Wednesday, February 5, 2014

A Hikaru Sulu Lemon -- When Stars Die

Character: Hikaru Sulu

Fandom: Star Trek: 2009-2013

OC: Clara Baker, Starfleet medic, long legs, wears glasses

Inspiration: Clara notices that Hikaru is hurt and takes matters into her own hands~

Clara found herself admiring Hikaru Sulu on more than one occasion.  Not everyone could pilot a ship as large as the Enterprise and have so many other fine qualities to boot.  (Fighting skills, an easy personality, and gorgeous physical attributes to name only three.)  And yet he had one major flaw as well: Hikaru Sulu would not admit he was hurt even if his arm was half severed from the rest of his body.  It drove Clara crazy.
"That needs stitches, you know," she said dryly, having encountered him in the halls near the medic bay.  (Probably hurrying off to the bridge before anyone could intercede.)  She noticed how his eyes closed briefly, like he was trying to calm down at having gotten caught, and rolled her eyes.  "It'll scar if you don't get it treated," she tried again, hoping he would see sense and turn around on his own accord.  He didn't.  She couldn’t say that she was surprised.
"Oh for God's sake," she muttered, tossing her clipboard onto a nearby metal table and then reached for his arm.  She clutched it tightly and sent him a withering stare when he tried to immediately pull away.  "I have to get back to the bridge," he argued, looking helplessly toward the lift on the other side of the hallway.  "I can get it fixed up later - I really have to go - "  But his words had zero effect on Clara.  She only dragged him along and then shuffled through her pocket before pulling out her ID card and waving it in front of what must have been her personal room.  Hikaru opened his mouth in surprise but then he was being forced inside and the door was closing.
"Sit down," Clara nodded at the chair by her desk.  He sullenly drifted over to it, peering around the room like it was a prison and he its captor.  He sat down and watched the normally shy and quiet young woman pull out a medic box from her closet.  He hardly had time to wonder at her before Clara was stepping towards him and pulling herself up onto the desk.  It was such an unexpected move that Hikaru stared wide eyed and she chuckled a little.
"What?" she asked lightly, opening the box and looking through it.  She seemed to give no mind at all to the rather precarious position they were in, and certainly not to the reactions that Hikaru was struggling with as a result.  Clara glanced up at him and then leaned forward.  She reached out for his face, and her fingers were so gentle that Hikaru had to remind himself that she was acting as his doctor right now, not his lover.  Never his lover.  She murmured a soft, "Six or seven stitches, I think," that wavered right over his mouth and made it dry.  And then she pulled back and the torture began.
It didn't last long, though.  Clara was as gentle in administering treatment as she was in conversation and everything else she did.  She worked with quick, fast fingers and was finished before Hikaru even knew it was over.  And yet even though stitches were slightly painful, he didn't want it to stop.  Didn't want those lover's fingers to stop tilting his chin back, rubbing soothing circles beneath his eye and along the crease of his hairline. 
Clara nodded at her work and smiled softly, "That wasn't so terrible, was it?"  He watched with dark eyes as she began putting her equipment away.  She closed the box, turned back to him, and seemed to suddenly notice the way she was hovering over him, with one foot pressed against his outer thigh to hold up her weight.  That he was enjoyed to see the slight blush of her cheeks was an understatement if ever there was one. 
They stared at each other for a long moment seemed to never have an end.  And then Clara impulsively leaned down and pressed her lips above the stitched wound on his brow.  And the innocence of the moment was immediately sheared away, replaced by an intensely burning desire that did little to quell the already searing nature of their bodies.  Clara slowly drew back and locked her eyes with Hikaru's.  Whatever she saw in his gaze, whatever passion or half built desire held him there, it seemed to give her the courage to do the one thing Hikaru had never been able to do.  She ducked her mouth and pressed it against his in a solid, firm kiss.
The moment her mouth touched his, the dam of Hikaru's emotions shattered.  He shoved forward too, taking her off guard from the force of his mouth.  His hands reached up to finally touch those legs, to curl around her thighs and sink against her hips.  Clara made a short noise against his mouth and laughed, murmuring against into the kiss, "Am I to assume you've been waiting for this?"  And he grinned, "You have no idea…"  She made a pleased noise and he slowly stood up, feeling the lovely sting of power as he hovered above her, and then shoved her legs around his waist and dragged her flush against him.  She whined at the hardening feel of his would-be erection splaying against the thin fabric of his uniform.
Their lips were bruised, the faces flushed, and her hair was already mussed and lovely from the way his fingers were tugging her into him.  Hikaru drew back for a moment to stare down at her, at the way he was nestled perfectly within her long legs, in a position he had only dreamt of before that moment.  He heaved out a contented sigh and rested his forehead against Clara's, searching her face and imprinting her expression into his memory.  She dragged her fingers through his hair and leaned into kiss him again.  Against his mouth, she wondered cheekily, "Don't you have to be on the bridge?"
Hikaru scoffed and kissed her harder, effectively shutting her up.  Then he was suddenly lifting her into the air, his hands folded over her butt as he heaved her against him, and he threw her and all his weight against a nearby wall and said huskily, "They've got other pilots."  He watched her moan with twisted satisfaction, watched the way she reacted to his circling, slightly bucking hips.  "Why?  You don't want this?"  And when she glared at him through those uncharacteristically fiery eyes, Hikaru was filled with an intense desire to dominate her and put her in her place.
"No, I - Ah!  I w-want this - " she gasped as he swallowed that delicious little sound, kissing her heatedly, dragging her lower lip into his mouth and running his tongue over it.  Then he pushed his tongue against hers and nearly moaned at the smooth way they rubbed over each other, much like the movements of their lower bodies. 
He was hard now and he could see that this little fact didn't go unnoticed.  It was fairly amazing how Clara was reacting to him, and Hikaru intended to put said reactions to good use.  Moments later he was shifting his hands into her pants and easing them down her hips, and she was gasping because once again she wasn't expecting that but certainly wasn't complaining.
"Your shirt," he gruffly muttered, and the lowered Clara to the floor so as to properly deal with those pants.  He forced them down those smooth legs as she forced her shirt up and over her head.  And he kissed his way back up her body, wanting to take his time but knowing that he did actually have to be on the bridge soon and besides, he wanted her now, foreplay be damned.
He heaved her back up and when his hips pinned her back against the wall, the separation of cloth made her arch her back and moan softly.  "What about you?" she breathlessly asked, and he kissed her again because the way she spoke, the mess of her voice, turned him on like nothing else.  "Mm…help me…" he muttered, hooking his hands into his pants.  Her fingers joined him, blindly pulling the fabric as far down as she can reach.  Then his bare cock is pressed deliciously against her wet folds and Clara moaned again when he rubbed tantalizingly against her.
"I'm not waiting," he told her, and his voice didn't leave any room for complaint on her part, not like she had one anyway.  "Don't want you to," she gasped, kissing him like her life depended on it.  He grunted against her mouth and pulled her legs farther up his waist, spreading her core as he guided himself to it.  She was so silken and wet that it was easy to dive into her, and though he tried to go slowly at first, by the time Hikaru was fully sheathed he simply could not go easy on her.  She was tight around his cock and deliciously wet, and he pushed back into her with a force that astounded her and left her breathless and moaning his name.
"F-Fuck, Hik-aru-"  His hips roughly pinned her down and he didn't stop to see if she was alright, if he was hurting her.  But there was no pain in her moans, no discomfort, and this only fueled him on faster, rougher.  The fact that she seemed to like the way he was utterly dominating her made him harder than ever.  He groaned and their lips moved together in a messy, sloppy kiss that still somehow managed to make them see stars.  And her legs tightened around his waist with every thrust, every drag of his cock against her inner walls, every jerk and buck and smooth thrust of his hips.
There was a twisting of bodies, a gulping of air, and then suddenly Hikaru was pressed against the wall and Clara was still tightly wound around his body.  His hand splayed out against the wall to hold himself up.  Both her hands were dragging into his hair and kissing him hard, but then the moment ended all too soon as Hikaru forced her back against the wall and chuckled.  He heaved her legs up and increased the already stifling pace of his hips, dragging out the beginning of an orgasm.  "'M almost there," he gaspingly told her, chest heaving.  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, eyes crinkling up with the sort of despair that only came from this type of situation.  "Me too," she moaned, clutching at his shoulders tightly as she felt her body wind itself up against him.  His name left her mouth in a flurry of desire and he hurried to kiss her, muffling the loud noise in case someone happened to hear from the hallway.  His hips surged forward and the bruising force of them made her explode, shatter into a million pieces like the beautiful death of a star. 
"I'm coming, fuck - I, I'm - Hikaru!" and it was the way she said his name, ultimately, that made him grit his teeth and follow right after her.  The helpless, delicious way the vowels of his name burst from her lips and printed themselves against his mouth.  Her hips bucked forward and he moaned, long and low, burying the sound against her skin as he spilt himself into her.  And it was perhaps the most amazing experience he'd ever had, challenged only by the excitement of sitting in the pilot's station of the Enterprise for the very first time.
"God…" he heard her whisper, and he chuckled because there was really nothing to say.  He pressed a firm, slow kiss to her neck, then jaw, and when he finally raised his head to look into her eyes, Hikaru smiled the sort of giddy smile that often comes right after that sort of delicious moment.  They stared at each other for a moment, both smiling bashfully, and then the clock above her door chimed the time and Hikaru's eyes widened.
"Oh my God," he pulled away, trying to lower her to the floor as gently as possible.  "I'm late.  I'm late for my shift.  Damn it - "  Clara only chuckled and helped him pick up his clothes.  "Just tell them you had that you had to get stitches.  I'll clear it for you if there's trouble," she said, and he glanced at her and grinned.
"The fact that you're a medic is definitely going to help in the future," he said as he pulled on his clothes.  Clara raised her eyebrow and smirks, "Who says there's going to be a future?"  And Hikaru's eyes turned predatory.  He stalked forward, pushing her back against the wall and lowering his lips beside hers.  Their breath was an intermingled mess and their hearts were simultaneously ricocheting together.  He murmured a promise that nearly made her sink to the floor in excitement, "I'll be by after my shift.  To have you check my stitches."  The faux-innocent addition to his sentence had her biting her lip and smiling. 
"I'll leave the door unlocked," she whispered back, and the kiss he proceeded to give her was way too short for her liking.  She'd just have to get him back for that later tonight, she told herself, and grinned as she watched him leave.




  2. Amazing. Can you do another Chekhov one?

  3. I never thought of Mr.sulu as a predatory man, this hqs blown all such assumptions out the window and made them burst into a million little pieces. Could you do a Spock one? Pretty pretty please?