browngirl

Title: Strange Consequences
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Gaila/Uhura featuring a little tentacle creature. Spock/Uhura mentioned.
Summary: "I'm going to give you what you want. After you tell me." Written for this prompt.
Content Advisory: Non-consensual; Mirrorverse. Tentacles, bondage, bad language. Femslash.
Acknowledgements: With thanks to

ballroomblitz for Little Jacks.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Title from "Little Jacks".

"So you're finally awake," Nyota says, well after she can tell Gaila has regained consciousness. Gaila stubbornly keeps her breathing in an unchanged pattern, so Nyota turns from the desk and spends a moment just luxuriating in the sight of her, nude and shackled at wrist and ankle to the bed, spread out festively red and green across the blood-red sheets Nyota chose for today. Gaila surreptitiously runs a fingertip along one broad silver band, but these bonds are keyed to Nyota's fingerprints and DNA. It takes a little ingenuity to restrain an engineer, after all.

Nyota leans back and waits; she's always had more patience than Gaila, and soon enough a fine tremor starts beneath that velvety green skin, soon enough those lush breasts and that tender belly and those rounded thighs start to quiver, soon enough that ripe mouth draws down in a scowl and those sleek arms start to tug. Soon enough Gaila gives in and opens her water-blue eyes, narrowing them at Nyota, trying for daggers of ice.

Nyota just smiles.

Gaila tugs and jerks and bounces, thrusting her hips against empty air, and Nyota feels her own cunt prickle and moisten as she watches Gaila writhing as if being fucked by an invisible partner. Gaila grits assorted curses between her teeth and tosses her garnet curls -- unbound, because Nyota had to check them for hidden devices, had to run her hands through their springy silk once again -- and struggles until her skin dampens and her rich scent rises headily in Nyota's narrow quarters.

Nyota allows herself to bite her lower lip.

"Augh!" Gaila cries out at last, frustrated beyond imprecations, and slumps in her bonds. "Fuck you with your own hairbrush, Nyota, what do you want?"

"Eww," Nyota observes mildly, watching Gaila's chest heave, the bob and quiver of her berry-red nipples. "You know what I want, Gaila. Tell me."

"Or what?" Gaila snaps, hooding her eyes further, her lashes' shadows darkening them to blue smoke. "Or you'll kill me? I gave you your first knife, Terran girl. I'm not afraid of you!"

Gaila forgets, perhaps, that Nyota knows that she declares her fearlessness when she's most afraid. "You didn't give me my first knife, Gaila." Nyota steps to the bed to run three fingertips up Gaila's plush damp calf. "You gave me my favorite dagger. And my favorite scar." Gaila grits her teeth and hisses as Nyota trails fingers up her knee and along the toothsome flesh of her inner thigh. "And now you're going to give me the information I want. Tell me."

"Or you'll fuck it out of me? You virile enough for that, Nyota?" Gaila presses her head back against the wall and cackles, her teeth shining brightly under the half lights. "We Orions were perfecting erotic torture when you Terrans had only accomplished fire and mud! I can outfuck a dozen men and I can outlast you!"

"Oh, I know," Nyota drawls, turning back to her desk, pointedly turning her back on Gaila, "which is why I brought a friend." Gaila huffs in frustration but the cuffs don't even rattle, and Nyota takes her time reaching into the glass on her desk to carefully lift out the little creature waiting there.

When she turns again Gaila's eyes are wide, just momentarily before they narrow to glints but long enough to be seen. Nyota cups her hand around her passenger and strolls over, watching Gaila watch her walk, and holds it out for Gaila's inspection.

It's just a little thing, like a coruscating gelatinous olive, pulsing through every cool tone between green and violet and black. Darker speckles decorate it, delineating its translucent noodlelike tentacles as they spread and sucker across Nyota's palm. Two dots mark its apex, glittering little eyes like spots of shining silver, and it turns them upon Nyota and quivers like a scoop of fruit jelly.

Gaila looks, her fine eyebrows drawing together, then pastes disdain over her confusion. "Is that it? Some little squish thing? You should leave the interrogations to the professionals, Nyota."

"Security doesn't deserve you," Nyota replies, her palm full of pinpricks. She first met this little creature's kind when Spock bound her just as she's bound Gaila, with his own gold and black manacles, and laid one of its siblings on each nipple. They tangled tiny tentacles around and set their main suckers to her flesh, and then when they went to work it was as if her nipples were enwrapped in twisting wet electricity and prickled by a thousand pins. Unlike their adults, these little hatchlings retain their ancestral beaks, and each sucker cup carries a tiny stiletto in its center, not large enough to cause noticeable damage, just to raise torment to exquisite heights.

Spock told her dispassionately, once she was cursing in Romulan and writhing on his cool sheets, that they would suckle and tug after the nourishment of her flesh and her emotions both, continuously until he released her or up to twelve hours. She gave in to begging halfway through the fourth.

Nyota smiles, her nipples aching with memory and arousal. She knows she's more patient than Gaila. She climbs over Gaila's leg, which jerks harmlessly, and settles between those plush thighs as she did so often of nights at the Imperial Academy. She presses a kiss to Gaila's skin and smiles at the answering curse, feels Gaila stiffen and tremble as she strokes her fingernails through damp red curls and slides her fingertips into hot wet folds. "Tell me," she murmurs one more time as she reveals Gaila's clit, engorged pink already blushing through its pale leaf green. "Tell me what I want to know."

"No," Gaila says simply, between gasping breaths.

"Then say hello to my little friend," Nyota murmurs, because she's always respected the classics, and shimmies the baby tentacle monster off her palm. Gaila sucks in a breath as it tastes her with cautious tentacletips, trembles with delight, wriggles and flows into place; it fastens quivering onto her clit, twining all its tiny tentacles around, applying its main sucker with a miniscule slurp.

Nyota knows the precise moment it starts up with the prickling, by the way Gaila's hips rock up into the air and the throaty, "Fuck!" she shrieks. She kneels back between Gaila's spread thighs and watches her clench her eyes shut, press her lips shut, tremble and twitch and try to resist.

"You're going to beg me," Nyota informs Gaila, who clamps her mouth tighter as she thrashes her head. "And I'm going to give you what you want. After you tell me."

Gaila arches, letting loose a little scream. Nyota takes a deep warm breath of her flowing scent, settles in to wait, and smiles.