.  He knew that it would take her some time to get used to everything.  He would do whatever he needed to ensure her comfort.  He would also do whatever it took to make her want him.

“I want you to keep your hands to yourself!” she had said.

“I will not put my hands on you unless I am expressly invited to do so,” he had replied.

“I mean it,” she snapped.  “No more kisses of ANY kind!”


“I’m serious, Mr.—Spock!”

“As you wish,” he said.

Spock closed his eyes as he enjoyed the memory of their first kiss.  The look, the feel, the smell of her; he had been aroused past the point of logical thought.  She was so lovely and so feminine in her T-shirt and panties.  He knew he would want her to dress that way when they spent the night together. 

Spock leaned back in his chair.  He told her that he wanted her for more than a physical relationship and it was true.  He sensed something in her, something that called to him.  Something that was once a part of him but no longer existed.  Somewhere along the line during his service to the Empire, he lost his moral center.  It had been a gradual change from within, a result of his adaptation to the brutish existence upon the ISS-E.  He had been an officer for many years and he could no longer pinpoint when the shift occurred.  The Empire did not start off as evil; it, like him, evolved from a benevolent entity to a malevolent realm over the course of time.

Spock was honest with Uhura when he told her about the disquiet he often felt.  He was not innately cruel, but had become such since attaining officership.  Not born but made.  While not having blood on his hands directly, he, through his ambivalence, sanctioned the murder of several societies and the theft of valuable merchandise from other cultures and civilizations.  But she wouldn’t make such distinctions.  He participated in the torture of his subordinates and allowed heinous acts to be committed by his operatives.  It had all become second nature to where he didn’t think twice about kidnapping the beautiful Uhura.  As always, he saw something he wanted and he took it.  For that, he had no regrets.

Uhura’s capacity to feel outrage stimulated that long-dormant part of him.  Her captain, a man Spock came to respect within a matter of hours (for more reasons other than his decision to leave Spock alive) insisted that he use whatever tactics necessary to save a peaceful civilization.  He had even told him of a weapon he could use to effect mutiny and change the Empire from within.  Spock told that Captain Kirk that he would consider it.

However, he had been distracted for the past two weeks.  Spock was obsessed with having Uhura.  Once she was firmly secured as his woman, he would turn his attentions to broader matters.  He knew that she could reach that latent part of him and extricate that which he figured to be lost.  He wondered sometimes.  She had said that he wanted her to save him, and in a very real sense, that was true.  As long as she remained the same.

But first things first.  Their alignment was a sham, a charade.  Spock was determined that the farce would last no more than a couple of weeks.  He would use every devious trick, every wile, and every ploy in his considerable repertoire to win her over.  Within two weeks, their relationship would be as real and as meaningful as any other.  He was sure of that.  His piratical sensibilities served him well in such matters.

Spock once more indulged himself in remembering how it felt to kiss her.


Her breath escaped in hot chuffs and she ground her hips against the sheets.  Her wrists were bound with his gold sash and secured to the bedpost.  Her knees were bent and spread and he lay between them, investigating the contours of her femininity.  His fingers—elegant, gentle—parted and caressed her folds, stroking until they were dark with color.  He used his pinky to caress the engorged dark pink nub, making her breath catch and her arms strain against her bonds.  She quivered like the strings on his lyre.  He traced her opening slowly, counterclockwise, watching intently as her nectar escaped in thin rivulets.  He did not speak and would not allow her to.  He touched her swollen clit with the tip of his nose and a cry escaped her.

He told her not to make a sound.

He tasted her, spreading his tongue wide over the opening and brushing upwards to lave the whole of her sex in one stroke.  Then he parted her again using his thumbs and wagged the underside of his tongue over her clit.
She cried out again.  The sensations were indescribable.  Her body betrayed her; left her control and yielded to his.  She liked it.

He warned her again not to make a sound.

She could not move her legs; he was wedged between them.  His chest hair brushed tender places on her inner thighs and the tips of his ears scratched the areas where her legs met.  He rolled his tongue and slipped it within her, using it like a straw.  She curled her fingers around the ends of the sash and moaned as she heard the sounds of his pleasure.  She couldn’t help it.  It was better than one of the more racy parts of her salacious romance novels.

He told her that it was good.

Then he was over her, covering her, staring into her eyes and she felt his hands on the undersides of her knees, pushing upward and outward, entering her in one abrupt motion that made her grunt.

He threatened to gag her if she made any more noise.

He held her spread and moved within her with slow, deep thrusts.  He was deliberate and intense, using his vast knowledge of physics to get the angles to reach her corners.  He watched her.

Her eyes rolled and she closed them.  He was so hard and he filled her body so good; she had never been filled that way before and it just seemed so right that he fit her.  He could…he could…oh, he could…!

He demanded that she open her eyes to look at him, to accept him, accept this.  She could do nothing but.

She welcomed the friction, the heat of him, the hardness of his sex; a vibrating, pulsing reality.  She welcomed the intensity, the dominance and even the way she was tied to the bed.  She had no control.  He took it but she wanted him to take it, to take her.  She wanted him…her Spock…her Spock…her Spock…
Except her Spock didn’t have a beard.


Uhura woke up quick, a hand between her thighs.  She sat up too fast, blinking rapidly as her head swam.  Her panties were soaking wet and her nipples rock-hard.  She was a bundle of nerves.  She had been dreaming.  She’d been having a graphic dream of sex with Spock.  Not her Spock and not the sweet dreams that she’d had of that Spock, but the other one who held her hostage on board this floating hell.  The dream felt so real, so intense that she had actually climaxed.

She got up to get some water and change her panties, embarrassed though she was alone.  She splashed water on her face and gazed at her reflection.  How could she have had such a wicked dream?  How could she have dreamed about having hot sex with that man, a man she loathed?  And it was great sex.  He took her.  He didn’t ask for her permission and he didn’t warn her, he just took it, took her.  She had not been the least bit upset about it, either.  Uhura feared that the man was bringing out her latent dark inclinations.

It was all because of that damned kiss.  Spock tricked her.  Uhura was looking forward to finding out if his lips were as soft as they seemed and how they would feel against hers—insane because she detested him (did she?)—and to see if his beard would tickle.  But he pushed off her robe, got down on one knee, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his face between her thighs.

She could do nothing but stand there, stupefied, her hands on his shoulders.

He slid the tip of his nose down the seam of her pink panties and then back up.  He inhaled and pressed his forehead against her belly, then pushed a warm kiss against her sex.  It was a hard enough kiss that her clit sprang up underneath the pressure.  She released a shaky breath and curled her fingers into his shoulders.  Spock kissed her there, right there.  Then he touched the tip of his nose to it and she trembled.  Then he brushed his moustache over it.  She gasped.  And then he did it all again.  And again.  And again.  She seeped.  He moved his lips down to press the center of the moist patch, sucking ever so slightly.  He moved slowly, deliberately, drawing out the tension and the pleasure.  She gasped again, gripping his shoulders.

“Ah,” she breathed.  She lost all trace of coherence and actually found herself with her hands in his hair, leading him, guiding him.

He moved his chin back and forth, side to side and up and down, using his marvelous beard as another instrument of pleasure.

“Mr. Spock…oh, Mr. Spock…!”

Her eyes were closed and her lips open.  Uhura could not believe that he was making her respond like this.  Her panties were still on and her nipples untouched.  She was puffy and moist, liquid warmth radiating up from the core of her.  If he touched her clit again, she was going to detonate.

He actually burrowed to reach it and closed his lips around the tiny protuberance and sucked.  She popped like a balloon, climaxing hard enough to make her knees clang together like the high-hat on a drum.

“Mr.…Spock….!”  She wasn’t worth a damn.

Spock watched her come, watched her panties dampen and actually hooked his fingers into the waistband so that he could get to the source.  He wanted to taste her.  But that was for another day.

He rose to his feet and held her.  She blinked.  Her lower lip was wedged between her teeth and her face was high with color.  Her nipples were hard little balls against his chest.  He slid his hands to her buttocks and gripped.  She gasped.  She was no match for this man.

“Miss Uhura,” he said.

After some time, she swallowed.  “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Was it not to your liking?”

“No.  I mean, uhh…I didn’t expect that.  That wasn’t the kiss I was hoping—planned.”

“Are you unsatisfied?  For I can do better.”  He pushed her into him so that she could feel his own arousal.

“No,” she said, closing her eyes.  His sex was a hot bar against her belly.  “No, no.  I’m all right.”  She wasn’t.

“Miss Uhura, I must warn you that you cannot be vague when you give me instructions.  You must be specific.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said.  He twitched against her belly.  It felt like it was ten inches long.  The part of her mind that was infatuated with the darkness of this whole thing sent out a thought: ‘Can we handle all that?’

A heartbeat passed.  She inhaled.

‘We’ll certainly try.’

‘No,’ she told herself.  He needed to leave.  Her body was proving that it was untrustworthy by declaring its allegiance to him.  She tried to pull away.

“No,” he said.  “It is my duty as a Vulcan to give you the kiss you hoped for.”  Spock pulled her back in and kissed her.  For Uhura, time stopped.

His lips were softer than any man’s lips had a right to be and the way his beard felt against her face was nothing short of magnificent.  Her breasts were smashed against his chest; his erection in her stomach, his hands on her ass.  To her astonishment, Uhura found herself kissing him back, gripping his shoulders, allowing his tongue entry.  He was so hot and so hard.  She could not help but feel a measure of satisfaction that she made him that way.  A miniscule victory in what was definitely a war.

“Mmn,” she murmured against his mouth.  Another two seconds and he would have one of her legs up and over his hip.  And then their union would be for real.  She would have been powerless to resist.

When he released her, she was blinking owlishly, helpless.  He was beside himself.

“Was that the kiss you wanted?”

She nodded dumbly.  “Uh huh.”

He took a deep breath.  He was going to cherish this time.  “We must work out the details of our arrangement.”

“I can’t right now,” she said.  “I need to be alone.”

“I shall, of course, give you whatever time you need.  May I escort you to breakfast in the morning?  Or would you prefer to dine here?”

“We can eat here,” she said.  “I would like privacy.”

“As you wish,” he said.  “Good night.”


She lay on her bed afterwards, burning all over, wishing that he had not been a gentleman; that he had tapped into his deviant nature and taken her.  Uhura had to admit—reluctantly—that she found his dominant tendencies appealing.  It made her blush to acknowledge that it turned her on when he demanded anything of her.  No one else had ever made her feel the way this man did.  Not even her Spock, though nothing of significance had ever taken place between them.  She had to wonder if she could continue to refer to him as her Spock.

Did she want this Spock to dominate her?  Did that make her a submissive?  Did she want to be?  Did she secretly desire it? 

Her clandestine mind shouted: ‘YES!’

Uhura shook her head.  She was an independent woman.  She did not submit to any man and she would not submit to Spock.  He would not control her and she would not yield to him.

But when she fell asleep, she dreamed of him doing just that: tying her to the bed and taking her.  She dreamed that she did just that: submit to him and LIKE IT.  It had been a dream so vivid that it was almost scary.

She would just have to ensure that it wouldn’t happen.


They met for breakfast.  Like before, he wheeled in a service.  She was fully dressed and waiting for him.  The initial conversation was polite and banal.  He offered her some of his food and she started to decline but changed her mind.  When they finished eating, they established the rules of their relationship.

He escorted her to their duty station, making sure that her hand was firmly tucked into the crook of his arm as they walked the corridors.  Crewmates noticed.  When they entered the turbo lift, Captain Kirk was there.  He eyed Uhura appreciatively and then looked at Spock.

“Commander Spock.  Lieutenant Uhura.”

“Captain,” he said.

“Sir,” she replied.

A slow smile spread across Kirk’s face as he regretted placing his bet on Spock, for his first officer had definitely put papers on the new Uhura.  Spock didn’t even give him a chance to talk to her. 

They exited the lift and stepped out onto the bridge.  The other officers saluted Kirk and he took his seat.  Sulu watched Spock escort Uhura to her console and his eyes narrowed as Spock kissed her fingers after she sat down. 

“Thank you, Commander Spock,” she said.

“You are welcome, Lieutenant,” he replied.  Then he turned and met Sulu’s gaze before taking his own seat.

The helmsman was furious.


Word spread quickly, as it always did on board a starship.  By the end of that day, everyone knew that Lieutenant Uhura was officially hands-off.  Those who were not aware of the change merely acknowledged that it was only a matter of time before Spock crumbled under her power.  Those who sensed that she was an altogether different person felt otherwise.  Those who desired Spock for themselves were jealous.  Those who desired Uhura were angry enough not to care that she was now with the commander.

Spock could not be everywhere at once and when his duty kept him occupied, he made sure that she was protected.  He knew that there were those on board the ship that would not be affected by his claim on her, Sulu being only one.  Turock was as vigilant as ever and Spock assigned another young Vulcan watchdog to ensure that no one would lay hands on his woman.  He meant what he told Sulu that day on the bridge.

Uhura was still unaware that she had bodyguards.  But she had to admit she felt a great sense of relief.  The verbal attacks and spats stopped and for the most part, people stopped hitting on her.  There were still a few who apparently did not fear the wrath of Spock.  She could move about the ship without worry that she would get into an argument or have to fend off a suitor.  She felt like she was actually free and it was a heady sensation.

Uhura went to the ship’s stores and made an effort to find some comfortable garments, but found it was mostly an exercise in futility.  Apparently, the Empire believed in setting women’s lib back centuries, for there was very little in the way of unrevealing attire.  Every piece of women’s clothing showed breasts, belly, butt or thighs, or any combination thereof.  She ended up selecting some extra-large Imperial men’s tees and sweatpants.  While she could not wear the items on duty, she was happy to have something loose to change into.  Besides, it would be easier to fight off Spock if she was fully covered.  Her body had a tendency to ignore her whenever he was around.

Then she visited the commissary to purchase some items that she had been wanting since she got used to her new quarters—a few things that would make the rooms feel more like her own.  She got rid of the Nubian statue and the beads and wanted to have the bedroom painted in neutral colors.  A few of the things she bought were luxury items like bonbons and romance novels.  Uhura had a yen for bonbons and old 20th century Terran bodice-rippers and found several in the discount bins.  She bought as many as she could. 

It would be a way to keep her conscious and subconscious minds occupied whenever she had to spend the night with Spock.  She could get lost in her romance novels, to the point that she could shut out the world and she dearly needed to be able to do that with Spock.   They had agreed that he would spend two nights a week with her in her quarters.   She didn’t know what he planned to do, but she was going to lock herself in her bedroom and eat chocolate while reading about forbidden love between wenches and pirates or privileged farmers’ daughters and sexy ranch hands.

The next few days were enjoyable.  Spock was very good company, polite, gracious, attentive.  He had not made any wayward moves or tried to trick her.  He did not touch her unless they were in public, and it was nothing more than his hand on her arm or her hand in the crook of his elbow.  They had lunch in the officers’ dining room and breakfast in her room.  It was very easy to forget what kind of man he really was because he was not that way around her.  He was a gentleman and a terrific conversationalist.

Sometimes they could not have dinner because he was occupied with his duties.  The captain had indeed sold the stolen Halkan dilithium and they were now on their way to another star system with new orders.  Uhura felt a sense of dread because the Empire ordered the ISS-E to go to Dantouine II, which she knew to be a peaceful civilization in her universe.  Why they were going there, she didn’t know, but the fingers of fear were present anyway.


After relieving Turock of his duty, Spock rang her door chime.  He held a box in one hand.  Security officers saluted him as they walked past and crew members nodded.  Spock made no secret of his plans for the evening; he told the bridge crew that unless it was an emergency, he did not wish to be disturbed.  He mentioned it to the captain, who merely clapped him on the shoulder.

“You old sly dog, Spock!”

“I do not understand what you refer to, Captain.”

“You didn’t waste any time, did you? Did you bust her cherry?  Or is she a woman in every sense of the word?  Because I know you’ve fucked her by now.  What’s it like?  I bet it’s great.”

“Captain, I do not share your enthusiasm for discussing intimate relations.”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I get that.  But was she a virgin?  I’m dying to know.”

“I will not disclose that information, sir.”

“Yeah, Spock, I know.  Just looking for some hot details.  Marlena’s locked it up tonight and I’m going to see one of my other side dishes to pick up her slack.”

“I do not know how you maintain your harem, Captain.”

“Got enough of it to go around and keep ‘em happy.  Anyway Spock, I won’t hold you.”

Spock wanted their first night together to be memorable, except he was not sure what it would entail.  He planned to engage Uhura in conversation about the life she had before.  He wanted to know if she had had a lover, a partner, a significant other of some sort.  He needed to know if she would try and rebel against him by seeking out that person’s opposite.  The thought nagged at him, disturbed him.  He would not share her; he would kill any other who tried to have her.

Uhura was nervous about their first evening and said so over lunch.  Spock placated her, telling her that she would have complete control over the events of the evening.  They did not have dinner together, as he was busy on the bridge.  He wanted everything settled before he left for the night.

Spock waited a moment and then chimed again.  When she didn’t answer, he fed the computer his override code and entered her quarters.  When the door slid shut, he ordered the computer to lock it.

Where was she?

He put the box on her end table and moved further into the room.  He closed his eyes, breathing in the warm musky fragrance of her suite.  She was burning a candle; violating about five different Imperial rules, but he didn’t care.

She was taking a shower.  Spock removed his sash and uniform jacket and walked quietly into her bedroom.  Her uniform lay on the bed next to a small pile of dark sweats.  He hoped that she was not planning to wear that.

The bathroom door was open and steam puffed out into the bedroom.  Moving stealthily, he went to the bathroom door and turned towards her mirror.  He could see her through the shower door.  She was oblivious, singing a song he didn’t know as she lathered.

He watched.

Her head, encased in a plastic cinched cap, was tilted back.  Her eyes were closed.  She used her hands to bathe, moving them over her body in long, slow sweeps.  She swayed as she sang, rocking her hips back and forth.

He watched.  He put one hand on his stomach.  He was tight, hard.

Her soapy hands moved over her belly, caressing the muscles of her abdomen.  She no longer wore the navel ring or the belly chain.  Spock did not comment on it, but he missed the flash of gold at her waist.  It was its own stimulus.

She moved her hands behind and over the curve of her ass.  Spock took a shaky breath and his hand moved lower.  Uhura soaped herself, caressed herself and cleaned herself in the wonderful heat of the shower.  She slid her hands up to soap her breasts, moving her fingers over, between and under.  They bounced invitingly and her nipples stuck out like gumdrops.

Spock swallowed, losing control.  He had never desired a woman as much as he did her.  He had never reacted to a woman the way he was responding to her.  No woman, Vulcan or human, had ever made him lose his cool and behave the way as he was behaving now.  It was foreign to him but it felt so right.

She stroked her thighs, perching one on the upraised corner to soap her calves.  Lovingly, Uhura ran her hands up and down her leg and then repeated the action with the other one.  Then she moved up and over her thighs, bringing one hand to rest between them.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then opened them again because he was loathe to miss anything.  Her eyes were closed and she was moving her fingers gently, slowly.  Uhura’s lips were parted just the slightest bit and her tongue slid back and forth over her bottom lip.

He stifled his groan and moved his hand in sync with hers.


“Umm,” Uhura murmured, moving under the shower head to rinse.  She kept her hands between her legs, thinking about him, thinking about the dreams she’d been having lately.  Tied up.  Spanked.  Bent over his lap.  On her knees.  Indulging his fetishes. Face down on her bed.  Being taken, being had, being fucked.  She could dream it but she would never ever allow it to come out. She was a lady.  But here, alone in her shower, out of sight, she could engage her dark fantasies.  She put one leg up on the corner and braced herself against the tile, moving her fingers back and forth over her throbbing clit.  He made her like this.  He made her do this.  This Spock, not her Spock.  And Uhura knew that this Spock was now her Spock.  Or she was his Uhura.  Any man that could make her masturbate to climax…

Over lunch, she secretly studied him.  Physically, just like the Spock she knew.  Mentally, they were universes apart, both figuratively and literally.  This Spock had an added cadence to his voice, an inflexion that was strong, forceful and she found it appealing.  His hands moved with an elegant grace and she already knew them to be smooth and warm.  But it was the beard, the one physical alteration that made the difference in her responses.  This Spock made her tremble in a way the other Spock didn’t, and it was likely due to his failure to respond to her. She could no longer dwell on that because this Spock made no secret of his passion for her.  Part of her found it refreshing to be so desired.

She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the kiss and the kiss, moving her fingers over her sex.  She was broken.  In spite of her denials and insistence that nothing would happen; the mere thought of knowing he would spend the night kept her in a state of perkiness the whole day.  She intended to handle her lust before he got there; that way it would be quite easy to deal with him.  Ignore him, as she planned to.

Where had she gone?  Who was this Nyota Uhura?

“Hhhuunh,” she moaned, biting her lip while pinching her clit.  She came, pressing against the wall.  “Spock,” she said, needing it, needing him out of her system before he arrived.

And then she was not alone.  Spock was there, throwing open her shower door, filling the small space.  She dropped her eyes to his naked, erect penis and spared the barest of thoughts as to why she could see it.  There was no blank Vulcan stare; there was a darkness, a wildness in his eyes and he took her, picked her up and pushed her against the tiles.  The water covered them, drenching him.  He pressed her against the shower wall.  He was gripping his cock as he held her.

She wrapped her legs around him.  He stared into her eyes and found his way inside her.  Uhura bit her lip to stifle her cry and in a nanosecond, knew a pain remorseless sweet.

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