"Just once," Kirk is saying. He's drunk. Nyota is drunk, too, and the music is a living thing, a throb that travels down the walls of the club and across the table and oozes into her wineglass. She imagines drinking the beats down, taking the pulses inside of her. Nyota is drunk, and Kirk is drunk, and she is looking at him and laughing. Spock is not drunk. Spock is…whatever he is when he's around intoxicated humans, which is awkward and kind of standoffish, to be honest. She loves him. She slides her hand over onto his thigh under the table, finds his hand and squeezes it to remind him. It's basically fucking, she thinks, but she's drunk and as such, as fucking such, she gets to be a little bit messy, a little bit human. He loves her anyway. He squeezes back. Because of, maybe.
Kirk claps a hand over his heart, feigning hurt at her laughter. She's not sure when this became a thing, them drinking and him propositioning her and Spock. She can't remember when it started, and it must have been gradual because Nyota knows once upon a time she would have shut that shit down post fucking haste, and he'd never have said another word. But Kirk is sneaky, and he snuck up on her, and now he's here, sitting next to her on the banquette with the smiling eyes and the booming laughter and the hand on Spock's shoulder and it's like…why didn't she think of this herself?
She leans over the table, slides her hands across it palm down. Kirk is looking at her, at them. She opens her mouth. He raises both eyebrows, expectant. "Why aren't we dancing?" she says. "We sit around all day, for god's sake." And she's sliding over Spock, out of the booth. She takes her time doing it, grinds her ass on his lap and doesn't much care how obvious it is or isn't. And then she's on the dance floor, and the crowd carries her off.
She doesn't look back at them, but the tingle at the nape of her neck tells her she's being followed. Gaila told her once they pump artificial pheromones into clubs like these, and she can believe it. An untold number of species chitter and murmur around her, but she's not collecting intel tonight. Nyota closes her eyes and moves, hips swiveling in time. The tingle builds and then there's someone at her back, hot breath on her neck and hands on her hips. She leans back, glances over her shoulder. He's so close it's hard to see his face. "You," she says. She's said it to him before but there's no malice in it now. Kirk chuckles and she can feel it in her chest. "Me." He matches the sway of her body, moving to the music.
Spock steps in front of her then, not exactly dancing but pressing so close to her that he might as well be. He takes her hands, and Kirk runs a hand down her arm and covers Spock's hand with his. Spock leans in closer still. "Are you amenable?" he asks. She doesn't need to ask for clarification. Pleasure uncurls in her belly. She laughs again. There's an endless supply of laughter inside her tonight, bubbling up in her blood like champagne. She runs her thumb over the back of Spock's hand, and she leans back and kisses Kirk.
He gasps into her mouth; she's surprised him. His kiss is tentative at first, but she opens her mouth a little wider and sucks his lower lip gently. He moans, and pulls her back against him. Meanwhile, Spock has leaned down to press kisses to her collarbone. He moves slowly up the tender skin of her neck, sucking and biting until she stings, up and up until he's met Kirk at her mouth. He touches her chin with his index finger and she breaks away from Kirk to kiss him. Spock hums appreciatively. Behind her, Kirk moans again, softly, and she and Spock part to look at him. He's moved around her now as if to get a better view, and even in the low, flickering strobes she can see that his face is flushed. "That's so hot," he says to them, and the reverence in his voice takes her breath away. Kirk's eyes dart from her to Spock and back again.
"Is it…can I…"
Nyota smiles. "Of course," she says.
"Yes," says Spock, low and dangerous, and Kirk kisses him over her shoulder.
It's unpracticed, tongues and teeth, but the intimacy is clear; Nyota feels a little flare of jealousy, but Spock is still holding her hand and she feels a wordless sense of warmth and belonging diffuse across their skin. Bolstered, she cards her other hand through Spock's hair, and the two men pull apart. Spock's eyes are unfocused, and he blinks at her as though staring into a sun.
"Do you want to get out of here?" she says.
She's a little afraid that beaming back to the ship will break the spell, that the bright light of the transporter room will bring shadows of doubt into relief. But there's a sleepy gamma shift ensign working the controls, and she barely looks up from her coffee until they resolve on the platform and she spit-takes at Spock in civvies.
"I knew the leather pants were a good idea," Nyota deadpans.
"Best idea," says Kirk, and then they're bombing down the corridor to the turbolift, laughing like kids. Spock follows, albeit at a more sedate pace, and she knows that it’s going to be fine.
Back in Kirk's quarters, Spock gives them a measured look and disappears into the bathroom. Kirk flops onto the bed, kicking off his boots. He pats the mattress next to him and Nyota follows suit. The buzz of alcohol is starting to wear off, and she's beginning to feel languid. They lie widthwise on the bed, sprawling, looking up at the ceiling.
"Lights, 60%," Kirk says. Then, "Leave it to Spock to go powder his nose so the humans can deal with the messy stuff."
She sits up, resting on her elbows. "Look, yourself, Jim. I'm not here for any reason other than that I want to be, okay?"
He searches her face as if looking for confirmation. "Even if you are a mouth-breather," she adds, winking, and his expression opens up like clouds parting.
"Invoking Gaila, huh?" he says. It's become a kind of code with them, talking about her. A way to say they're being straight with each other. They've tangled up the comm system and universal translator more than once debating in High Orion, but the results are always worth it. Nyota thinks Gaila would be tickled to know her memory was being used to negotiate a threesome. She can tell Kirk is thinking the same thing.
He smirks, giving her his most over the top come-hither look.
"God, that shit-eating grin," she groans, and kisses him. He brings a hand up to cup her cheek and laughs into it, and then they're stretching back out on the mattress and she's rolling on top of him. She hears the whir of the fresher door sliding open and sits up, straddling Kirk. Spock is standing in the open doorway, staring like a stalking cat. She arches her back, grinding on Kirk's groin, looking back over her shoulder at Spock.
Leather pants were the best idea, Nyota thinks. They leave nothing to the imagination.
"Hello," she says. "Nice of you to join us."
Spock has the good grace to look ever so slightly chagrined. He recovers quickly, though. "You've begun without me," he says, crossing the room to the bed. He slides his hand up the hem of her dress, lifting it to swat Nyota lightly on the ass.
"Please dispense with your clothing," he says, his imperious tone going straight to her core. Old power differentials die hard, apparently. She's never really said as much to Spock, but she's sure it's in there somewhere, catalogued in the endless reams of data he's collected on what precisely makes her come undone.
She strips off her dress, ops red but shimmery and draped in all the right places, and casts it aside to pool on the floor. Spock's hands are on her skin almost instantly, running over her shoulders, her clavicles. He leans in, kissing her neck, murmuring something as if to himself. She feels rather than sees his gaze dart down to Kirk, who's watching them with the same slightly gobsmacked expression he wore in the club. There's a second's worth of hesitation, and then Spock's hands dip lower, into the cups of her bra.
"Not fair," she moans, as he skates across her nipples, pulling at the black lace. "I’m the only one undressed."
Spock nips at her shoulder. "My request did not pertain only to you," he says. "However, Jim appears somewhat at a disadvantage, given that you are currently pinning him to the bed."
Kirk's pants are nearly tenting between her thighs, and she can't resist rubbing herself tantalizingly over the scratchy material one more time before slipping off of him. Eager to please, he makes short work of his clothes, shirt first. He pulls a pair of condoms out of his pants pocket and rubs the back of his head sheepishly.
"Boy scout," she says.
"They're new," he says. "They're not like my backup wallet condoms or anything." He shucks his pants and briefs off, and he's more than half-hard already and damn if his cock doesn't look like something Nyota wants to taste.
"Spock," she says, nodding pointedly at the regulation undergarments he's stalled in removing. He's staring at Kirk, too, mouth open like a fish. He snaps it shut when he realizes she's looking.
She kneels next to Kirk on the bed, and she shoots him a grin before dropping to hands and knees, crawling over to him, and breathing a hot little puff of air onto the head of his cock.
He makes a strangled sound. It's all the permission she needs. She takes him down to the root, stilling to give herself time to adjust. Kirk whines, and she can just imagine the look he's giving Spock right now. He's bigger than Spock, a little thicker and longer, and she relishes the stretch of him in her mouth. She slides off of him with a wet pop and takes him right back down again. A hot hand cups her ass. Fingers hook her panties and drag them down her thighs. She tries to spread them, but Spock leaves her hobbled so she can't go as wide as she wants to. He smacks her ass again, and this time there's a little more sting to it. She moans around Kirk's cock and he thrusts a little into her mouth, then stops.
"Please don't feel you need to restrain yourself, Captain, " Spock says. "I think you will find Nyota more than equal to the task." He's sliding his fingers into her; god, she's so wet, her body betraying how hot she is for this. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, and if she focuses she can feel the barest echo of his pleasure through their contact. Nyota hums around Kirk's cock. She can feel the corners of her mouth curl into as much of a smile as she can manage with her mouth full. Kirk appears placated by Spock's words, and seems to give himself leave to fuck up into her mouth in earnest. He brushes his hands over her head cautiously and she reaches up to grab one and hold it to the side of her head.
"She likes it, Jim," Spock supplies admiringly. He has three fingers scissoring into her now, twisting and reaching just the way she likes that. "It is--ah--it is logical to take pleasure in one's talents. And I believe Nyota to be uncommonly talented in this sphere."
"You jealous?" Kirk gasps. Nyota laughs around his cock.
"Hardly," Spock says, insinuating the tip of thumb between her folds. She's wide open for him now, working her hips back onto him shamelessly. She's beginning to feel impaled. "What have you heard about Vulcan hands?" she asks Kirk in a low voice.
Kirk gets it, because he moans and tightens his grip on the back of her head. "Fuck, that's hot," he says. "Tell me what it feels like, Spock," he says. Spock slides his hand in a little further, four fingers in her now, moving slow and deep. He doesn't answer. She feels the little flare of his embarrassment, because bragging about her talented tongue is one thing but this is apparently another. He leans down and kisses the small of her back, rests his forehead there for a second and she realizes suddenly just how turned on he is, how he feels seeing Kirk and her like this. Suddenly, the tone of things shifts, something about Spock's reticence giving her a flash of inspiration for how things should proceed.
She pulls off of Kirk, his cock hard and spit-slick and bobbing just a little. He moans and skates his fingertips over her shoulder. She presses a messy kiss to his thigh in apology, then glances back at Spock.
"You like this, don't you?" she asks. "Watching us like this. You didn't know you'd like it so much." Spock lets out a little oh sound and she knows he knows he's been found out.
"You want to watch him fuck me?" she asks, teasingly. Spock's answer is a strangled intake of breath, and she grins back at Kirk. "What do you think?" she asks him, and he boggles at her.
"Don’t have to ask me twice," he says.
Nyota smiles wider, devilishly. "Perfect." She sits back on her heels, kicking off her panties, and twists around. Spock meets her halfway, holding her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her cheekbones and kissing her like she's cool water in a desert.
"Nyota," he says, and there's so much in that word that some distant part of her brain screams with laughter at anyone who's ever claimed that Vulcans don't feel. She kisses him again, and the next time they part she turns around and scoots back up the bed to Kirk. He's retrieved a bottle of lube from a bedside cupboard, and she raises an eyebrow at him.
"Like it wet, do you?" she asks flirtatiously, and is rewarded with a blush.
"Dammit," he says, looking away and laughing. "I've known you how long, and you still fucking short my brain out."
"C'mere," she says. "Spock, you too." Spock crawls up on to the bed next to them, and Nyota runs a hand over his thigh. "Give me that," she says to Kirk, indicating the lube as she leans over to grab a condom. She hands them both to Spock, who looks like his own brain might short out when she squeezes Kirk's cock and says, "Get him ready for me."
"Oh God, Kirk says as Spock fists his cock with a handful of lube. Spock is deft and careful, like he's afraid he might break something. His hand shakes just slightly, and it's that little tell that nearly does Nyota in right then and there. Spock lets out a low moan as he runs his hand over Kirk's sensitive flesh, lingering a little at the head.
"Spock," Kirk gasps, leaning back on the bed and letting his head loll backwards. His eyes are trained on the ceiling. "Goddamn."
Spock tears open the condom with his teeth, unrolling it onto Kirk's cock and applying more lube. Then he withdraws his hands and pauses a moment, as if inspecting his handiwork. He leans in, steadying himself against Kirk's chest, and kisses him. It's gentler than their kiss in the club, soft and almost chaste. Kirk brings a hand up to the back of Spock's head as if to deepen the kiss, but Spock pulls away, turning to look at Nyota with an unreadable expression.
"If you're ready?" he says to her, voice hoarse.
"Yes," she says. She looks at Kirk.
"Yeah," he says, eyes unfocused.
She moves over Kirk, pausing for a moment because somehow this feels momentous, like there's no going back. She looks Kirk in the eye, and he's wide-eyed, like he understands. "Uhura," he says, trying to get her attention through the anticipatory haze.
"Yeah," she says. "I know." And then she sinks down onto his cock, sucking in a breath as he fills her up. She stills, settling on him for a minute. She's already imagining how good it's going to feel to grind down on him, and she feels so fucking full she can't stand it.
"Oh my god," she says. "Jim."
He laughs at the sound of his name, and beside them Spock makes an inchoate little sound. She glances over at him, pleasure thrumming through her body, and sees him sitting back on his heels, his cock flushed dark green and jutting between his thighs.
"How do we look?" Kirk says.
"Beautiful," Spock says, and Kirk begins to move. Nyota moves with him, circling her hips slowly and methodically. He wraps his hands around her hips, holding her against him, and she posts up and back down experimentally against his grip. The friction is delicious. She leans forward, riding his cock and grinding her clit against Kirk's body. She's close already. The room feels charged with sex; it's hanging in the air like moisture.
Next to them, Spock watches almost reverently, and she catches his eye and smiles. She's rewarded with the faintest glimmer of teeth. Spock is touching himself without pretense, and she feels that little spike of pride again, that she and Kirk make such a picture that he can't help himself.
"Look at him," she says to Kirk. "Look how hard he is, just watching us. His cock tastes so fucking good, Jim. Do you want to suck it? I…I want to watch you suck his cock while you fuck me."
Kirk gasps, tightening his grip on her thighs. There's a hint of trepidation in his expression, but he bites his lip and nods, looking over at Spock with an expression that's almost shy. Spock shifts closer, kneeling next to Kirk, who sits up a little and leans back on his hands. "Hey," he says, looking up at Spock. "Fancy meeting you here."
It's a little awkward, Nyota thinks, but no less hot for it. Spock guides himself into Kirk's mouth with one hand, Kirk licking and sucking as best he can from his semi-supine position. Nyota leans forward, braces herself, and begins riding him in earnest. Spock's hand finds hers on Kirk's chest, and she interlaces their fingers.
He leans in and kisses her, and she works her hips in tight circles, bucking up against Kirk. Kirk slides a hand back behind her to cup her ass, feeling the muscles work there. She feels strung taut, as if the three of them are hanging in some kind of precarious orbit. Spock's mouth is hot on hers, and he nips her lower lip, sucking it til it throbs. She imagines that he's mirroring Kirk's mouth on his cock. Then there's a little ripple in her head of something like amusement, and suddenly Nyota feels it, sloppy and fumbling and perfect. She moans into Spock's mouth, jerking her hips, and then she's coming hard, hand scrabbling for purchase on Kirk's chest. She breaks away from Spock to lean in and gasp out her pleasure, pressing her palm to Kirk's damp, flushed cheek.
"Fuck, Uhura, knew you'd look so fucking gorgeous when you came," Kirk says, brushing a strand of hair back off her forehead.
"You're not so bad yourself," she says, working herself on him to draw out the aftershocks. "Mmm, that's good." She closes her eyes, then opens them again, coming back to herself.
"So, speaking of coming," she says. "What do you…"
He bites his lip again, considering. "I want…can I flip you?"
She raises an eyebrow at him. "Sure," she says. She turns to Spock. "If you're okay?"
He nods. "Quite well," he says, in a tone that implies understatement.
She slides off of Kirk, gripping the base of the condom to secure it, then flips over, settling back on the pillows. Kirk, for his part, settles between her thighs. He leans over her, weight on his hands, and Spock reclines next to them. He's taken himself in hand again, fisting his own cock lazily, clearly in no hurry. He strokes her face with his free hand, and she turns her head to lap at his index and forefinger. He slides them into her mouth as Kirk slides into her, and Kirk and Spock cry out almost as one.
"You're so wet," Kirk says. "God, you feel amazing." He thrusts into her, shallow and teasing. She reaches down to skate her fingers around her clit, still blood-heavy and oversensitive from her first orgasm. She lavishes attention on Spock's fingers, thinking very pointedly about Kirk's mouth on his cock, of how it might look to watch Kirk take Spock all the way down his throat. Spock moans, working his cock faster.
"Tell me what you're telling him," Kirk demands breathlessly.
"I’m thinking about how good you looked with his cock in your mouth," she says in a low voice. "How I bet you could do better. You could take him all the way to the balls, let him come down your throat." She closes her mouth around Spock's fingers and demonstrates. She thinks of Kirk's hot mouth on Spock, on her. She wonders how Spock would look sprawled out on the sheets like she is, arching and writhing. With Jim and me down between your legs, she thinks. Working you open, little by little. Did you like watching me ride him, earlier? I know you did, baby. I could ride your cock like that while Jim fucks you, she thinks. She's never sure exactly how much he's getting when she talks to him this way, but it must be enough because Spock curls in on her, making a sound that's nearly a whine, working his cock frenetically. She reaches for him, their hands slippery and sticky, and then he's jerking his hips in a stuttering motion and spilling over her hand.
"Oh god," Kirk says. "Fuck, you guys, that's…." He trails off. Watching Spock come seems to trip something in him, because suddenly he's done teasing, fucking her intently, their bodies colliding with a lewd slap of wet skin. They're sweating now, all three of them; Spock's forehead is damp where it rests against her head on the pillow and his breath is hot in her ear.
Kirk works his hands under her ass on the mattress, lifting her hips and slamming into her. Her clit is a sweet knot between them, the contact just shy of enough, and abruptly she's chasing more of it, canting her hips up to meet his. Spock is muttering a litany of encouragement into the pillow beside her, and she worries the pads of his fingers with her teeth. The pressure builds and builds and breaks, and then Nyota's coming again, clutching at Kirk's ass and pressing him to her. "Oh my god," she says. "More, c'mon Jim, right there," and he obliges, grinding them together, and then he's crying out and pulsing into her for what feels like a very long time before finally stilling. He collapses on top of them, and for long minutes the only sound in the room is the pant of their breathing. She can't tell where her body ends and theirs begin.
"You are heavy," Spock says to Kirk at last, with a little huff of mock indignation. He shifts over to make room. "Quit whining," Kirk says fondly, elbowing Spock in the ribs. "Or I won't tag team you with Uhura next time."
Nyota raises herself up to look at him. "Wait, what? How did you…?"
Kirk grins at her obnoxiously. "No one ever thinks to check my psi rating," he says. "Comes in handy on poker night, among other things."
"You're incorrigible," she says. "Goodnight." She leans over Spock and kisses Kirk's temple, then lies back, resting her head on Spock's shoulder. Kirk has mapped the Milky Way on his ceiling in glow-in-the-dark stickers, and she traces the constellations with her eyes until she falls asleep.