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sobeautifullyobsessed · 12 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me? You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order. If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly. She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina. Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?” Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented. “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.” And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again. His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”. She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?” Why was his voice so soothing? Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness. The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next. She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

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rssspockuhura · 7 years

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A Khan By Any Other Name

Warning: Some M/M works might show up here because the Spock/Uhura tag is used in ref to S/U as a side pairing, past pairing, etc. Solution. Read at your own risk.

Author: soBeautifullyObsessed Star Trek: 2009 English, Rated: M Suspense/Romance Characters: [John Harrison/Khan, OC] Chapters: 11, Words: 34,609, Reviews: 16, Rated: M, In-Progress

Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast performing in pubs, bars & nightclubs. Most of the time, she can take care of herself & stay out of trouble- unless her kind heart overrides common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave, she quickly learns he is trouble personified. via FanFiction.Net: Star Trek: 2009, Last Updated https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12088779/1/A-Khan-By-Any-Other-Name Remember to check out the Spuhura fanworks community on livejournal. Follow rssspockuhura for Spock/Uhura fanworks from around the web.

#spock #uhura #spuhura #spyota #nutrek #stxi #stxii #stid #star trek #star trek into darkness #star t

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 28 days

Text

A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

word count: 2.4k

Chapter One

Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look. Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides. Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.

So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings. Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.

The man bending over the open hood

straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman. As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her. Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.

She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely. “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring. She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.

And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.

The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed. He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter. Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee�� response—hit her system.

But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.

Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.

Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"

The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.

In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened. “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.” She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”

Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."

She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.

He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face. “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.” Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.

And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.

Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado. Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.” She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.

Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own. “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes. “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”

Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer. This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments. That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others. And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.

"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth. Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.” He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.

Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue. Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face. Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.

“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”

Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.

"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."

Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.

"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."

"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.

Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."

She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."

"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."

"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."

He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.

She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.

Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...

He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."

She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.

(to be continued)

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 10 months

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A Khan By Any Other Name

moodboard by @strangelock221b

summary: Pre Star Trek Into Darkness. John Harrison (Khan), on the run from Admiral Marcus, is on mission to save his people, and presses a good Samaritan to help in his quest. Though initially against her will and amid a variety of dangers, Seraphina DiPietro quickly discovers her sympathy for his plight--as well as her attraction to him--becoming irresistible.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OFC)

rating: MATURE/18+

word count: 4.5k

excerpt from chapter ten

...Khan pulled the hovercraft into the darkened lot of a modest, little roadside inn. Their agreement to stop for the night remained unspoken, as though a spell of sorts had fallen over the both of them. Neither cared to look back upon their deadly encounter, let alone discuss it—but each silently recognized a change in the dynamic of their relationship.

Once Sera had arranged for their lodging, he backed the craft into the space in front, leaving it to face the wooded area behind the inn, positioned so to facilitate a quick departure should it be necessary.

“I paid for two nights, just in case,” she revealed, her voice grown soft in the quiet of the room, as he bolted the door behind him, “I thought, it’s so late already and perhaps…well perhaps we might not be…be ready to leave at…checkout time.” She shrugged, tongue-tied now that they were alone, surely feeling the full import of having shut the rest of the world away.

The room was simply furnished; the only difference he discerned, from typical night lodgings of his time, was a viewing screen that took up at least three-quarters of the wall across from the bed. Seraphina left her bags sitting on a chair, and set about unpacking the items she had purchased for them; an assortment of protein bars, several types of fruit, and bottled water. “I wasn’t exactly sure what you would like, but these should do alright—don’t you think?”

“Of course,” he answered, careless of the objects in question, focused only on the steady current thrumming between them.

“And I got a few things you might need,” Seraphina continued, her words spilling out in a nervous rush, “A toothbrush and a razor; a clean shirt—I hope it’s okay, I just guessed at the size. And…um…a change or two of…underthings…”

She trailed off, as Khan moved closer, stilling herself completely as he ran a hand up from the small of her back, to leave it resting between her shoulder blades. He spoke softly, reassuringly, against her ear, “I’m sure all is exactly as I need.” Her sudden, aching vulnerability was dizzying him, and making him want to slowly savor every moment to come, despite how his true need was growing stronger with each breath he drew.

She gave the quietest little moan as he stroked her cheek, and then turned her face up to his so he might lay a soft kiss on her mouth. “Seraphina,” he exhaled against her lips, “My unexpected, little miracle.” He kissed her again, and again, and again, never going deep, teasing himself as much as he teased her, making her want to go deep but denying her at the same time. “Be mine, Seraphina,” he insisted between the tender tease of each kiss, “Be mine…be mine…be mine…”

“Is this real…is this really happening,” she whispered, even as she craned her neck enough to encourage him to paint a trail of moist kisses upon her throat. Khan slid his palms down to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs hard against her nipples, and delighting as she arched into his hands.

He nuzzled his way back to her ear, softly rumbling his answer, “The most real thing I’ve known, in more years than you could possibly imagine,” punctuating his lonely secret by gently tugging her earlobe between his teeth. It drew from her a surprised gasp, as she tightened her grip on his biceps. He thought her as ripe and willing as any woman he had ever taken, reading in the way she trembled against him further proof of her desire—until her plaintive tone broke through his fog of lust.

“Please, John…oh please. Just let me breathe a moment. We’re moving so fast…and I…oh god,” she panted, struggling for the right words to say, “I want you, I want this…I just…I’ve never been the kind of woman who falls into bed with a man she barely knows…”

Khan backed away, dazed by her seeming refusal, and blinking slowly through the stupor of hard desire. Stymied by her mixed signals, he growled more harshly than he should have, “Woman, what is it you would ask of me?”

She shook her head, moving close and laying her hand against his cheek. “Only that you give me a chance to catch up to you. That you just—please--bear with me a little bit. You’re quite…” she swallowed hard, searching his face for understanding, “…quite a force of nature, you know.” Seraphina bowed her head a moment, sounding a little overwhelmed, “I want to choose this of my own volition, and not because you’ve swept me up in the power of your…” she met his eyes again, her face a perfect mix of guilelessness and longing, and sighed as she told him, “…your beautiful will.”

As potent as was his desire for her, Khan knew in his heart that he must concede to her soft entreaty. Recalling their delicious trespass all those hours ago—and relishing her sweet fragility now—he realized that he had no true choice but to be patient…for she was a prize well worth waiting for.

He turned from her, not out of anger or frustration, but because he needed to cool his ardor for a time. “How prettily you test me, my sweet desert rose,” he grumbled, “So that in this, I must bow to your will.” He paced to the far side of the room, restless and aching for satisfaction. Stopping near the window, he parted the drapes enough to peer outside, trying to distract himself from the seething heat in his blood. Khan heard her quiet ‘thank you, John’, and muttered an acknowledgement, registering that she had moved into the bathroom without looking her way.

By the time that she emerged, he had kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed, managing to calm himself and quiet his hunger. His eyes were closed, as he concentrated purely on breathing; he felt Seraphina approach, but remained still until she cautiously addressed him.

“I suppose I ought to look at that cut now. At least clean it up, see that it doesn’t get infected.”

He opened his eyes, to find her beside him, a damp washcloth in her hands. A sweet act of conciliation, he thought; how very like her. Though it was unnecessary—his genetic makeup endowed him with a superior immune system, meaning he was seldom prey to illness or infection—he decided to allow it. It would be ill of him to reject her simple act of kindness.

“Thank you,” Khan murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, leaving room so she might sit beside him. He pulled his shirt off, discarding it on the floor—completely unprepared for her reaction.

The moonlight in the alley had been enough for Seraphina to excise that insidious tracker from beneath his flesh, but far from enough for her to note his true condition. She gasped at first, then fell mute, moving a step back to take in the full picture. In his unwavering focus on getting to London, Khan had put the pain he had endured--at Marcus’s behest--behind him, and so had not given a thought to how he would appear to her. At her gasp he looked up at her, wordless himself, to explain the sight confronting her.

Remaining silent, Seraphina studied the map of ugly bruises on his shoulders and torso, her eyes the widest he’d seen them yet. When she finally found her voice, it was hushed and sorrowful, “Who…who did this to you?”

Khan blinked several times, fascinated by the minute tremble of her lips; she was holding back some strong emotion, and on his account. “Unimportant,” he replied dispassionately, “And safer for you not to know.” And then, uncharacteristically, he looked away, the soft, sympathetic regard in her eyes and the set of her mouth nearly too much to bear. What was it about her that made him want to appear invincible? He would not have her think him a victim of any kind. “These will heal rapidly, and any pain that ordinary men must feel…I…I simply do not. I master it; it does not master me.” Of course, he did not add that these sort of injuries would put an ordinary man in the hospital, perhaps clinging to life even with all the medical care available—well, in his time, anyway. Today, he supposed, the broken ribs would be easily knit, the punctured lungs child’s play to repair.

“Oh, John…why? These men you’re running from…why…why would they beat you so?” Sera moved closer, cautious and concerned, and he remained still as she sat by his side on the edge of the bed, knowing she wanted to touch him, and realizing he needed the tender mercies she would be offering.

Nearly every conscious moment since he’d been awakened, Khan had waged his lonely battles—physical, mental, emotional—a stranger in a cold, sterile world that valued him for only that which it could rip from him against his will. He had withstood the rounds of relentless, merciless tests, the repeated psychological games meant to break him, and finally the methodical, repeated beatings administered by men who knew the exact effect of each blow upon the human body (though he was superhuman, even Khan had some limits to his physical endurance, and his captors had explored those limits in every possible way). Yes, Khan had borne each outrage against his mind and his flesh, reaching deep inside himself for the patience to sustain him, burying the anger and the hate for a future day when he would make Alexander Marcus and his minions pay the most painful and deadliest of prices. And not once had he sought compassion or clemency, focusing solely on surviving, never imagining a man such as himself would be afforded simple human kindness, even wondering at times if such soft inclinations had finally been bred out of the human race.

Yet here was this kindhearted woman, proving that benevolence did exist in a hard world, reaching out to comfort him. He’d thought he might wince when she laid her hand upon him, for some of his wounds were still tender, but she touched him gingerly, almost reverently. Khan would have refused her advance if he’d seen pity in her eyes, but that was not her way. “John,” she said--her sadness mixed with an irresistible huskiness that left him feeling weak, and hungry at the same time--laying her other hand against one of the lighter bruises, “Let me help you…let me make this right somehow.” Khan closed his eyes, silently acquiescing, allowing her to move her hands across his skin, letting go at last. Such tenderness, he realized, had far more power over him that the violence he had endured, answering most unexpectedly, the ache in his soul for true human connection. Too many lifetimes of men had passed since he’d felt a woman’s touch. And so gentle a touch as this. Too many ages.

Slowly, then, and lightly at first, Seraphina began to trace his skin with her fingertips. Small circles to begin with, and then fanning out a little at a time, from his shoulders and along his collarbone. She smoothed her palms upon his chest, and his breathing deepened in time with her movements. She was soothing and stirring him by patient touch alone, and when he exhaled her name she moved in close and began to kiss his neck. Slow, sweet, and fleeting kisses, coupled with the brush of her hair against him. Khan leaned his head back a little as her kisses became fuller and more insistent, lingering at the hollow of his throat, and beginning a descent along his sternum.

His ribs on either side bore the worst of his bruises, but Seraphina caressed them with the greatest care, while brushing her parted lips across his chest, and teasing him with butterfly kisses as she neared where he was most sensitive. He groaned deeply at the electric sensation when she danced the tip of her tongue around his areola, narrowing her circles until she flicked it against the hardened nub at its center. The urge to touch her was nearly overwhelming him to give back in kind, and even more—yet he longed to lose himself a while still in the exquisite comfort she was giving. He lost track of time and any sense of place, only aware of the exacting patience of her hands and her lips, her dear, familiar scent, and the shared rhythm of their breathing.

When she withdrew, she rose from his side without a word, so that he opened his eyes to watch her pull her blouse over her head, and drop it at her feet. Her skin was healthy and unblemished—and in the low light of the quiet room—lightly tanned in contrast to the pale pink of her bra. Khan’s mouth watered at the sight of her nipples beneath the cottony material, little buds drawn tight, sure sign of her desire for him; he ached to take them in his mouth, to tease them with his tongue, and graze them with his teeth, imagining the sort of noises she would make in reply. A wave of lust coursed through his belly and below, sharply demanding satisfaction, but he made no move as he waited to see how she would proceed.

Seraphina stood before him in the beautiful prime of womanhood--and in his eyes, her kind and gentle nature was as manifest in her appearance as her lovely physical attributes. He felt no surprise at the tears of empathy that spilled from her eyes, her pupils fully dilated as she drew nearer; and he knew he’d soon taste the salty trails those tears left upon her cheeks. Oh he would taste them; he would taste all of her surely, for he read her intent in how she moved, and in the soft, quick pant of her respiration. She will taste like a desert rose, he reckoned, his body grown ready for her: I will drink myself full of the sweet nectar of my desert rose.

Then she was slipping off her huaraches and sliding her skirt down past her hips, shimmying a bit until the fabric fell in a puddle around her bare feet. The waistband of her panties lay low, skimming across her bikini line, tempting him to reach for her and pull her close, so to hook his fingers inside the thin elastic band and tug away the soft fabric that covered her mound. He wanted to learn the scent of her arousal, to dip his fingertips and tongue into her secret places, and to make all the precious wonders of her supple young body his.

Khan stood up without prompting, reaching for her; Seraphina’s small, pure smile dazzled him as she moved into his offered arms, delectably compliant as he unhooked her bra, slid the straps down, and then cast it on the floor. He exhaled hard at the sight of her revealed, his wonder undeniable, “Perfectly lovely…exactly as I expected.” She lowered her eyes a moment, then met his gaze again, clearly pleased with his appraisal. On most women, this might appear as the pretense of modesty, but Khan already knew her well enough to know this was no artifice.

Seraphina slid one arm around his neck, laying her other hand on his shoulder, and began to kiss his neck again. Flesh on flesh at last, he was aware of every inch of her skin against his; it’s heat a match to his, her smooth, firm breasts pressed tight to him, the muscles of her abdomen as taut and enticing as he’d imagined. He slipped his hands down her back and inside her panties, cupping her bare bottom so that she moaned deliciously. There would be no stopping now, this course that had been destined from nearly their first words to one another.

Seraphina leaned back, resting most of her weight in his hands, and then gazed up at him, looking sweet and wanton all at once. He darted in quick to take her lips in full, thrusting his tongue into her mouth; Khan shivered as she laved her tongue against his, then sucked it boldly, before pulling away. A lascivious tease, he thought, and one he would be very glad to repay—until she rested the crown of her head against his chest, so she could focus on undoing his jeans with both hands. She pushed them past his hips and down his thighs, leaving him to shuck them off the rest of the way while she returned her attention to his mouth, nipping at his lips while she pressed her pelvis against his. Her eager fingertips strayed past the waistband of his underwear, progressing from his back and around to just beneath his navel, her goal quite clear. He allowed her to smooth her fingers through the springy curls of his pubis, allowed her the touch she so hungrily sought; her fingers were cool upon his heat as she began to run them along the ridges of his hardened phallus. Khan grunted, tightening his grip on her bottom, making her whimper her affirmation.

But then--by pure force of will--he clamped his hands on her wrists, growling against her ear, as he withdrew her hands from their intimate quest, “Not quite yet, my divine little temptress. You must ripen even more before I take you.” Though it felt like forever since he’d had his satisfaction, Khan knew he could master his lust a while yet before that inevitable urge overtook him. Seraphina sagged against him, moaning her frustration softly; certainly confused, but rife with desire and ready to follow his every whim.

He laid her gently on the bed, pausing to watch her a bit, reading her need in her rapid respiration and in the soft curves of her breasts, waist and hips. Slowly, he peeled her panties away, purposely breathing deep so that she would see he had caught her scent, and telling her, “You are mine now, Seraphina.” He ran one hand up from her knee to the juncture of her thighs, stretching his fingers wide and resting his thumb in her soft thatch of hair, his face inches above hers, “As you have wished from the first moment I caught you in my arms.” Khan kissed her brow, while moving his thumb closer to her slit, his voice a rough caress, “Tell me if this isn’t so.”

Seraphina blinked slowly, then nodded her head, and smiled softly up at him, “Yes, John. Yes, I am…yes, I wanted this. I want you.” Revelation dawned in her eyes, as she understood the true depth of her desire, “I want you…in every way imaginable.” She brushed her fingers through the fringe that fell over his brow, adding quietly, with a wisdom that pierced his heart, “But don’t deny there is at least some part of you that is mine.”

He chuckled warmly, musing wondrously before kissing her long and deep, “In flesh, in spirit, you are indeed the match to me, sweet Seraphina. Perhaps the universe set you in my path to make amends for the cruelties I have suffered.” Khan hovered above her, memorizing her smallest details a few moments more, and then blazed a trail of kisses down to her breasts. “Perfection,” he murmured against her skin, and then took a stiffened nipple between his lips, tickling it with his tongue while she moaned her reply. Sucking it softly at first, then with increasing pressure before he popped it from his mouth, and moved to lavish his attention on the other.

At the same time, he finally drifted his thumb down to her clitoris, rubbing gently to begin with, then tracing from its tip downward, along her exposed labia, and back again, varying his strokes to keep her on the edge, and eliciting her deepest moans yet. His cock pulsed with ferocious need, straining against the material that was the last barrier between them. Though the deeply buried, primitive part of him cried out for him to plunge himself inside of her, he focused his will on Seraphina’s pleasure, and on preparing her for his eventual entry. Teasing her a bit more, until he brought his fingers to her opening, finding her slick enough to explore; she pushed against him as he flexed one long finger, and then two, inside her, spreading her legs wider to allow him deeper access. “Slowly now, my flower; open to me with patience,” he instructed her, “Trust me in this, as in all things now.”

“Ohhhhhhh…but let me touch you, too,” Seraphina implored him, moving one hand from his hair, skimming it quickly down his body, while stretching her fingers to take him in hand. “Let me feel you…all of you…please, John…please.”

Khan moved his pelvis just out of her reach, keeping her in place upon the mattress effortlessly, intensifying his strokes against and inside her. “No, my precious one, you must wait. Your sweet touch would surely set me ablaze—but first, I would watch you as you come…” Her breath caught with that word, and she squirmed beneath his hand, hot, wet, and achingly close to resolution. “I will feel you in the moment that you peak, proof that you are mine,” he declared, and brought his mouth close to hers, breathing her in.

Seraphina raised her head and latched onto his mouth, her lips and tongue greedy to please him in the only way he would allow. Her hips moved in sync with his fingers, seeking the release he promised—yet still, she sought to persuade him. “No…please,” she begged, her breath catching again with insistent waves of pleasure, as he worked her towards her climax, “Don’t push me over the edge, John…I…aaaaahhhhhh…I don’t want to come until you’re inside me…”

Confident of his power over her—and truly wanting to experience her gratification before his own, he laid his mouth against her ear, “My beautiful one…my sweet flower…we have hours and hours ahead of us. There is time enough for satisfaction for us both. Let me please you in this way—and I promise this night that I will give you such delights as no man has ever given you.” She sobbed softly, confused by the promptings of her heart versus the fire he had kindled in her flesh. “You are my treasure, Seraphina. A heavenly oasis in a world that has only ever sought to use me violently. Trust me, my sweet, and know that I have come to trust you with my life.”

What little resistance she had managed, vanished in a single beat of his heart, as his talented fingers redoubled their efforts, thrusting deeply inside her again and again, while she ground against the glorious pressure of his thumb stroking her clit. In moments, Seraphina exploded like a maelstrom, crying out his name, clenching his fingers tightly within her; her hips rose, and her pelvis and legs went rigid, as her body strained to wring every ounce of ecstasy possible from this first penetration.

Though she fell back onto the mattress, her muscles continued contracting, and her body trembled in luscious after throes. Her pelvis twitched when he finally pulled his fingers away, signaling her body’s regret for his absence, testament to his skill. Khan smiled wolfishly, relishing his indelible effect upon her and anticipating what was to come next, then forged a pathway of soothing kisses back to her passion-bruised mouth.

Resplendently dazed—and with a satisfied flush coloring her skin--Seraphina kissed him back with a tenderness that defied her earlier fervor. The heat in his blood cried out for equal satisfaction, though he bided his time well enough—knowing he was minutes away from taking her in full.

“That…was…amazing,” she sighed, turning into him, casually nuzzling his neck, “And god, you…you smell amazing…and you feel like heaven…” She suckled along his clavicle, murmuring against his skin, “You taste like strength, and mystery, and…and forbidden bliss.” Seraphina slowly exhaled, “And I’d almost think I was dreaming you up—except I’ve never had such an…,” she bit her lip, and her eyelids fluttered shut as her senses relived the glory of it, “…such an intense…orgasm, in a dream before…”

Khan rumbled in his chest, judging her ready for more, while finishing her thought, “Nor in the waking world, I’ll wager.” She was delightfully easy to read, a creature of little pretense, her heart an open book; the language of her body against his was the only confirmation he needed. He splayed one hand across her hip onto the small of her back, pulling her against him and leaving not a bit of gap between them. She ooooo’d, surprised by his sudden roughness, but then conformed to him exactly as he wished, clinging tight while peppering his neck and chest with lusty kisses.

He caught her hand in his, and pressed his lips against her palm. “Now you will free me,” he ordered her, firmly guiding her hand down and setting it upon his bulging cock, “Free me--and then you may touch me as you desire, Seraphina.”

She complied eagerly, pulling away his underwear and grasping his hard, heavy shaft, feeling his full length and girth for the first time. Khan grinned at her moan of mixed surprise and trepidation, knowing he surpassed all of her expectations—his generous endowment another gift of his superior genetics. Her grasp was light and tentative, and she panted shallowly, on the verge of panic. “John…you’re so…so…big,” she sputtered, “What if I can’t…what if I can’t…accommodate…you?”

“Oh, my sweet—you needn’t fear.” His voice was patient, silk indulgence, having anticipated this last obstacle. “You see now why I needed to prepare you--and I promise you are more than ready.” As proof, he moved one hand between her thighs, his expert fingers exploring her core again, measuring her heat and slathering his fingers with her juices. His eyes bored into hers, as he willed her to calm and trust him. Seraphina’s mouth hung slack, as she watched him bring those fingers to his lips and lick her flavor from them. “Yes, my sweet, you are ready for me.”

She held still for several breaths, choosing her course. Accepting his word as truth, her lips quirked saucily—and Khan shuddered at the sensation of her thumb rubbing the tip of his cock insistently, capturing droplets of his pre-come on her skin. Avidly, he watched her suck her thumb, signaling her full submission to whatever he might ask of her.

Khan rolled Seraphina onto her back, taking in her full beauty once more, before mounting her. She kept her eyes locked on his, and they whispered endearments and loving encouragements back and forth, touching one another and never breaking contact altogether. Still marveling at his size, and seeing him ready to bury himself inside her, Sera grasped her knees from behind, pulling her legs back as far as she could, opening to him, vulnerable to him, her clitoris visibly pulsing with renewed need. Khan gripped her hips for purchase, and surprised her one last time, lowering his mouth and tenderly kissing her mound, then caressing her clit with the tip of his tongue; she cried out her bliss, writhing beneath him, raising herself to meet his full lips. She was close again, so close to more rapture, but this time Khan would have her orgasm engulf him.

Seraphina whimpered as he moved away from her wet portal, as suddenly as he’d begun pleasuring her there. “Hush, my sweet,” he cooed, scattering random kisses across her abdomen, and gently grazing the smooth skin of her breasts, on his way back to her mouth, “Have I not promised you all that you desire? And have I not proven myself a man of my word?”

She was nearly incoherent, only able to moan, and when he took her mouth again, he matched that moment by slipping the head of his cock into her melting pussy. He groaned with the joy of it, the purest pleasure he had of her yet, holding himself still as she bucked beneath him, begging him in that way to fill her completely. Unable to hold back a moment longer, he thrust his full length into her, the sensation so keen that he saw stars behind his closed lids.

It would be quick this time, Khan knew, from so long an abstinence. His heart hammered in his chest, pumping blood that had become molten as he rutted into her again and again, his magnificent brain shutting down all thought but the imperative to take his pleasure at last. He was aware enough to feel her lock her ankles together at the small of his back, and to feel her arms encircle him, holding on hard as he unrepentantly drove her body into the mattress. Seraphina encased him like a glove, and she met his movements measure for measure, her growing moans a heavenly counterpoint to the groans he felt rising from the seat of his soul.

With mere moments left to him, Khan snaked one hand between them, seeking her perfect little nub, her most sensitive spot, rubbing it roughly and pushing her to climax. She rose to meet his final thrusts, the powerful waves of her orgasm pulling him past his endurance, and he came furiously, all his consciousness focused on their connection, his cock convulsing as he spilled himself inside her.

For unnumbered moments, they seemed suspended in time, so intimately connected, throbbing together in the aftermath, and for that brief time unable to tell where he ended and she began. Seraphina drew deep gulps of air, her exhales cooling his sweat soaked skin. Khan found himself shaking, telling himself it was only the flood of hormones that hit is system, after a three hundred year absence. In truth, he knew of only one other woman who had drawn such a reaction from him; the comparison was too apt for comfort, and he shut those thoughts away.

When he looked down upon her, Seraphina smiled up at him, biting her lip, a sudden bashfulness complimenting the glow she wore for him. She rested one hand on the side of his neck, and the other she nested in his mussed hair, then raised her face closer to kiss his slightly parted lips, lingering on his bottom lip, spoiling him with gentleness after his rough use of her. “Are you well, my sweet,” he asked, solicitous of her comfort.

Her smile grew wide, and rather soppy, “Never better in all my life, my beautiful, dark…” She hovered a moment, in search of a perfect word, “My beautiful, dark, magnificent prince.”

“You flatter me, Sera,” he chuckled, using the diminutive of her name for the first time—for she truly was his now, in all ways. His steadiness restored, he continued, “But I will take it, along with anything else you care to give to me.” He took her mouth in a long, passionate kiss, her sweetness become the only candy that would ever satisfy him. Delaying the inevitable no longer, Khan withdrew from her as gently as he could, though she still hissed softly at the loss of connection. And, oh, she would be sore tomorrow—but he could not regret a moment of how he’d taken her. Of how you loved her, the voice of his younger self corrected him; he shut that thought away as swiftly as it came.

Sera turned into him, as he laid beside her, and rested her head on his shoulder. Though her voice was drowsy, Khan thought perhaps they’d couple a time or two more before sleep overtook her—and if so, his patience would exact magnificent pleasure upon her warm and willing form.

She traced her fingers across his chest randomly, and brushed her lips against his skin as suited her in the moment. Khan rested his nose against her hair, relaxed in a way he had not been since well before his ascendancy as leader of the Augments. Already the temptation to turn his back forever on that life--in favor of spending days, months, perhaps years, in the splendor of her loving—was insinuating itself inside his mind. He vowed to tread with greater caution in regards to her heart as they moved forward on their journey.

“It’s DiPietro, by the way,” she confided against his skin, “In case you were wondering.” A pleasant sigh punctuated her statement.

“What is?”

Sera kissed along his jaw, her answer rich with amusement, “My surname.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he rumbled, recalling her hesitance in what—now--felt like a full week ago. “DiPietro,” he repeated, enjoying the feel of it upon his tongue.

“Yes,” she laughed. “I didn’t want to trust you, you know. I thought it would be safer not to say,” she admitted.

“And now?” He had an inkling as to her reply.

“I would trust you with more than my life,” she confessed, unaware of the drift of his own thoughts, “I would trust you with my heart.”

The only answer he felt safe to give, was to pull her soft against him—hoping it would suffice for now. Hoping that when the end came, he would not have to break such a beautiful, yet unasked for gift, and one so tenderly offered.

If you enjoyed this, chapters 1-12 of this WIP can be found on AO3.

tagging: @bakerstreethound @withalittlehoney @rmoonstoner

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#my writing #A Khan By Any Other Name #Khan #Khan Noonien Singh #John Harrison #Khan x OC #Khan x OFC #Khan x Seraphina #OFC #Seraphina DiPietro #khan fan fiction #khan fanfiction #star trek fan fiction #star trek fanfiction #Khanbatch #my dark magnificent prince

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 months

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Why did you go and create an OC love interest for Khan when the USS Vengeance is RIGHT THERE?!

Hmmmm...I'm a little confused by your reference to the Vengeance in relation to my OC. Unless you mean to say that the ship itself should be his beloved?

But anyway...

I've always written OCs paired with canon characters in my fics. It's my true wheelhouse. Maybe because creating them satisfies that same artistic urge that always led me to build complex biographies for the characters I played in my (now ancient) Acting days. And I adore fashioning women to meet the emotional needs of canon characters who I perceive are in want of understanding, compassion, and love.

'A Khan By Any Other Name' is a prequel to 'Star Trek Into Darkness', inspired by this photo of Benedict Cumberbatch, taken for GQ Magazine leading up to the movie's release.

It fired my imagination to tell the story that reflects the complex, fascinating Khan that Benedict created, who is so much more than a black & white villain. So much more than the 300 year old, brilliant, brutal warrior he is revealed to be. My OC is a means to see a tender side to this man who values his family above all things - and also a chance to give him a backstory that can help us see what formed him into a man who feels all things deeply (even while he conceals himself behind a mask of dispassion), exactly as Benedict portrayed him.

'Man of Passion, Force of Nature' grew out of a tumblr prompt (specifically asking for an OC) and takes place during Khan's reign on Earth as leader of the Augments, during the war that eventually led to he and his people being exiled to deep space aboard the Botany Bay.

Wow - I have to thank you for this Ask, because it feels really good to revisit these two WIPs after too long away! I swear someday they will be finished. In fact, I've already written the end and epilogue for 'Khan' in my mind, though so much of life has gotten in the way of painting the words on my computer screen.

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for the tag, my friend--you know I appreciate every chance I can get to promo my work!

So, five favorites? Honestly, it's hard to choose, as most of my work remains WIPs that are currently languishing for updates. I'm going to exclude my one-shots to narrow down the field - and base this list on both the story and the quality of the writing. Hoping that they might get a little bit of love and some new readers!

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight - Stephen Strange x OFC. Slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, mentor/student, friends-to-lovers. Pre-Infinity War. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 19 chapters.

A Khan By Any Other Name - Khan Noonien Singh x OFC. Adventure, danger, angst, romance. Pre-Star Trek Into Darkness. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 12 chapters.

The Secret of Salvation - Major Jamie Stewart x OFC. War Horse AU. WW I. Angst, prisoner of war, romance. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 5 chapters.

The One That Got Away - Benedict Cumberbatch AU, where he is primarily a stage Actor with some movie/television appearances. Benedict Cumberbatch x OFC. Takes place during a production of The Taming of the Shrew. Castmates to friends to falling in love, slow burn, jealousy, lots of angst. WIP, currently 18 chapters.

Scarlett and the Professor - Tumblr exclusive. An original, erotic, paranormal romance, based on a discontinued roleplay. All original characters. Takes place on an unnamed Caribbean island. Older man/younger woman, professor/student, supernatural elements bringing them together, romance, angst, forbidden desires, light kinks with foreshadowing of darker kinks. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 32 chapters, plus two one-shots.

moodboards under cut

(related works: Lady in Red, Though There Be Pain Love Still Endures)

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

Doctor Stephen Strange's life has settled into a fulfilling pattern; even as Master of the New York Sanctum, he continues his studies in the mystic arts, self-training with the library that the Ancient One amassed in her years as Sorcerer Supreme. An old alliance forged by the Ancient One brings an unexpected request to him, and he is duty bound to fulfill it. Along the way he meets with some pleasant surprises--and discovers that his heart is not immune to the effects of the gentlest sorts of magic.

moodboard by @strangelock221b

Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because her kind heart overrides her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger, stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiosity is piqued as much by the classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by the driver--a tall, dark mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than what he appears.

moodboard by @mel-loves-all

Major Jamie Stewart is a survivor--but sometimes he just needs to escape. The guilt, the pain, the despair; his bitter fall due to folly and hubris. It helps to survive if one has a sanctuary to turn to, a dream to hold onto. A vision of a day--and a woman--that might grant him the salvation he desperately craves.

bookcover for The One That Got Away created by @onebuttscratcher

An actress making her name for herself on the London stage, Virgilia (Vicki) Gordon vows not to follow her usual pattern: falling in love with her leading man. The work comes first and foremost--or so she plans. She never expects to develop feelings for her co-star in "The Taming of the Shrew", but with his stellar talent matched by his charm, kindness and intellect, Vicki learns all too soon that, despite one's best intentions, the heart goes where it will. Still, all might be well--but he is far from free enough to return her affections.

moodboard by @strangelock221b

Romance & Passion. Mystery & ties to the Supernatural. Lust & Erotica. NSFW material, so be forewarned. A young Scottish woman of ancient Selkie blood finds herself irresistibly drawn to her dashing British professor, with his own mysterious ties to the Sea. A serial womanizer who believes his inner darkness makes him unredeemable, he finds what seems an uncorruptable innocence in the love she freely offers--eventually coming to wonder if her light might be enough to save him from his demons.

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 years

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to your favorite writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Thank you soooooo much for asking, @wint3r-h3art. I'm always excited to share my creations (even when they're WIPs, languishing for updates😏). In no particular order:

'Friday in the Park with Stephen' - Stephen Strange x Hope Collins (OFC); fluff and delicious longing; extra special love for his beautiful, damaged hands

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight - (WIP) Stephen Strange x Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC); from mentor/student to friends and then lovers; pining, angst, love, passion, lust, deflowering, smut; my Stephen Strange opus

A Khan By Any Other Name - (WIP) John Harrison (aka Khan Noonien Singh) x Seraphina DiPietro (OFC); abduction, danger, unwilling attraction, angst, passion, lust, smut

She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair - (WIP) Stephen Strange x Female Reader; inspired by ArmaniStrange and the wedding in MoM; a love story told through a series of flashbacks upon their wedding day; romance, love, passion, lust, smut

Scarlett and the Professor - (WIP) original characters, professor and student/older man and younger woman; forbidden affair, a innocent young woman's erotic education; supernatural elements from myth and magic; passion, lust, smut, traces of dom & sub; a dark soul falling in love with a creature of the light; Benedict Cumberbatch as face claim for the Professor

#my writing #romance #love #passion #smut #'Friday in the Park with Stephen'#Of Magic Miracles and Moonlight #A Khan By Any Other Name #She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair #Scarlett and the Professor #Stephen Strange #Strangebatch #my eternal muse #Khan Noonien Singh #Khanbatch #my dark magnificent prince #Benedict Cumberbatch #my muse #my constant muse

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 4 years

Text

A Khan By Any Other Name - chapter 12

a Khanbatch fic by sobeautifullyobsessed

[contains NSFW material]

this gorgeous drawing was done by @ravencatart and is used with permission - and seriously, you all should go follow her because she draws lots of BC’s characters in all their beauty and glorious sexiness!

chapter 12

Reluctantly, Seraphina did leave their room after all, for they needed something more substantial to fuel their bodies, than the items she had picked up at the market in Mossburg. They had discussed it briefly, and despite Khan’s initial misgivings, she had insisted it was best for her to go—but he had insisted she carry one of the phasers (set to stun only, as Sera stipulated) he’d acquired on their journey, concealed in her satchel, for any threat that might await outside their quiet sanctuary. Even at that, Khan had been hard-pressed to allow her to go, lingering at the door with her, reminding her of the best precautions to take, and then pulling her to him for kisses that went on far longer than was necessary. Flushed and breathless--and looking incredibly lovely--from his zeal (he knew then that he would never tire of leaving his mark upon her), her hair a tumble once again (when she’d been so careful in brushing it out, so as not to appear the wanton), she’d given him a confident smile before passing from his sight. Nevertheless, he had paced the room like some big game cat in heat, clad only in his briefs, anxiously awaiting her return—relief flooding his system at the chirp of the lock’s release when Sera swiped her keycard. She started to laugh at the sight of him so uncharacteristically out of joint, but the concern in his eyes bade her laughter fail.

Seraphina had barely uttered his name, and then he was upon her, enfolding her tightly in his arms and nuzzling her disheveled hair. His relief soon melted into hard desire, and in minutes she had dropped her satchel and the bagged containers of breakfast food, as Khan fondled her roughly through her blouse and bra, eventually backing her against the door.

He rucked up her skirt, and tore her panties away, finding her wet enough from their brief foreplay, to lift her up--allowing her to anchor her legs around him, and so enabling him to plunge into her with a swift, decisive thrust. Sera moaned at each firm pump, digging her nails into his back hard enough to leave crescent moon shapes that wouldn’t fade for hours. She came quickly, and powerfully, as he rutted up into her glorious heat, triggering his release, intense enough to stagger them both.

When she felt steady enough, Sera draped her arms around Khan’s neck, humming her quiet satisfaction, and he withdrew from her, sweeping her up and carrying her to seat her on the edge of the bed. Playing the waif, she tugged at his hand “But our food will get cold, my prince,” she mock protested, and he growled and grinned at her.

Not bothering to cover himself, he strode to retrieve her fallen items; she watched, amused, while he unpacked their meal onto the table, and turned to her with a small, formal bow, “Your meal awaits, my sweet. Join me, please?”

"Hmmmmm" Sera teased, acting as though she couldn't quite decide, then sighed as shot him a saucy smirk, stood up, and wrapped the seat around herself. Though completely naked, Khan played the part of a gentleman, pushing her chair into the table once she was seated, before sitting down as well. Together they polished off every speck of food, until Sera dropped her sheet and enticed her lover right back to bed.

The second time she stole from their room to grab something for dinner, Seraphina came back to find a far less restless Khan. As she opened the door, he was exiting the bathroom, a cheap motel towel draped around his waist, covering very little. She was floored by the casual sight of him, nearly naked in the full light; broad shoulders, finely delineated pectorals and abs, the taper of his waist in perfect proportion to his shoulders and chest, the gap in the towel showcasing his firm, powerful thigh. And knowing what lay beneath that faded cloth, she felt a wave of lust wash over her. Setting the food on the table, she pouted as she drew his way, “You could’ve waited for me, you know. I’d have scrubbed you thoroughly.” She staged a regretful sigh, biting her lip as she awaited his reply.

“Well now,” he countered, advancing two steps, “There’s still plenty of hot water…for later.” His eyes danced with mirth, “And aren’t you hungry right now?”

Sera did her best to pace her breathing; he appeared to her as a Greek god out of myth, taken spectacular flesh. Apollo. Adonis. Perhaps even bellicose Ares—and she had a sudden, overwhelming need to worship him. She answered as she came to stand before him, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall away. “Hungry for one thing in particular,” she panted, and slid her arms around his neck. Kissing his fresh washed skin, revealing her desire unashamedly, “Hungry to taste you. Hungry to please you.”

“Show me,” he rumbled, sinking his hands into her hair, “Show me, sweet desert rose, your hunger.” He pressed her head against him, reckoning what she longed to do. “Show me your longing; take from me what you will.” Like a command again, yet not a command, so that Sera could not stop herself from loosening the towel from his waist and grasping his burgeoning erection, and then taking to her knees. Gazing up at him, she parted her lips, longing to tell him she loved him, but holding that secret close—and guided him into her mouth instead. One hand holding onto the root of his phallus while using her thumb to stroke the sensitive triangle of skin between the base of his cock and his balls, the other cupping one of his perfect glutes, she took him deep, a little at a time. He kept his hands in her hair, showing no sign he would let go until he was satisfied—which suited her purpose; for this time, her truest desire was to drink of him in full, thus to show him without a word, what he had become to her.

Khan’s groans were her music, his thrusts into her mouth a blessing that she craved—and even in the midst of his lust and need, he still tempered his movements enough to keep from overwhelming her. Feeling his tension build deliciously, Sera ran her tongue along his hardened ridges, relishing the mixed flavor of his flesh and the fluid leaking freely from his tip. Wet and throbbing with need herself, she drew upon him lovingly, sucking him ever harder, carefully taking his cock to the back of her throat, then forward again repeatedly, readying herself for his divine release. Between growled curses, Khan rasped out her name again and again, swiftly on the verge of losing control.

The tension in his body was exquisite, echoing her need to satisfy him and give him a memory that would linger long after they parted ways. “My beautiful Seraphina…I…oh fuck…I love…” he trailed off with a sudden grunt, and then he was coming, spraying his hot spend to the back of her throat. Holding onto him tightly, she swallowed his spend like it was honeyed nectar and was all the she needed to sustain her. This was a rare act for her, and one that had never before brought her such satisfaction. But with him, she had learned, none of her old rules or habits applied; John Harrison had freed her secret, daring self, and whatever lay waiting ahead for her—for them—she would harbor no regrets.

____________________________________________________________

Once they had finished their dinner, Seraphina announced that she needed to wash her hair, flaring her eyes and trailing her fingertips across Khan broad shoulders on her way to the loo. Standing in the doorway, with her back to her lover, she shimmied out of her clothes and underthings, then looked back at him over her shoulder, silently inviting him to join her.

But she didn't wait for him, almost as eager for the hot water to work its magic on muscles that had never been so deliciously sore, as she was to feel the slide of his wet skin upon hers--and for what much surely follow. As she raised her face to the refreshing fall of water, she felt a wisp of cooler air and heard the sound of the shower curtain being pushed aside, and then felt Khan’s strong, solid presence at her back. Sera turned into to him, and discovered him watching her so sadly, it felt like to crack her heart in two. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him what was wrong, but he would only shake his head before he cupped her face in both his hands, kissing her with a tenderness that somehow spoke of need and sorrow, His kiss soon grew to a desperation which filled her veins with a renewed longing to be the comfort for whatever pain he carried. Once the kiss dissolved, she tried to ask again what ailed him. “John…” but he only shook his head again, reaching past her for the bottle of shampoo.

Khan turned her to face the shower head and began to wash her hair. His strong fingers massaging her scalp and the rich scent of honey and jasmine filled the air, and the lather slid down her skin while his hands worked their way down her muscles, soothing her, relaxing her, turning her legs to rubber, so that Sera thought she might collapse if she didn’t have him supporting her from behind. He’d grown hard as he tended to her, his magnificent cock trapped between them, causing her belly to tighten with her own need.

‘Time to rinse,” he rumbled against her ear, hands on her waist as he twirled her to face him again. She tilted her head back, allowing him to sluice the shampoo from her hair, and once done, he lowered his mouth to her throat, sucking the water from her skin, while pulling her flush against him. Sera’s sex was throbbing for him now, and she was on the verge of pleading with him to fuck her, fuck her hard, when he cupped her bottom tightly, grinding his erection against her abdomen. “You are mine, Seraphina…all mine. Say it for me,” he demanded gruffly, his sudden possessiveness thrilling her, “Say that you’re mine…say it now…”

His fingers were digging into her flesh, parting her ass, overwhelming her with the desire for him to plunge all that he was straight to her core. “Oh god, yes,” she cried out, “John, I am yours…all of me, yours…all I want in the world is you! Roughly, he spun her to face the shower wall and pressed her body against the slick service, and she heard herself beg, unashamed, “Please, John…take me…fill me…fuck me…prove that I’m yours…”

Khan gripped one of her hips from behind, while using the other to push the leaking head of his cock into her pussy. Sera gasped with relief, then renewed her plea, “Make me yours, John…please…let me be yours…forever…” With one strong thrust he was fully inside her, soon reaching around to finger her clit, and then setting a perfect rhythm for them in a few moments more. Sera closed her eyes, her cheek resting against the cool tiles, giving herself over to whatever he willed–trusting her lover, her dark, magnificent prince, completely. Down to her very soul.

She came three times in all, as he fiercely drove himself inside her, the first time just after he bit her shoulder. Such a shock and something Sera would never have accepted from any other man–but from John, from this towering, spectacular demi-god of a man, nearly anything would do. “All mine…forever mine…” he growled against her ear, repeating it like a mantra while his fingers stroked her exposed lips, denying direct contact with the sweet nerve bundle of her clitoris until he decided she was ready to come again. By the third time, Sera was lost to coherent thought, only aware of where their bodies connected, the clench and release of her muscles around him pure bliss. Khan’s breath had gone jagged, signaling he was ready to explode. “Come in me, John,” she urged him, “Come in me hard…fill me to the brim…” With that, he could bear the strain no longer, convulsing hard and deep inside her, letting nature take control as he emptied himself into her welcoming womb. Beyond the physical stimulation, it was Sera’s elation in the divine union of their flesh, that had her seeing stars when her final climax overtook her.

Lusciously shaken, Sera leaned her full weight on the shower wall, pressing her fevered forehead to t and splaying her hands upon the tiles–feeling exhausted and hollowed out, but also completely safe within Khan’s arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back anchoring her in place. Several minutes passed, and he reached to turn the shower off, for she had begun to shiver as the hot water had grown tepid. He was so gentle now, exactly as she needed him to be, so that she turned to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“There now, my angel,” he husked, smoothing one hand through her wet hair, “My sweet little flower...my refuge...my hope...” Such loving epithets, after the fury of how he’d taken her. Sera was trembling, overwhelmed with mixed emotions, not surprised at all when her tears began to flow. There were things she longed to tell him, but could not even begin, for the lump in her throat.

Most of all, she wanted to beg him to change his course, to choose her over his far off family, to see with eyes wide open that her heart was in his hands. She cried quietly while he rocked her, ashamed of her selfish notions and that she couldn’t quell her tears, fearing that he would think her a weakling, and thus not worthy of him.

Eventually, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, scooping her up in his arms and laying her upon the unmade bed. Khan laid down beside his Sera, and rolled her onto her side so that he might spoon her. Coming back to herself, Sera began to apologize for crying, but he would have none of that. “Sweet Seraphina, do not be sorry. You experienced a powerful release; there is no wonder that it touched your heart deeply enough to trigger such emotion.” When she shook her head in denial, he sought to soothe her further. “And your tears flatter me, my dove...for they are proof that I have touched your heart as well.” He rested his nose and mouth against her damp hair, “It has been far too long since a soft, sweet woman shed such tears on my behalf.”

Sera’s breath hitched as she accepted his tender reply, and then Khan told her, “Now then--you are weary, my angel, and your body is spent. You must rest for now, and fear not for tomorrow.” He pulled the sheet over them both, as Seraphina was already half asleep, assuring her as the oblivion of slumber stole her away, “Though our time together is too cruelly brief, I swear that the love and compassion you have given me is branded on my heart--and will sustain me through whatever trials await.”

Read the full story so far on AO3

tagging a few: @ravencatart @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @tsukuyomi011 @letterstosherlock @emilyinnj4real @isabeau13 @thelostsmiles @cinderella1181 @splunge4me2art @theanishimori @bamcrux (I seem to remember you enjoyed my Khan :-) )

#my writing #A Khan By Any Other Name #so very lemon #lemon #lust #passion #romance #angst #Khan #Khan Noonien Singh #Khanbatch #John Harrison #pre-STID #STID #Benedict Cumberbatch #Seraphina DiPietro #OFC #Khan x OFC #Khan x Seraphina

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