SO THIS IS IT. The Uhura/Gaila, Cumberbatch!Chapel, T’Pring/The Romulan Commander Star Trek reboot fic I’ve been working on my typewriter for… fifteen days, actually.
Basically, if I was writing the next reboot Star Trek film, something like this would probably be the plot.
This is somewhat inspired by two ficlets I wrote ages ago, one of them Uhura/Gaila and the other somewhat Cumberbatch!Chapel/Rand. I recommend reading them both beforehand for some additional context.
After Uhura found out, is took a glance and five words to end it. For matters like this, even with extenuating circumstances, there was no explosive violence from Spock. The whole thing was conducted in a very logical and civil manner, with a matched stare and those five words, meticulously articulated so to not misconstrue their meaning: “I can’t do this anymore.”
Spock didn’t understand the emotion, but he understood the sense of betrayal it conveyed.
Then it was over. Done and dusted. Spock holed himself up in his quarters and tried to meditate his horniness away while Uhura signed herself up to head a rescue mission to save his wife.
“How’d the Vulcan bitch get herself captured by a Romulan ship, anyways?” Janice asked for maybe the third time, sighing. She uncrossed and crossed her legs in the cramped space afforded by the ship’s cabin.
“We don’t know. All of our information depends on Spock’s intuition for this one,” Chapel said. Her hair looked extraordinarily beautiful today, Uhura thought. And her makeup was done up extra pretty. Uhura exercised the fleeting thought that Chapel must’ve put the extra effort into her appearance for the sake of impressing Spock, but he had not shown up to send them off, and Chapel had not seemed any worse for the wear because of it. In fact, her whole being seemed to glow radiant, filling the shuttle with a refreshing self-confidence that was so atypical of her.
Janice seemed to soak it all up. When she did speak, her eyes were only on Chapel as she awaited an answer. The two of them orbited each other like twin stars.
Uhura’s attention returned to the fourth occupant of the shuttle. Gaila lounged more than sat in her seat, her head lulled to the side, eyes cast to stare through the window at the passing stars. “Are we there yet?” she asked. She matched Janice’s sigh with a breathy one of her own, the movement lifting her breasts to strain against her uniform. Uhura watched her and remembered fucking her. In the end, that’s all it had been: fucking. There was no “making love,” or “sleeping with.” Just flesh touching flesh and the bare mechanics of sex.
Without the special drugs, Gaila with her pheromones in this state would be nigh overpowering. Only this time it was Uhura and the others popping pills and Gaila was clean, her full Orion physiology making a graceful return.
“The Romulans are going to love me,” Gaila commented.