Title: Lovely Angels, Dirty Pair
Author: Hypatia Kosh
Contact: athena_sappho@yahoo.com orhttp://hypatia.slashcity.org/slash/
Series: TOS
Codes: K/S, f/f, AU
Warnings: This is f/f, not m/m. You have been warned.
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Sure
Summary: JT Kirk and her loyal first officer T'Pock take on the alpha quadrant.
Disclaimer: Everything I have stolen belongs to Gene Roddenberry, Douglas Adams, Takachiho Haruka, Adam Warren, Marc Okrand, George Lucas, Leigh Brackett, Jeri Taylor, Takeuchi Naoko, Erica Friedman, and others . . .
Thanks to: Farfalla, for graciously giving this story a last-minute beta. Thanks, Farf!
Note: Some names have been rendered in Klingon using Okrand's orthography. For more details, visit the Klingon Language Institute.
A long time ago -- well, not so long ago, depending on your perspective -- in 1966, in a galaxy much like our own, the crew of the Starship Enterprise traveled weekly from planet to planet, spreading their message of good will and cooperation. This is not their story.
In an alternate universe we may imagine, Captain Kirk is not the dashing male commander of the Enterprise, but rather a liberated woman, and her first officer, the cold voice of science and reason, is the alien female T'Pock.
Naturally, everyone thinks they're lesbians.
And since I'm writing it, everyone might be right.
--//--
"Hailing frequencies open, Cap'n," purred M'Ret, the Caitian comm officer known less for his feline grace than his penchant for gossip.
"This is Captain J.T. Kirk, of the Federation Starship Enterprise. You, Bloodletter, are trespassing Federation space. Please state your intentions." The captain made her announcement to the familiar view of a starfield -- and the Klingon bird of prey poised before them. Finally the viewscreen resolved to show the red-lit interior of a Klingon bridge . . . and the ship's commander: in his lair, Kirk thought.
"Captain quIr commanding."
"A pleasure to meet you, Captain Coor," Kirk replied, with an obsidian smile. "Now, if you wouldn't mind--"
"It is an honor to finally engage the Enterprise, and the intriguing . . . woman who commands her, Captain."
T'Pock had turned away from her sensor controls to look at the viewscreen at the word 'engage.' Surely the Klingon would not prove so unstable as to provoke an unnecessary conflict. She glanced at the captain, who caught her eyes briefly. Kirk, as usual, was steel during such confrontations: what would come, would come.
"Surely the Klingon fleet also has female commanders?" Kirk asked in mock friendliness. Kirk silently prayed that the encounter would stay friendly. Her reputation among the Klingons as a deadly combatant was one thing; her reputation back at Fleetcom for supposed "brinksmanship" and "confrontationality" worried her far more. The Federation considered her kill rate to be an embarassment, not an accomplishment, as Admiral Komack had made very clear.
"Klingon commanders advance by merit, not by committee," quIr declared, rather than answering the question. He smiled to show off his carefully filed teeth. For the moment, the excitement of coming face to face with the alluringly deadly je'Siq qurQ had chased away his boiling rage at the incompetence of his intelligence officer, meng.
(meng, for his part, sat stoicly, realizing that his life expectancy was now measured in minutes.)
"I've heard that Klingon officers advance by assassinating their superiors," Kirk replied. She sensed the bridge crew tensing around her. T'Pock, Kirk thought, was probably already formulating an explanation to Starfleet Command for that last remark.
"When necessary," quIr said dramatically, showing off his most dangerous grin.
"You still haven't explained what you're doing here," Kirk said briskly. "If you hadn't noticed, you're well within Federation space."
"Shortcut," hissed the Klingon.
"I find it hard to believe that a vector taking you 37.4 light years into Federation territory constitutes a shortcut," said the Vulcan at the Enterprise's science station.
Kirk was pleased, but put up a hand anyway. Klingons were abnormally fond of a good show, anyway. If they believed her officers were just barely restrained from taking matters into their own hands and engaging the Klingons at once, maybe they would think twice.
Or not. "Our destination, like our mission, is none of the Federation's business."
"That's not good enough, Coor." Kirk changed tactics and smiled charmingly. "I know it. You know it. And unless you can give me a good enough reason not to, I'm under orders to escort you back to the Neutral Zone." She shrugged. "Willing or not. Now, personally," and she spread her hands conversationally, "I'd rather not. I've got a list this long of better things to do." Now she feigned boredom, "So, if you don't mind . . ."
Visibly enraged, the Klingon commander pounded his fist into his chair. "Nu not toy wit me, qurQ!" he spat. (Stress shot his pronunciation of Standard to pieces.) "Youur Feneration haS its Seqrets, ann we tlhIngan have ouurS!" quIr held his glower for a few seconds longer, then deliberately opened his fist. "We will be on our way, Enterprise Captain Kirk. If you wish to stop us, you will have to defeat us in battle. Take care that you do not break a nail," he said incongruously. He made a chopping gesture and the transmission cut off.
An ordinary commander would have wasted a few seconds wondering where a Klingon could have picked up such a distinctly human insult, but Kirk was no ordinary commander. She was on her feet in a second, looking to the science officer for her report. T'Pock was already getting the most out of the scanners. "He's preparing to fire photon torpedoes."
"Helm, prepare to execute 'DG' to starboard. Gunner, prepare to detonate any torpedoes he might fire from the forward guns."
"Firing!" T'Pock warned.
"Engage."
Sulu's practiced fingers flew across the board. 'DG' was a maneuver that would swing them around the Klingon ship while keeping the Enterprise's nose faced towards it. It was accomplished through judicious use of manuevering thrusters and did have the disadvantage of putting them a little farther out of firing range. The Bird of Prey could spin around too, and fairly easily, so they would have to get their shots in fairly quickly when they faced the more vulnerable rear of the craft.
"Torpedoes approaching," T'Pock announced. "Impact with closest in 9 . . . 8 . . ."
Kirk restrained herself from riding on the gunner. Mr. Li had only recently replaced Mr. Chekov, who was now the chief science officer for gamma shift.
"6 . . . 5 . . ."
Hit it, Li, Kirk prayed, we need a clean fight.
"4 . . ."
"There!" The torpedo lit up the viewscreen briefly, and the deflector screens flared momentarily, but that was it. Relief.
"Commander?"
"All other projectiles have missed, Captain."
"Coming into position," Sulu announced.
"Take out their propulsion," Kirk commanded.
Li sweated. One precision strike, and they could disable the engines by cutting the lines through a weak point in the BoP's shields. A miss, however slight, could result in the Bloodletter going up in the biggest fireball since . . . well, since Komack had found out about Kirk's 'accidental' destruction of a three-ship Tholian incursion two months ago.
No one on board wanted a repeat performance.
"Bloodletter is firing maneuvering jets," Sulu said calmly, as if unaware of the potential calamity that entailed.
"Computer control locked in and firing," said Li, envying Sulu's sang-froid.
"Bloodletter is firing aft phasers," said T'Pock.
"More power to forward shields," Kirk bellowed, as the Klingon's fire crackled across their shields.
She does have such a lovely alto, T'Pock thought with the part of her mind not engaged in the sensor grids.
"Mister Li?"
"Engines disabled, but I have cut off all --"
"Her shields are down 87%," T'Pock interrupted.
"Cut off their phasers. Quickly!"
With a few hits against weakening shields,the Enterprise gunner managed to shear off the Bloodletter's aft guns.
"She's coming about!" said Sulu. The helmsman had managed to compensate the last time she'd moved, but this was a full power burn.
"Tractor beam," Kirk ordered, and turned around to face the engineering tech behind her. "Hold them where they are."
Both ships rocked as the tractor beam took effect.
"Signal the Bloodletter. Demand their surrender."
"M'Ret!" T'Pock hissed at the inattentive comm officer, who had been instant messaging a blow by blow of the battle belowdecks. He jumped and reached for the ship-to-ship controls, flashing a careless 'sorry!' smile at T'Pock, whose returning glower foretold the punishments M'Ret would be due to receive after the battle. T'Pock spared a thought for the beloved, departed Lt. Uhura, who had left the Enterprise for a promotion on the Alexander. If only this Caitian had lived up to his species' reputation for focus.
"No response," M'Ret reported.
"Can we beam onto their ship?" Kirk asked the engineering tech, what was his name, An? Ng?
"Uh, yes sir. Yes we can."
"Security -- Mr. Leslie. That ship has a complement of 28 warriors at maximum. I need you to beam over and overpower them. Let me know if you need support. Once they're down, I want engineering to take control of the ship. And hurry -- you don't have much time."
Kirk took a deep breath and walked over to the science station. "T'Pock," she said quietly. As usual she clipped it a bit so it sounded more like "Pock."
"Jess," the Vulcan answered. Was her cool soprano a touch warmer when speaking to her captain? "At last scan they appear to be affecting repars to the power conduits. If they succeed in restoring power . . ."
" . . . our tractor beam is worthless. Any chance they'll self destruct?"
"Unlikely," she shook her head. "Not unless they thought it would result in our destruction. Klingons do not find purely suicidal actions honorable."
"Then what's this all about?" Kirk asked disgustedly, waving her hand. "Didn't anyone ever tell them that discretion is the better part of valor?"
"Clearly," T'Pock said, with the requisite touch of irony in her voice in response to a rhetorical question, "they were here for a purpose--"
"--and they were probably told to return with their shields or on them." Kirk looked up at the deceptively still hulk of Klingon steel spread across the viewscreen. "Let's hope Mr. Leslie succeeds."
--//--
Mr. Leslie was efficient as ever. Bloodletter was tamped down in a jiffy, with only minor casualties on both sides; but for one Klingon who was already dead. Doctor M'Benga dutifully complained about all the abrasions and contusions he had to treat, but as the worst injury of the day was a redshirt with a concussion, his post-battle complaints, Kirk noted, were rather half-hearted. Kirk does it again, she chuckled to herself. With a heady sense of victory, she collected her first officer to go interrogate the Klingon commander.
The Klingons were doubled and even tripled into cells, except for quIr, who as captain of the enemy vessel was given a cell of his own. If he was aware of this courtesy he showed no sign of it, standing agressively, feet planted apart, as close to the force field as practically possible, staring at his captors. Whe Kirk and T'Pock drew near his scowl became a sneer.
"It is well that the Federation makes captains of women, for the Federation are women, weak and soft-hearted. You could not fight a battle to the end," and now he raised his voice, "you are without honor!"
Kirk and T'Pock took this with an air of urbane interest. With a glance T'Pock indicated that the captain should speak first.
A faintly puckish expression blossomed across Kirk's face, before being replaced with something only slightly more serious.
"We can't always have what we want," she deadpanned, "You want an honorable death in battle. I'd like to be exploring uncharted space."
"What is this taking of hostages?" quIr hissed. "You are afraid to meet me in battle."
"Oh, that." Kirk grinned. "Well, it's like this: my superiors have been on my back for a while about my kill rate. It seems I've been a little too effective. So I'm afraid you're in this cell thanks to Starfleet bureaucracy. Have a nice day. According to . . ." Kirk looked to her partner for help.
"Amendment two, paragraph one, I believe."
"Yes, that's it, of the Federation Charter, today is not a good day to die."
"You are a worm, and your fathers were worms!"
T'Pock stepped forward. "You have been defeated in a fair fight. Insults are now superfluous."
"Insults," the Klingon growled, "are not super-- whatever-it-was-you-said. They are culture itself!"
The science officer raised both eyebrows. "I see," she said. She and the captain shared a significant glance.
"Right, let's get down to business," Kirk said. "What were you doing in Federation space?"
The Klingon did not answer.
"Don't be shy . . . and don't worry, we've got time. All day, actually. Until we get to Starbase 33, which will be in . . ."
"From now: two days, three hours, fourteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. At which time you will be remanded to the custody of Starfleet Intelligence."
"And you really don't want to be questioned by them."
"I would not recommend it."
"No . . ." They were both shaking their heads in negation.
"Starfleet captain or Starfleet Intelligence, it is all the same to me. Do you think you can extract information from a Klingon? You will have to torture me first!"
"You're not going to be tortured," Kirk said, adding quickly, "although you may find our food and music to be tortures in themselves."
"I believe they have discontinued the playing of music in SFI holding facilities," T'Pock remarked.
"Oh?"
"It was judged that forcing a prisoner to listen to Sinatra and Manilow, among others, constituted a human rights violation."
--//--
T'Pock followed Kirk into the conference room. "I'm still high on adrenaline," Kirk said. "That battle ended too quickly." She swung her arms over her head.
"Even after the interrogation?" T'Pock asked.
"What interrogation? We got nowhere, so we left." She clapped her fist into her open palm. "I want some action!"
"The dead Klingon bore the sigil of Klingon Intelligence. It is likely the crew murdered the only one with knowledge of their true mission."
That took the grin off the captain's face. She jumped back to sit on the table. "What a waste of time!"
"Perhaps Starfleet will learn something valuable from Bloodletter."
"Perhaps not!"
"It is unfortunate that we are delayed in our mission."
"Isn't it!" Kirk clamped her hand on a conveniently proximate blue-clad shoulder. "Klingons are a fine species, but they're always underfoot."
"Are you drunk?"
"Do I look drunk?" Kirk asked, looking straight into her inky black eyes.
"You look hot," she said, noting Kirk's flushed complexion. She tilted her head. "Do you have something for me?"
"Do I have--?" Kirk exclaimed, then dropped to a whisper, grabbing T'Pock's other shoulder and pulling the Vulcan to face her head-on. "Do I have something for you."
She leaned forward so they were almost nose to nose, and teased T'Pock by making as if to kiss her before pushing her shoulders down.
T'Pock laid her hand over Kirk's crotch, feeling a tell-tale bulge just about the hem of the microskirt. She glanced up. "This?"
Kirk spread her legs wide. "Take a peek," she said. She leaned back on the desk, supported by her arms. T'Pock pressed into the fabric as if testing it before finally reaching under the hem. She traced the outline of the panties, and made Kirk squirm by pushing the bulge into Kirk's crotch, up and down slightly . . .
"Take it out," Kirk said.
Restraining the hint of a Vulcan smirk, T'Pock lowered herself onto one knee and gingerly released the black dildo so that it bobbed free. With a sudden, quick movement she pulled the captain's panties down halfway to her knees.
Just as suddenly, Kirk sat up and dropped her booted feet to the floor, forcing T'Pock to scramble back. She looked down at her Vulcan; cut bangs framed an inscrutable face.
"You know what I want," Kirk said dangerously. She was answered with defiance in T'Pock's narrowed eyes. "You will obey, Commander," Kirk said in a voice which compelled it.
T'Pock frowned. She was not afraid of cock, but the taste of plastic was most unpleasant. "Your request is illogical," she said coldly. "Nevertheless," she said, voice softening, "you are my captain, the one to whom I have pledged my loyalty, and I shall obey you." Kirk felt her fluids gushing at those words. Blood rushed to her groin and the dildo became an extension of her own body. She wanted the first officer to suck her cock.
T'Pock opened her mouth and pressed her soft green tongue against the head of Kirk's cock, drawing a wet circle against the head. The thought of Jess carefully watching her every movement made her hot. She swallowed her pride and took the head of the cock into her mouth. Jess laid her hand on T'Pock's cheek, fondly but firmly, urging her on. No doubt about who was in control of this encounter; T'Pock felt herself get wet.
"Yeah, like that baby. Just like that." Kirk slid her hands over T'Pock's gleaming black hair, the thick strands that always fell so neatly in place. She pressed her palms over the cool, silky-soft and unmistakeable curves of her science officer's ears, as if to convince herself all over again that it was T'Pock who was stroking her shaft and sucking her balls.
It felt damn good. Kirk's clit was going wild at all the stimulation. She eased the dildo back into T'Pock's mouth and encouraged her to take it deeper. The Vulcan wrapped a hand around the base, pushing the base into Kirk's engorged sex and exerting her own kind of control on the situation. Kirk was aware that T'Pock was strong enough to rip the harness right off of her body if she so chose. Danger, and sex. They were an explosive combination for Kirk, who rocked right into an powerful climax. She lost herself for a moment, before finding herself holding T'Pock's head between her hands. She released her.
T'Pock rose in a fluid movement, and advanced on Kirk. While Kirk was still weak from orgasm she pushed her back onto the table and straddled her. She moaned as she crushed her bosom into the captain's. Jess arched and moaned under her hands. Pressing her advantage, T'Pock crushed her into a kiss. Her lips sucked at Jess' mouth, while her fingertips were everywhere, touching bare patches of the human's skin in some sort of Vulcan rapture. Jess lost it and thrust against T'Pock's slick vulva. Then, just as forcefully, Kirk pushed her up and away.
"You forget yourself," Kirk growled.
"I want you," T'Pock said. Kirk had to admit that T'Pock's voice was incredibly sexy. But she wasn't going to let this get out of hand. She sat up. T'Pock dismounted to stand on the floor. "Is there something you need, Captain?" she asked. The cool, metallic edge was back in her voice.
Kirk grinned cockily. "You're going to give me what I want, today," she said.
Vulcans don't toss their head, but T'Pock did, slightly. "What exactly does that mean?" She felt Kirk's eyes on her, working her up and down.
"What do you think?" Kirk challenged.
T'Pock walked around to sit on the table right next to Kirk, and leaned back on her arm suavely, crossing her legs and daring Kirk to take possession of her.
Kirk took in the sight with mouth-watering lust. "Turn over. On your hands and knees."
"Why?" the Vulcan pouted.
"Because I like you better that way," Kirk said smugly.
T'Pock complied, grumbling, "You are beginning to bore me."
"I wonder if you will find this boring," Kirk retorted, and hopped up on her knees behind the Vulcan. She settled her hands on the perfect globes of T'Pock's ass, and felt with her thumbs through the fabric for the very wet slit underneath. She sniffed T'Pock's crotch like a dog. "Smells good," she declared, and started licking and sucking at the panties until T'Pock jumped.
"Stop torturing me," T'Pock complained to cover up the loss of control.
"Never," Kirk said, and eased the panties down, revealing her prize, a glistening livid-green vulva and above it the second, puckered hole with only the slightest hint of forest green. Kirk stretched out her tongue and drew a sloppy lick across T'Pock's swollen pudenda and then, like the naughty girl she was, drew the tip of her tongue straight across the smooth skin and into T'Pock's dainty little asshole. One whiff of that Vulcan musk and Kirk was a good as gone. With two fingers rubbing up and down T'Pock's engorged inner labia she rimmed that little hole for all she was worth. She nibbled at the skin lightly, teasing, and delighted in the sphincter grabbing and releasing. She bit a little harder, and got her partner to vocalize. The sphincter contracted more violently, and T'Pock pushed down on Kirk's dripping wet fingers. Grinning wickedly, Kirk took her fingers away and reintroduced them where her teeth had so shortly been, teasing the entrance to the asshole and then pushing in. T'Pock couldn't take much more of this indirect stimulation. She squeezed her thighs together and pushed her hips up. Kirk's two fingers were in to the hilt, and they were being gripped in successive contractions that corresponded to T'Pock's frustrated cries. Kirk got a hard-on. She could feel the tightness inside her where the interior length of the clit was engorged with blood. She came up behind T'Pock and mounted her, drawing her fingers out of T'Pock's ass and pushing the blunt end of the cockhead into T'Pock's cunt. With her clean hand she reached around and cupped T'Pock's sex, pulling at the outer lips and squeezing. T'Pock pushed back again her. Kirk worked into a rhythm of thrusts, and T'Pock's moans became louder. Kirk could feel the way T'Pock's powerful vaginal muscles were working on her cock. Kirk thrust harder, knowing the Vulcan could take it, knowing she was well on her way to her second orgasm, and T'Pock was going to come with her . . .
T'Pock was in a state of utter abandon. She thrust against the invading cock, and into Jess' hand, over and over, working herself closer to climax. Her entire body felt loose; her hips were high in the air, her voice came out of its own volition. She felt herself getting close and then Kirk started licking her right ear . . .
T'Pock came, her mouth open in a silent scream, while Kirk got in a few more jerks before going over the edge. She grabbed onto the Vulcan's waist to steady herself as her sex throbbed and her guts turned to jelly. She was breathing hard, and the sweat coming off her body made her uniform itchy. A trickle of sweat tickled her brow.
T'Pock took a deep breath and reasserted control. She extracted herself, stood, and tidied her uniform. In seconds she was a picture of neat calm.
Kirk wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. With shaky hands she fumbled with the dildo to put it back in place. Her blood was still beating and her head was still spinning. "Lucky we're already off duty," she quipped.
"Will you be coming to dinner?" T'Pock asked.
Kirk shook her head. "Wait up a bit. I think I'm going to go to my quarters first, to change."
"Of course." T'Pock nodded.
Kirk tried to straighten her uniform, cursing her sweaty stink and fair coloring. It would give her away, while that Vulcan was always neat as a pin. She expected T'Pock would go, but when she looked up, she was still there.
"Jess?" T'Pock asked. "Will I see you tonight?"
"In your quarters?"
"It's my turn."
"I guess so. Insatiable, eh?"
T'Pock turned her nose into the air. "Vulcans prefer better than a ten minute fuck."
"Hey," Kirk said, slapping T'Pock's shoulder with a cameradic air, "I appreciate what you do for me. Tit for tat, mutual backscratching, and all that."
T'Pock barely suppressed a smile. "Tit for tat? I guess you could say so. Prepare to serve, Captain . . ." She turned heel and left.
Now there's a woman, Kirk thought.
Tonight was going to be even better.
THE END