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browngirlTitle: More Than Ocean Water Broken
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Captain Jim Kirk/Dr. Leah McCoy/ a tentacle creature.
Summary: "May I present," Kirk says with one of his dramatic flourishes, "Curiosus flagellus, the sentient species around these parts?" Written for this prompt.
Content Advisory: Nonconsensual and threats of more. Mirrorverse, genderswap, tentacles, het.
All Thanks To:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
echoinautumn *blows kisses*
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Title from Frost's "Once By The Pacific".
Author's Note: Essentially, this is "Those Who Favor Fire" remixed with calamari instead of baked goods. Set after the final scene of "And Would Suffice".
Over the last few years, Leah's been testing when and where she can push a little on her limits. The run-up to a shore leave is usually a good time, because Kirk's got his hands full controlling the restless crew, which means more work for her in Medbay but also that he's not watching her quite as closely. After they put down three rebellions in fairly swift and undeniably brutal succession, the Enterprise set course for Wasat Two for their promised leave; they were ordered to stop at the Marfak III colony on the way, and while Kirk enjoyed his way through what little hospitality the colonists could spare to offer, Leah managed to sneak two regenerators and a box of broad-spectrum antivirals into the supplies the Empire so-generously doled out. In the three days since she's held her breath every time Kirk's looked at her, but she might just have gotten this one past him.
It probably helps that Kirk's been pushing himself too hard, like usual. He went back to full duty well before he was anywhere near completely recovered from the Jemnipi assassination attempt; Leah gave him her professional advice right up until his face began hardening from amusement to dangerousness, then skedaddled. Kirk hasn't once mentioned that she almost killed him while he was incapacitated, and Leah's beginning to wonder if perhaps it was just paranoia to think he realized her intent when he woke up in Medbay with her leaning over him and stopped her with a word.
It's probably for the best. Leah looked at herself in her mirror that night and decided she didn't want to willingly cause anyone's death. Not even Kirk's. Besides, Joanna needs a mother who's alive, however many parsecs away, not a suicide. Jojo doesn't need to be a traitor's child.
As she codes the biobeds into standby and powers down the Medbay monitors, Leah thinks of her daughter's laughter and smiles. That's how Kirk catches her, when she turns and finds him silently watching her from the doorway, leaning against the door slot. Her smile twitches and shrinks, but it doesn't fade, and he gives her that sunny grin that shows he's still under thirty, the glance through his long eyelashes that makes him look charming and harmless.
God and Leah know he's not, but when he takes her hand her fingers don't tense in anticipation of being squeezed too hard. He smiles at her, and she honestly smiles back; he asks, "Ready to go, Bones?" and she answers, "Yes, Captain," without any sarcasm. Leah follows Kirk to the Transporter Room and the walk's actually peaceful.
She's reminded of her misgivings when Kirk dismisses the transporter tech with a friendly swat on the ass and spends some minutes typing into the console. "Computer, confirm all transport requests with the Captain's commlink on voiceprint authorization," he orders, then indicates the transport pad with a sweep of his hand. "After you, Bones."
Brief apprehension twitches in Leah's gut, but what else is she going to do anyway? Stay aboard and catch up on paperwork, as if he'd let her? Before Kirk's smile can fade to impatience she steps onto the pad, and he follows, curling his arm around her waist as the first swirls of light rise around them, steadying her through the awful lurch of dematerialization.
They rematerialize on a sugar-sandy beach, warm blue water to one side, tropical tree ferns and scrub to the other, soft breezes stirring planet-fresh air. "Where's the crew?" Leah asks, looking around. Were they sent to the wrong coordinates?
"A few dozen kilometers thataways," Kirk says with a casual wave, and takes her hand again. "More or less. I've brought you here to see something special," he continues as he leads her beneath the broad feathery leaves. "A scientific curiosity."
"Well, thank you," Leah says, and swallows as her throat tightens. Something deep inside her grows more unsettled with every step through the dappled brush, and she's seen Kirk commit horrors with cheerful impassivity, but... it's not like he'd kill her in some remote place, rather than in front of the crew for maximum impact. If he wanted to kill her he probably would've by now.
So she follows him, not that she has much choice, on an easy little hike for perhaps a quarter hour, until the rustling forest air starts to smell boggy and the crash of the surf fades. Kirk whistles lightly, repetitively, curling the same phrase of notes through the air. It doesn't sound like a tune so much as --
Something curls and stretches across the path, as dappled as the sunlight through the trees, warm spotted shades of brown and mauve extended like a flying snake. Kirk stops, and Leah fetches up behind him as another and another join the wriggling length until a long tentacled creature flows and writhes its full bulk in front of them in a surging multihued cascade at least as wide across as Leah is tall. From behind Kirk she can only see his jaw tilt and the edge of his wide grin before he whistles that phrase once more and adds, "Hiya!" Apparently to the creature, and he isn't even palming his phaser.
"What in the name of--" Kirk cuts Leah off with a wave and steps forward, beckoning her as if making introductions. She has seen stranger things out in space, odder creatures and even intelligences, but this one's definitely up there, and she warily edges closer to the twining, seething mass.
"May I present," Kirk says with one of his dramatic flourishes, "Curiosus flagellus, the sentient species around these parts?" He waves her forward, though she'll be damned if she can figure out how to shake hands with it. "A particularly adventurous specimen, at that." Kirk whistles a fluttering pattern of notes, and tentacles rise and sway like snakes being charmed. "They love meeting other sentients, you know. Go on, Bones. Say hi."
"Hello," Leah says, and tosses a glare at Kirk, because this feels ridiculous, though for all she knows the Curiosus does understand Standard. However, it doesn't seem to react until Kirk whistles again, pulling its raised tentacles back into its throbbing tangle, warm sandy colors rippling across them in chaotic patterns.
"It's not telepathic," Kirk continues, his voice sounding subtly different. "But Imperial explorers worked out a mutual argot. My mother was on the second survey ship to land here." Leah blinks at that -- Kirk never mentions his family to her or anyone, it was Pike who told her his father was the Brevet Captain Kirk of the Kelvin incident -- and glances at him. He's taken two steps back.
Something boneless, strong, and vibrantly alive winds around her ankle. Leah gasps, trying to jerk away, and the tentacle tugs just as effortlessly as Kirk does when he's manhandling her, more of them surging towards her. "Let go!" she shouts at the creature as it spirals tentacles up her legs, wrist-thick bands of smooth muscle as warm as the air.
"Communication is key," Kirk continues as blandly as if his tentacular friend weren't molesting Leah, wrapping multiple tentacles around her thighs, tugging on her knees so she teeters, "especially with such an inquisitive species." He whistles a trilling arpeggio, and the damn thing jerks her right off her feet.
"Goddammit," Leah gasps, clutching a fernfrond's midrib in both hands as she fights not to fall, "Kirk, please, help--" She's twisting as she speaks, sinking as the frond bends, and sees Kirk just watching her with that same sunny smile, bits of sunlight glinting in his narrowed eyes.
He planned this.
Leah's a goddamn fucking idiot, she realizes, cold washing through her against her squeezed-warm skin as the tentacles win, surging up around her waist and wrists as she thumps to the loamy ground. "Oh, you bastard!" she screams before she thinks, twisting and thrashing, but what does she have to lose if he's brought her to be eaten by some alien octopus?
"I would dare you to say that in front of my mother," Kirk replies as Leah gasps and struggles, as tentacles bind her arms to her sides and haul her feet-first towards the main writhing bundle, "but I do like you." One of Leah's boots pops off, a tentacle wriggles into her pants leg and she hears a rip up her calf and her own reflexive yelp.
"What? What the fuck?" Leah can't even comprehend that non sequitur, she's too busy trying to dig her fingers under the tentacles around her thighs while they just surge under her palms, wiggling as if in mocking laughter. "How do you-- how can you--"
"Has our friend there gotten at skin? You should know they are touch empaths. And did I mention curious? They love playing with humanoids, we're so responsive." Leah's trousers are shredding, tentacles bursting the fabric and squeezing bruisingly tight around her naked skin, and a different kind of dread blooms in her gut. This thing doesn't want to eat her. It wants--
It folds a tentacletip into her panties' waistband, as delicately as a finger, and Leah shrieks on a flare of pure panic. "No, no, no no--" she screams as it drags her through the dirt, her legs vanishing into the twining mass, and she feels suckers hickeying her calves, her panties pulling taut on both hips, tentacles like squeezing hands restraining her wrists as she bucks and shouts, "No, get off me, you miscreant pile of slimy fishbait, goddammit, no--"
Like always, all saying 'no' gets her is an amused huff from Kirk as tentacles slide up beneath her shirts, ripping out her collar, squirming over her cheeks and nape and oh God her breasts, pressing and kneading her flesh with broad boneless rings of sleek muscle. "No!" Leah screams, hot tears searing the corners of her eyes as she feels her panties and bra rip away, and a tentacle shoves into her mouth.
Its skin is dense and faintly moist, thick and resilient, and it balls up in her mouth as if it knows not to set off her gag reflex by going too deep. There's air and tentacles over her whole lower half now, her shirts ripping up along her arms and sides as tentacles twist over her ribs and probe her ears, and the one in her mouth swells, forcing her jaw open until her lips strain and her eyes water.
And the tentacles are pulling her legs apart. Relentless pulsing bands cinch her thighs away from each other and towards her calves, push her knees up, flick over her mound and drag down her taint and damn the whole goddamn fucking planet but it tingles. The tentacles flex around her skin, sliding more freely, the one in her mouth curls slimy on her tongue as it begins to taste of distinctly alien protein, and Leah realizes the creature's growing moist, all around her. Growing wet with excitement, because it's got her.
Because -- holy fuck, she thinks hysterically as tentacles flick between her labia, swipe over her clit like a particularly thick tongue, rub concentrically over crinkles. She clenches as hard as she can, squeezes her hands into useless fists and tries to bite down on the tentacle pulsing against her palate, but the tentacles just pull her trapped arms beneath her back and her thighs apart till her hips creak, flick and squirm as if tasting her in anticipation.
Kirk snorts and whistles one sharp note, and the thing drags and lifts Leah entirely into its writhing mass as it shoves into her forcefully with twin crackling stretches. Leah arches and screams around the tentacle in her mouth, into the sheer massive weight of tentacles atop her, because of the sensate ache flaring within her and the tentacles squirming against each other inside her. Squeezing all over her body, twisting around her breasts and arms and ankles like tight flat hands, the tentacles haul her up from the ground, suck pulsing hickeys across her nape and back and ass, writhe and twine around her from soles to crown, rolling her inside their mass until she has no idea what's up or down or sideways.
The whole time the tentacles within her fuck her mercilessly, surging and ebbing faster and faster, feeling a little bigger with each thrust in or maybe that's just the rising soreness. The damn things bang on her cervix and pulse in her ass as they batter her open, sliding on the same briny bitter slime oozing across her tongue and smearing over her skin, and she bucks and twists but the tentacles hold and squeeze and thrust into her, entirely unimpeded by her struggles. Her face is wet and her eyes won't open and the thought flashes across her mind that this is like labor was, a physical process entirely unconcerned with her conscious mind.
Except that this time the physical process is an external fucking tentacle creature assaulting her at Kirk's whim.
As if summoned by her thought he groans, and she cracks a watery eye, her chest shuddering with sobs as tentacles crush bruises into her skin and pummel her in tandem, to catch a sideways blurry glimpse of him stroking himself through his trousers. "God, Bones, you're so hot when you're being fucked," he moans, "I can't fucking stand it." His whistle rattles sharply through her head and the creature turns and tumbles her, lifting and dragging her on a hundred pressure points, never once slacking its relentless thrusting or loosening its grip on her limbs and waist. Leah can only tell how she's facing when a lock of hair slides down her cheek, the sensation strangely clear in the midst of this slithering squeezing shoving overload.
Kirk's zipper snarling open is shockingly clear too, despite her muffled whimpers and his heavy panting as he steps nearer, despite the slick wet noises of the tentacles surging over and inside her. Leah's heart jerks sideways and a tentacle wriggles up between her squeezed breasts to press right over her sternum. There's a moment of sheer red-washed panic as it crawls up her throat and winds around her pulse like a living collar, as Kirk's hands brand the backs of her thighs, and then a painful sardonic twinge as she chokes a noise that could be a laugh or a sob. The creature hasn't left anyplace for him to fuck her, since he can't fit in her nose.
She hiccups another smothered laugh, hysteria rising as Kirk's fingers -- long, hard, undeniably built on a skeletal framework in contrast with the tentacles -- slide up and knead her ass. Kirk croons as he kneels between her thighs, maybe to the creature, maybe to her. He strokes up her back, his fingertips rasping each sore hickeyed spot, and sinks his fingers into the only part of her the tentacles have left unmauled, her hair. "Bones," he murmurs in her ear as a tentacle slides across both their cheeks, "this could be fun, you know, if you'd let it. I can tell our friend here just how to drive you wild."
Fuck you, you massively arrogant asshole, Leah thinks as clearly as if he could hear it, and struggles all the harder. None of her limbs budge a centimeter, but the tentacle around her ribs squeezes her breathless -- the damn thing's scolding her? -- and all her effort translates to a full body shudder Kirk can't miss.
He laughs against her ear, and whistles, and the tentacle abruptly jerks from her ass. There isn't even any time to wonder why before Kirk sinks his dick in its place, heavy hard pressure and burning fullness, straighter and blunter than the tentacle. He sighs theatrically, pulling her hair just hard enough for her scalp to burn, and Leah screams curses at him and this goddamn planet and her own idiotic self for not killing him when she had the chance.
The tentacle in her mouth crushes all her noise down to gurgles and spit leaking down her chin, her lips as strained and crackling as her ass, her body ringed with chill and fire as the creature pulses slimy bands around her and strokes Kirk through her flesh, as his lascivious groan echoes in her burning ears. "Fuck, yeah, almost perfect," he pants, squeezing her hip as tentacles squeeze her arms and thighs and breasts. "Just one thing..." He slides his fingers over her belly, denting the soft flesh there, and a little tentacle trails after his hand in an inquisitive echo.
Leah jerks when Kirk brushes her clit, and shudders, something shattering inside her head as she starts sobbing again, tears running down her face, her nose stuffing until she goes lightheaded for lack of air. She cries as he strokes her with three fingertips instead of two because one's a tentacle learning his pace, studying what he knows about her, as he pistons into her in counterpoint with the thrusting tentacle, as he drags on her hair and overflows with happy noises and his sweat and its slime drip and patter onto her back. Damn Kirk for learning her body so well, and herself for being so predictable, Leah thinks dizzily as the tentacles follow his lead and change their speed and she can feel the wave swelling and cresting, as she knows she's going to come for him.
And she does, as if she swallowed a grenade, the shockwaves bouncing off her tentacle-bound skin and fragmenting her insides; Kirk laughs as she helplessly flexes around him and the invading tentacle, and every single one wriggles and tightens, grinding her carpals together, compressing her ankles, bruising her everywhere. She comes in pulse after crushing pulse until they finally die away, leaving her limp and shaking, dangling amidst the tentacles, and Kirk whistles some command and just keeps going, her clit throbbing under his merciless strokes.
Something snaps behind her eyes, then, and Leah loses the thread. Sensation collapses in on her from every direction, throbbing in her mouth, fucking her sore, banging and twisting deep inside her. Hot and cold roll across her skin in patterns of squeezes, flesh crushed against her skeleton by the sliding presses of smooth muscles, fluid sliding cool over throbbing bruises in the creature's wake. Leah's ribcage heaves and aches with sobbing, her nipples and lips burn with chafing, she struggles and weeps and feels and feels and feels. Kirk comes in a wet gush and tentacles slide in as he withdraws, exploring her body gleefully, stretching her achingly until she screams. And she keeps screaming, as the creature remembers how Kirk stroked her and keeps stroking her clit, strokes her lips and eyelids and nipples too, makes her throb and thrash until she comes wrenchingly again and again and again.
Eventually it wears the buttons out, eventually she merely jerks with each searing stroke across her exhausted clit, each electric stab of sensation. There's a distant whistle beyond the roar of blood rushing in her ears, and the thing drops her, pulling out of her so quickly it tugs her flesh, unwinding from around her so she thumps down limply, face-first in damp loam. She hears Kirk's voice, hatefully cheerful, but can't even make sense of the words, can't make her body work when every attempt at movement sets off throbbing aftershocks through every bruise squeezed and pummeled into her.
For a seemingly long time, all Leah can do is lie there and cry, bitter salt all down her throat, one cheek against the dirt and breezes brushing cool across her wet skin. Eventually Kirk's hand joins them, stroking down her back, and what is her life that this all feels familiar? Eventually she can haltingly drag her thighs together, but the slimed way they slide against each other, the radiating ache as she closes her legs around her battered parts, it all sets off another wave of tears, shoving up out of her as if trying to tear something free.
With the last of her strength Leah makes sure her back's to Kirk as she topples over onto her side, curling up as best she can, and cries into the dirt. Eventually she sniffles down to exhaustion, loam and strands of hair stuck to her face and shoulders, and Kirk's hand soft and relentless up and down her back. Eventually he wraps his arms around her, and her flesh crawls under his hands but she can't make herself resist as he pulls her up onto his lap, leaning her sore skin against the abrading weave of his vest, her tear-scalded cheek on the hot hard curve of his shoulder.
Eventually he starts talking. "You know, if that med school thing hadn't panned out, you could've made a killing in porn holovids," he murmurs, brushing his broad dry palm over her face, his lips over her forehead. "You look so hot being fucked, I can't even begin to tell you." Something roils in Leah's guts but she doesn't scream, she doesn't tighten her limp hands into fists, she doesn't even puke on him. "I could watch you take fifty dicks a day."
Kirk's hand tightens achingly on Leah's shoulder, and she whimpers, and doesn't know which of them she hates more. "Maybe I will, or maybe I'll bring you back here to the spawning grounds and let them get a whole tentacle gangbang going, if you ever go around me again." Marfak III, she thinks dully, as Kirk continues, "When I tell you not to give out valuable medical supplies like candy, you listen, Dr. McCoy." Kirk wraps the other arm around Leah's waist, supporting and restraining her, hard planes of muscle and bone against the sense-memory of twining tentacles, and tucks his hand under her chin to tilt her face up. "Open your eyes, Bones."
Leah tries not to, but her eyelids twitch, and she slumps and lets them peel up. "By the way," he asks, blue eyes crystalline, "You tried to finish the job the Jemnipi flubbed, didn't you?" Leah opens her mouth but her tongue just lies there leadenly, dull alarm crawling through her crushed nerves. Besides it's not like she can lie to Kirk. She learned that long ago.
His grip eases just enough to let her nod, and his smile now is wide and almost warm. "I'm touched that you care enough to try to kill me," he says, and kisses her, her bruised lips aching beneath his. "But don't try it again," he murmurs against the skin beside her mouth, breath hot over the sore tear-tracks down her cheek. "I let Jojo go, free and easy, so that means my girl needs to behave, all right?"
Leah used to know how to growl at that, how to snap, how to insist she wasn't his girl. Now she just drops her chin and hauls it up, and Kirk presses a smile to her skin and kisses her again. "I just love Wasat II," he says as he gathers her up, hefting her as he gets to his feet. "Too bad our wiggly friends there don't take well to life on shipboard. Watching one work would be a fuck of a lot more interesting than that old Agony Booth, don't you think?" Leah leans silently against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, for the silence between doubled-thumps. "You're on bed rest through tomorrow until I come get you. I'm bringing Moreau down here in the morning for her own little attitude adjustment." Leah's breath catches, a throb of residual ache all the way down, but she can't force her mouth to open. "If she shows up expecting squid I'll know who ruined my surprise. Understand?"
Leah shivers, in Kirk's hard arms, against his hard chest. Moreau's a persistent pain, still jostling to become Captain's Woman and continually concocting time-wasting intrigues, but no one deserves this kind of violation. Leah thinks of telling Kirk so, of saying he's sick to inflict such a punishment, and all she can think of is being thrown back to those tentacles, tangled and squeezed and invaded again until Kirk decides, in his infinite fucking mercy, that she's had enough.
She forces her mouth open, but all that comes out is a sob, and Kirk breathes a pleased noise and kisses her forehead. "I love you too, baby," he tells her, sunny and maddening as ever, flipping his communicator open under her thigh. "Enterprise, two to beam up."
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Captain Jim Kirk/Dr. Leah McCoy/ a tentacle creature.
Summary: "May I present," Kirk says with one of his dramatic flourishes, "Curiosus flagellus, the sentient species around these parts?" Written for this prompt.
Content Advisory: Nonconsensual and threats of more. Mirrorverse, genderswap, tentacles, het.
All Thanks To:
echoinautumn *blows kisses*Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Title from Frost's "Once By The Pacific".
Author's Note: Essentially, this is "Those Who Favor Fire" remixed with calamari instead of baked goods. Set after the final scene of "And Would Suffice".
Over the last few years, Leah's been testing when and where she can push a little on her limits. The run-up to a shore leave is usually a good time, because Kirk's got his hands full controlling the restless crew, which means more work for her in Medbay but also that he's not watching her quite as closely. After they put down three rebellions in fairly swift and undeniably brutal succession, the Enterprise set course for Wasat Two for their promised leave; they were ordered to stop at the Marfak III colony on the way, and while Kirk enjoyed his way through what little hospitality the colonists could spare to offer, Leah managed to sneak two regenerators and a box of broad-spectrum antivirals into the supplies the Empire so-generously doled out. In the three days since she's held her breath every time Kirk's looked at her, but she might just have gotten this one past him.
It probably helps that Kirk's been pushing himself too hard, like usual. He went back to full duty well before he was anywhere near completely recovered from the Jemnipi assassination attempt; Leah gave him her professional advice right up until his face began hardening from amusement to dangerousness, then skedaddled. Kirk hasn't once mentioned that she almost killed him while he was incapacitated, and Leah's beginning to wonder if perhaps it was just paranoia to think he realized her intent when he woke up in Medbay with her leaning over him and stopped her with a word.
It's probably for the best. Leah looked at herself in her mirror that night and decided she didn't want to willingly cause anyone's death. Not even Kirk's. Besides, Joanna needs a mother who's alive, however many parsecs away, not a suicide. Jojo doesn't need to be a traitor's child.
As she codes the biobeds into standby and powers down the Medbay monitors, Leah thinks of her daughter's laughter and smiles. That's how Kirk catches her, when she turns and finds him silently watching her from the doorway, leaning against the door slot. Her smile twitches and shrinks, but it doesn't fade, and he gives her that sunny grin that shows he's still under thirty, the glance through his long eyelashes that makes him look charming and harmless.
God and Leah know he's not, but when he takes her hand her fingers don't tense in anticipation of being squeezed too hard. He smiles at her, and she honestly smiles back; he asks, "Ready to go, Bones?" and she answers, "Yes, Captain," without any sarcasm. Leah follows Kirk to the Transporter Room and the walk's actually peaceful.
She's reminded of her misgivings when Kirk dismisses the transporter tech with a friendly swat on the ass and spends some minutes typing into the console. "Computer, confirm all transport requests with the Captain's commlink on voiceprint authorization," he orders, then indicates the transport pad with a sweep of his hand. "After you, Bones."
Brief apprehension twitches in Leah's gut, but what else is she going to do anyway? Stay aboard and catch up on paperwork, as if he'd let her? Before Kirk's smile can fade to impatience she steps onto the pad, and he follows, curling his arm around her waist as the first swirls of light rise around them, steadying her through the awful lurch of dematerialization.
They rematerialize on a sugar-sandy beach, warm blue water to one side, tropical tree ferns and scrub to the other, soft breezes stirring planet-fresh air. "Where's the crew?" Leah asks, looking around. Were they sent to the wrong coordinates?
"A few dozen kilometers thataways," Kirk says with a casual wave, and takes her hand again. "More or less. I've brought you here to see something special," he continues as he leads her beneath the broad feathery leaves. "A scientific curiosity."
"Well, thank you," Leah says, and swallows as her throat tightens. Something deep inside her grows more unsettled with every step through the dappled brush, and she's seen Kirk commit horrors with cheerful impassivity, but... it's not like he'd kill her in some remote place, rather than in front of the crew for maximum impact. If he wanted to kill her he probably would've by now.
So she follows him, not that she has much choice, on an easy little hike for perhaps a quarter hour, until the rustling forest air starts to smell boggy and the crash of the surf fades. Kirk whistles lightly, repetitively, curling the same phrase of notes through the air. It doesn't sound like a tune so much as --
Something curls and stretches across the path, as dappled as the sunlight through the trees, warm spotted shades of brown and mauve extended like a flying snake. Kirk stops, and Leah fetches up behind him as another and another join the wriggling length until a long tentacled creature flows and writhes its full bulk in front of them in a surging multihued cascade at least as wide across as Leah is tall. From behind Kirk she can only see his jaw tilt and the edge of his wide grin before he whistles that phrase once more and adds, "Hiya!" Apparently to the creature, and he isn't even palming his phaser.
"What in the name of--" Kirk cuts Leah off with a wave and steps forward, beckoning her as if making introductions. She has seen stranger things out in space, odder creatures and even intelligences, but this one's definitely up there, and she warily edges closer to the twining, seething mass.
"May I present," Kirk says with one of his dramatic flourishes, "Curiosus flagellus, the sentient species around these parts?" He waves her forward, though she'll be damned if she can figure out how to shake hands with it. "A particularly adventurous specimen, at that." Kirk whistles a fluttering pattern of notes, and tentacles rise and sway like snakes being charmed. "They love meeting other sentients, you know. Go on, Bones. Say hi."
"Hello," Leah says, and tosses a glare at Kirk, because this feels ridiculous, though for all she knows the Curiosus does understand Standard. However, it doesn't seem to react until Kirk whistles again, pulling its raised tentacles back into its throbbing tangle, warm sandy colors rippling across them in chaotic patterns.
"It's not telepathic," Kirk continues, his voice sounding subtly different. "But Imperial explorers worked out a mutual argot. My mother was on the second survey ship to land here." Leah blinks at that -- Kirk never mentions his family to her or anyone, it was Pike who told her his father was the Brevet Captain Kirk of the Kelvin incident -- and glances at him. He's taken two steps back.
Something boneless, strong, and vibrantly alive winds around her ankle. Leah gasps, trying to jerk away, and the tentacle tugs just as effortlessly as Kirk does when he's manhandling her, more of them surging towards her. "Let go!" she shouts at the creature as it spirals tentacles up her legs, wrist-thick bands of smooth muscle as warm as the air.
"Communication is key," Kirk continues as blandly as if his tentacular friend weren't molesting Leah, wrapping multiple tentacles around her thighs, tugging on her knees so she teeters, "especially with such an inquisitive species." He whistles a trilling arpeggio, and the damn thing jerks her right off her feet.
"Goddammit," Leah gasps, clutching a fernfrond's midrib in both hands as she fights not to fall, "Kirk, please, help--" She's twisting as she speaks, sinking as the frond bends, and sees Kirk just watching her with that same sunny smile, bits of sunlight glinting in his narrowed eyes.
He planned this.
Leah's a goddamn fucking idiot, she realizes, cold washing through her against her squeezed-warm skin as the tentacles win, surging up around her waist and wrists as she thumps to the loamy ground. "Oh, you bastard!" she screams before she thinks, twisting and thrashing, but what does she have to lose if he's brought her to be eaten by some alien octopus?
"I would dare you to say that in front of my mother," Kirk replies as Leah gasps and struggles, as tentacles bind her arms to her sides and haul her feet-first towards the main writhing bundle, "but I do like you." One of Leah's boots pops off, a tentacle wriggles into her pants leg and she hears a rip up her calf and her own reflexive yelp.
"What? What the fuck?" Leah can't even comprehend that non sequitur, she's too busy trying to dig her fingers under the tentacles around her thighs while they just surge under her palms, wiggling as if in mocking laughter. "How do you-- how can you--"
"Has our friend there gotten at skin? You should know they are touch empaths. And did I mention curious? They love playing with humanoids, we're so responsive." Leah's trousers are shredding, tentacles bursting the fabric and squeezing bruisingly tight around her naked skin, and a different kind of dread blooms in her gut. This thing doesn't want to eat her. It wants--
It folds a tentacletip into her panties' waistband, as delicately as a finger, and Leah shrieks on a flare of pure panic. "No, no, no no--" she screams as it drags her through the dirt, her legs vanishing into the twining mass, and she feels suckers hickeying her calves, her panties pulling taut on both hips, tentacles like squeezing hands restraining her wrists as she bucks and shouts, "No, get off me, you miscreant pile of slimy fishbait, goddammit, no--"
Like always, all saying 'no' gets her is an amused huff from Kirk as tentacles slide up beneath her shirts, ripping out her collar, squirming over her cheeks and nape and oh God her breasts, pressing and kneading her flesh with broad boneless rings of sleek muscle. "No!" Leah screams, hot tears searing the corners of her eyes as she feels her panties and bra rip away, and a tentacle shoves into her mouth.
Its skin is dense and faintly moist, thick and resilient, and it balls up in her mouth as if it knows not to set off her gag reflex by going too deep. There's air and tentacles over her whole lower half now, her shirts ripping up along her arms and sides as tentacles twist over her ribs and probe her ears, and the one in her mouth swells, forcing her jaw open until her lips strain and her eyes water.
And the tentacles are pulling her legs apart. Relentless pulsing bands cinch her thighs away from each other and towards her calves, push her knees up, flick over her mound and drag down her taint and damn the whole goddamn fucking planet but it tingles. The tentacles flex around her skin, sliding more freely, the one in her mouth curls slimy on her tongue as it begins to taste of distinctly alien protein, and Leah realizes the creature's growing moist, all around her. Growing wet with excitement, because it's got her.
Because -- holy fuck, she thinks hysterically as tentacles flick between her labia, swipe over her clit like a particularly thick tongue, rub concentrically over crinkles. She clenches as hard as she can, squeezes her hands into useless fists and tries to bite down on the tentacle pulsing against her palate, but the tentacles just pull her trapped arms beneath her back and her thighs apart till her hips creak, flick and squirm as if tasting her in anticipation.
Kirk snorts and whistles one sharp note, and the thing drags and lifts Leah entirely into its writhing mass as it shoves into her forcefully with twin crackling stretches. Leah arches and screams around the tentacle in her mouth, into the sheer massive weight of tentacles atop her, because of the sensate ache flaring within her and the tentacles squirming against each other inside her. Squeezing all over her body, twisting around her breasts and arms and ankles like tight flat hands, the tentacles haul her up from the ground, suck pulsing hickeys across her nape and back and ass, writhe and twine around her from soles to crown, rolling her inside their mass until she has no idea what's up or down or sideways.
The whole time the tentacles within her fuck her mercilessly, surging and ebbing faster and faster, feeling a little bigger with each thrust in or maybe that's just the rising soreness. The damn things bang on her cervix and pulse in her ass as they batter her open, sliding on the same briny bitter slime oozing across her tongue and smearing over her skin, and she bucks and twists but the tentacles hold and squeeze and thrust into her, entirely unimpeded by her struggles. Her face is wet and her eyes won't open and the thought flashes across her mind that this is like labor was, a physical process entirely unconcerned with her conscious mind.
Except that this time the physical process is an external fucking tentacle creature assaulting her at Kirk's whim.
As if summoned by her thought he groans, and she cracks a watery eye, her chest shuddering with sobs as tentacles crush bruises into her skin and pummel her in tandem, to catch a sideways blurry glimpse of him stroking himself through his trousers. "God, Bones, you're so hot when you're being fucked," he moans, "I can't fucking stand it." His whistle rattles sharply through her head and the creature turns and tumbles her, lifting and dragging her on a hundred pressure points, never once slacking its relentless thrusting or loosening its grip on her limbs and waist. Leah can only tell how she's facing when a lock of hair slides down her cheek, the sensation strangely clear in the midst of this slithering squeezing shoving overload.
Kirk's zipper snarling open is shockingly clear too, despite her muffled whimpers and his heavy panting as he steps nearer, despite the slick wet noises of the tentacles surging over and inside her. Leah's heart jerks sideways and a tentacle wriggles up between her squeezed breasts to press right over her sternum. There's a moment of sheer red-washed panic as it crawls up her throat and winds around her pulse like a living collar, as Kirk's hands brand the backs of her thighs, and then a painful sardonic twinge as she chokes a noise that could be a laugh or a sob. The creature hasn't left anyplace for him to fuck her, since he can't fit in her nose.
She hiccups another smothered laugh, hysteria rising as Kirk's fingers -- long, hard, undeniably built on a skeletal framework in contrast with the tentacles -- slide up and knead her ass. Kirk croons as he kneels between her thighs, maybe to the creature, maybe to her. He strokes up her back, his fingertips rasping each sore hickeyed spot, and sinks his fingers into the only part of her the tentacles have left unmauled, her hair. "Bones," he murmurs in her ear as a tentacle slides across both their cheeks, "this could be fun, you know, if you'd let it. I can tell our friend here just how to drive you wild."
Fuck you, you massively arrogant asshole, Leah thinks as clearly as if he could hear it, and struggles all the harder. None of her limbs budge a centimeter, but the tentacle around her ribs squeezes her breathless -- the damn thing's scolding her? -- and all her effort translates to a full body shudder Kirk can't miss.
He laughs against her ear, and whistles, and the tentacle abruptly jerks from her ass. There isn't even any time to wonder why before Kirk sinks his dick in its place, heavy hard pressure and burning fullness, straighter and blunter than the tentacle. He sighs theatrically, pulling her hair just hard enough for her scalp to burn, and Leah screams curses at him and this goddamn planet and her own idiotic self for not killing him when she had the chance.
The tentacle in her mouth crushes all her noise down to gurgles and spit leaking down her chin, her lips as strained and crackling as her ass, her body ringed with chill and fire as the creature pulses slimy bands around her and strokes Kirk through her flesh, as his lascivious groan echoes in her burning ears. "Fuck, yeah, almost perfect," he pants, squeezing her hip as tentacles squeeze her arms and thighs and breasts. "Just one thing..." He slides his fingers over her belly, denting the soft flesh there, and a little tentacle trails after his hand in an inquisitive echo.
Leah jerks when Kirk brushes her clit, and shudders, something shattering inside her head as she starts sobbing again, tears running down her face, her nose stuffing until she goes lightheaded for lack of air. She cries as he strokes her with three fingertips instead of two because one's a tentacle learning his pace, studying what he knows about her, as he pistons into her in counterpoint with the thrusting tentacle, as he drags on her hair and overflows with happy noises and his sweat and its slime drip and patter onto her back. Damn Kirk for learning her body so well, and herself for being so predictable, Leah thinks dizzily as the tentacles follow his lead and change their speed and she can feel the wave swelling and cresting, as she knows she's going to come for him.
And she does, as if she swallowed a grenade, the shockwaves bouncing off her tentacle-bound skin and fragmenting her insides; Kirk laughs as she helplessly flexes around him and the invading tentacle, and every single one wriggles and tightens, grinding her carpals together, compressing her ankles, bruising her everywhere. She comes in pulse after crushing pulse until they finally die away, leaving her limp and shaking, dangling amidst the tentacles, and Kirk whistles some command and just keeps going, her clit throbbing under his merciless strokes.
Something snaps behind her eyes, then, and Leah loses the thread. Sensation collapses in on her from every direction, throbbing in her mouth, fucking her sore, banging and twisting deep inside her. Hot and cold roll across her skin in patterns of squeezes, flesh crushed against her skeleton by the sliding presses of smooth muscles, fluid sliding cool over throbbing bruises in the creature's wake. Leah's ribcage heaves and aches with sobbing, her nipples and lips burn with chafing, she struggles and weeps and feels and feels and feels. Kirk comes in a wet gush and tentacles slide in as he withdraws, exploring her body gleefully, stretching her achingly until she screams. And she keeps screaming, as the creature remembers how Kirk stroked her and keeps stroking her clit, strokes her lips and eyelids and nipples too, makes her throb and thrash until she comes wrenchingly again and again and again.
Eventually it wears the buttons out, eventually she merely jerks with each searing stroke across her exhausted clit, each electric stab of sensation. There's a distant whistle beyond the roar of blood rushing in her ears, and the thing drops her, pulling out of her so quickly it tugs her flesh, unwinding from around her so she thumps down limply, face-first in damp loam. She hears Kirk's voice, hatefully cheerful, but can't even make sense of the words, can't make her body work when every attempt at movement sets off throbbing aftershocks through every bruise squeezed and pummeled into her.
For a seemingly long time, all Leah can do is lie there and cry, bitter salt all down her throat, one cheek against the dirt and breezes brushing cool across her wet skin. Eventually Kirk's hand joins them, stroking down her back, and what is her life that this all feels familiar? Eventually she can haltingly drag her thighs together, but the slimed way they slide against each other, the radiating ache as she closes her legs around her battered parts, it all sets off another wave of tears, shoving up out of her as if trying to tear something free.
With the last of her strength Leah makes sure her back's to Kirk as she topples over onto her side, curling up as best she can, and cries into the dirt. Eventually she sniffles down to exhaustion, loam and strands of hair stuck to her face and shoulders, and Kirk's hand soft and relentless up and down her back. Eventually he wraps his arms around her, and her flesh crawls under his hands but she can't make herself resist as he pulls her up onto his lap, leaning her sore skin against the abrading weave of his vest, her tear-scalded cheek on the hot hard curve of his shoulder.
Eventually he starts talking. "You know, if that med school thing hadn't panned out, you could've made a killing in porn holovids," he murmurs, brushing his broad dry palm over her face, his lips over her forehead. "You look so hot being fucked, I can't even begin to tell you." Something roils in Leah's guts but she doesn't scream, she doesn't tighten her limp hands into fists, she doesn't even puke on him. "I could watch you take fifty dicks a day."
Kirk's hand tightens achingly on Leah's shoulder, and she whimpers, and doesn't know which of them she hates more. "Maybe I will, or maybe I'll bring you back here to the spawning grounds and let them get a whole tentacle gangbang going, if you ever go around me again." Marfak III, she thinks dully, as Kirk continues, "When I tell you not to give out valuable medical supplies like candy, you listen, Dr. McCoy." Kirk wraps the other arm around Leah's waist, supporting and restraining her, hard planes of muscle and bone against the sense-memory of twining tentacles, and tucks his hand under her chin to tilt her face up. "Open your eyes, Bones."
Leah tries not to, but her eyelids twitch, and she slumps and lets them peel up. "By the way," he asks, blue eyes crystalline, "You tried to finish the job the Jemnipi flubbed, didn't you?" Leah opens her mouth but her tongue just lies there leadenly, dull alarm crawling through her crushed nerves. Besides it's not like she can lie to Kirk. She learned that long ago.
His grip eases just enough to let her nod, and his smile now is wide and almost warm. "I'm touched that you care enough to try to kill me," he says, and kisses her, her bruised lips aching beneath his. "But don't try it again," he murmurs against the skin beside her mouth, breath hot over the sore tear-tracks down her cheek. "I let Jojo go, free and easy, so that means my girl needs to behave, all right?"
Leah used to know how to growl at that, how to snap, how to insist she wasn't his girl. Now she just drops her chin and hauls it up, and Kirk presses a smile to her skin and kisses her again. "I just love Wasat II," he says as he gathers her up, hefting her as he gets to his feet. "Too bad our wiggly friends there don't take well to life on shipboard. Watching one work would be a fuck of a lot more interesting than that old Agony Booth, don't you think?" Leah leans silently against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, for the silence between doubled-thumps. "You're on bed rest through tomorrow until I come get you. I'm bringing Moreau down here in the morning for her own little attitude adjustment." Leah's breath catches, a throb of residual ache all the way down, but she can't force her mouth to open. "If she shows up expecting squid I'll know who ruined my surprise. Understand?"
Leah shivers, in Kirk's hard arms, against his hard chest. Moreau's a persistent pain, still jostling to become Captain's Woman and continually concocting time-wasting intrigues, but no one deserves this kind of violation. Leah thinks of telling Kirk so, of saying he's sick to inflict such a punishment, and all she can think of is being thrown back to those tentacles, tangled and squeezed and invaded again until Kirk decides, in his infinite fucking mercy, that she's had enough.
She forces her mouth open, but all that comes out is a sob, and Kirk breathes a pleased noise and kisses her forehead. "I love you too, baby," he tells her, sunny and maddening as ever, flipping his communicator open under her thigh. "Enterprise, two to beam up."
