Into the Valley ~ Hru'Fir #Uhura

Previously ~ The Eris Effect

Friday

With N’Tal came the good and the bad. The whispers were directed towards her now, as where the looks in the mess hall. It was a great relief for Nyota not to have all the attention. When she ate meals with Spock or went to his dorm for a few pleasurable minutes, no one noticed. No whispered. They had N’Tal to whisper about now.

She’s a spy; I bet you she’s a spy. She’s going to soak up a bunch of Federation training and then take it back to Romulus.

Her dad is totally playing the Federation. Romulans are too patriotic to defy the Empire.

Is it just me or has Hikaru totally devolved into slave boy mode? I hear he carried her padds for her all day.

Did you hear what N’Tal did in warp theory? She cursed out the professor when he corrected her algorithms and actually flung a model engine at his head.

Did you hear what N’Tal did in Intro to Klingon History? She told the professor Klingons were dogs and said that, like humans, they’re a complete waste of skin.

Did you hear what N’Tal did? Did you hear what N’Tal said? Everyone asked. Everyone wanted to know. By Friday night the Romulan was starring in every single rumor at Stellar Valley.

 “So you going to Spock’s room?” Vira asked, as Nyota sprayed on her flower and desert perfume.

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Nyota snorted. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The Trill laughed and Nyota was happy to hear it. Vira had been down the past day, and it pierced Nyota’s heart. On the other hand, Vira had made some new friends last night, and ironically, it was because of her over-sized brain. It had finally occurred to some students to that if you were cramming for an exam in a group, the smartest thing you could do was have Vira Zwan as your guest of honor.

“I have a study date with some kids from Holderby House,” the Trill sighed. “Professor Matar’s biochemistry has ‘em all scared witless. Brianna’s bringing Ktarian chocolate though.  The real stuff, not replicated.”

“Glad to hear it, V,” Nyota smiled at her. “Let me know if the boys in Holderby are cute.”

***

“Say it, Spock. You don’t like N’Tal.”

“After witnessing her disgraceful behavior in two classes, I must question your logic in pursuing her as a girlfriend.”

Hikaru Sulu snickered as he loosened his tie. “Ever the Vulcan. Which is precisely why you can’t see what I see in N’Tal.”

Spock raised an eyebrow as he straightened his tie. “All do respect, my friend, no one can see what you see in N’Tal.”

Hikaru laughed again, reaching to clap his roommate on the back. “She’s so wild, Spock. So free.”

“And extremely hateful towards humans.”

It was Hikaru’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “She likes me well enough.”

“Likes you, perhaps, but I doubt it will be enough. N’Tal thinks of boys in terms of ‘mates.’ Can you comfortably state that she sees you as a potential mate?”

Hikaru laughed yet again. It was seriously starting to annoy the Vulcan.

“Bro,” the human shook his head, “that’s part of the attraction—there’s a challenge. A human winning over the affections of a Romulan? Unheard of! Look, I gotta jet. N’Tal’s stuck in detention tonight, and I promised to help sneak her out. I have to hack into the sensors and program them to think she’s still in there. Later!” Hikaru called, before Spock could dissuade him.

He worried for his friend for a moment before his door beeped. Remembering his date with Nyota, Spock immediately forgot about his friend.

***

“Slower, sweetie,” Nyota bit out, her impatience growing.

She didn’t dare look him; she didn’t want to see the predictably perplexed look on his face. His right hand was buried in her underwear, and though she hadn’t needed to tell him what was where, he couldn’t seem to remember to rub in slow, deliberate circles—no matter how often she reminded him every other minute.

“Apologies, Nyota,” he nodded against her shoulder. “I’m afraid I got enthusiastic again.”

She ground her teeth, trying to quell her growing irritation. No, she thought, you got bored. You want to get this over with so we can go back to focusing on you.

“Does soothing often take such…extra effort for you?’ he asked mildly, confirming her thoughts. “I did not realize that females required such complex ministrations.”

Nyota snatched his hand and pulled it from between her thighs. She then rose quickly and straightened her clothes.

“Spock,” she began in a clipped voice, “these aren’t ‘complex ministrations’. These are slow. Deliberate. Circles.”

“I see,” he nodded, before gesturing for her to return to his bed. “Let me make another attempt.”

“No, Spock!” she bellowed suddenly. “What the hell is it? You can reprogram environmental controls, rebuild model engines, rewire computers—why can’t you use all that overdeveloped Vulcan brilliance to perform slow, deliberate circles?”

She stormed from his room before he could stop her. He followed her down the hall, where she impatiently waited for the turbolift.

“Nyota, please—”

His words only infuriated her further.

“Do you know what semen tastes like?” she snapped suddenly, not caring who heard or saw them (and there was some seeing and hearing). “Do you have any clue what it’s like to be on your knees, trying to breathe with your face buried in someone else’s crotch?”

“Nyota—”

“A circle, Spock! A fucking circle! All I did was ask you to draw a circle—something you probably did when you were two—and that nine-digit IQ of yours went out the window! Well, fuck you!”

Mercifully, the doors opened, and Nyota flew into the turbolift.

Spock didn’t dare follow her.

Saturday

He didn’t send her a message the next morning either; he figured evening was a better time to replicate her favorite dessert and track her down to apologize. Instead, he went to his usual Suus Mahna session in holodeck 8.

He entered and found his program already running, except it wasn’t his program. The usual wooden temple and impassive-looking teacher were replaced by a gray weapons chamber with burning sconces lining the walls.

N’Tal was waiting for him, dressed in svelte dark red, with her hair bound in a chignon. She smelled of strongly some smoky perfume and was carrying two long, curving blades.

“You are no doubt skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and trained to disable your opponent as humanely as possible, but….” She tossed him a blade, which he easily caught. It was ancient and lightweight in design, but no less deadly. “How do you fare with a real weapon?”

“How did you override my allotted time?” Spock asked patiently, though his patience was running thin. “How did you even know about my schedule?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” N’Tal replied. The fire in her eyes actually dimmed some as she moved into an attack stance. Her right foot was en pointe, with both hands in front on different sections of her blade. “Like it or not, we be of one blood. We are both descended from the same warrior race. So the question is: are you human, Spock, or are you Vulcan?”

Before he could answer the question he’d been asked so many times, N’Tal lunged forward with lightening speed. Even as he deflected her first strike, it fleetingly occurred to him just has slow humans were. Her next strike nearly cut off his ear. Her third strike nicked his upper left arm, drawing dark green blood.
 
Oh. His heart rate immediately increased, pounding in his side. He hadn’t expected such…excitement.

“A Vulcan, I can respect,” the Romulan rasped. “We battled you for one century, and you easily held your own. But a human—”

He had to bend all the way back to dodge the blow, otherwise she would have cut off his head.

“You mean, like Hikaru?” he hissed, his breath coming harsh. Already he was starting to break a sweat, and so was she. Their scents filled the chamber of weapons, and thickened the air.

“Hikaru’s misguided affections serve my purpose,” N’Tal replied. “When a warrior is alone, he must use all things to his advantage.”

“I am not alone,” Spock shook his head. How did she speak and fight so easily? She moved, ducked, spun, and wielded her blade as thought it were first nature. How long had she been practicing? At what age did her father first hand her a real blade?

“Oh, yes of course,” she snickered, “you have your human girlfriend. Does you take you into her bed? Open her thighs for you? Does she stroke your ears and bite your flesh until her teeth draw blood?”

Oh. Spock didn’t move quickly enough; she nicked his back, causing blood to ooze from a long, thin diagonal line.

How unfair, he thought irritably. Her words are causing a...reaction.

“Or does she cry, ‘No’?” N’Tal cackled. “Does she tell you to stop? Does she say what you want is wrong?”

“We are young,” Spock countered, but his voice clearly lacked conviction. “It is too early for such behavior.”

“Human lies,” she spat. “There are warriors in the Empire the same age as we! Seventeen is a not a boy, but a man. Does your human even know how to properly please a man?”

He thought of Nyota’s hands and mouth on him, pleasing and sating him. He thought of her patience, her diligence, her willingness to follow his urgings.

He suddenly was very annoyed with presence of N’Tal.

Instead of fighting defensively, he went on the offense, which took her by surprise. Following his instincts, he deftly handled the blade, deftly striking at her, using the momentum in every turn, until he finally drew blood, nicking the skin above her clavicle.

Rich green fluid dripped down between her heaving, sweating breasts, and despite himself, Spock had to admit it all smelled so good.

“You can smell me, can’t you?” she said softly, relaxing her blade a bit. “Just as I can smell you. Your skin is heating, your heart is pounding, your blood is as green as mine. You are Vulcan, are you not?”

She really needed to quit talking. Her words were exciting a part of him he hadn’t even noticed existed. He suddenly heard himself growling—really heard himself—for the first time. The deep, dangerous noise came through clenched teeth, and his fingers clasped the blade even tighter. He felt a sudden, almost irresistible urge to bury it in a chest or a skull.

He suddenly craved the feel of warm, sticky blood gushing out all over his hands.

All this time, I thought it was the human in me that I had to watch for, he thought fleetingly. When in truth, it was this.

This. That Vulcan core, that basic self which all his people battled all their lives. All his human hormones, all the lust they created were nothing compared to this. He could hear footfalls in distant rooms and hallways. Spock could hear N’Tal’s heart pounding in het side, and smell every inch of her body.

Kurik’s forbidden poems suddenly had new meaning.

“What about the Time?” N’Tal asked softly, almost teasing. “Have you told her about the Time? You are not too young; it is not far away. Do you think she could handle you like a proper hru’fir when you are claiming that which belongs to you and no other man?” She dropped her blade, taking slow, tantalizing steps towards him, letting him soak up her scent. “Or,” she murmured sensually, “will you choose someone who matches you in every way?”

She was very close now; he could feel her breath on his face. Her blood and sweat filled his nostrils, making his head swim as he worked to curb his growling and form coherent sentences.

“N’Tal,” he rasped finally, “you are right. I have not told Nyota about the Time. I do not even know when it will come. And I do not know if she will be able to withstand me. I do not know whom I will choose.” He leaned in to murmur softly in her ear, letting his breath caress her skin, letting his lips just barely brush her. “But I do know it will never be you.”

For the first time since he’d met N’Tal, Spock got see what she looked like off guard. She looked shocked and wounded, and was effectively rendered mute by his rejection. All that Romulan superiority and swagger ripped away to reveal just another awkward teenager.

“Congratulations,” Spock snorted, allowing a twinge of sarcasm to sour his words, “you’re one of us now.”

He shoved past her inconsiderately, heading out of the holodeck for Buskirk House.

Next ~ The Vagina Monologues

Comments