Star Trek Lower Decks Fic: This Is The Web, The Web That You Weave

[peppermintpuppet]

Title: This Is The Web, The Web That You Weave
Relationship: D'Vana Tendi/D'Erika Tendi
Rating: Explicit
Length: 759 words
Notes: trans D'Erika, consensual nonconsent, sibling incest

“D’Erika, you just—you just got married,” she says. “Is this what you invited me back to the ship for?”

D’Erika laughs, her ponytail waving high in the air. “Please, we both know the marriage doesn’t mean we have to be exclusive,” she says, her lips nipping over her sister’s jawline, breathing in the scent of her, enveloping herself in her Prime, her reason, “and it’ll be just like old times, of course. I miss the way things used to be, don’t you?”

“Let me seal the doors,” gapss D’Vana, her body pushing forward on pure instinct-need, “I don’t want either of them to--”

But D’Erika’s hand clasps around her wrist so horribly tight, and her teeth bite down so horribly deep against D’Vana’s neck, a claiming, and her words cut so horribly into D’Vana’s soul, a devouring. “No,” she says. “You’re going to stay right here.”

“Oh, seriously, you really want your new husband to find you having sex with your sister?”

“Do you honestly think I care? Actually,” she says, forcing the pants of D’Vana’s stupid fucking Starfleet uniform down to her ankles and right off, cutting them in half with her sword, “I think it would be kind of hot.”

D’Vana could take over, of course. She could seize control, could pin down D’Erika at any moment, reciprocate the devouring until their sisterhood is some kind of self-consuming snake. She could destroy D’Erika if she wanted to. She could do anything, if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t. She enjoys being here, underneath her little sister’s forced touch, being bitten and claimed and humiliated. She left Starfleet so her sister could shine, and here she remains, burning happily underneath the light of D’Erika’s constellations.

Orions like it when you pretend you don’t want it. She’s always found it disturbing, but D’Erika would ask her to do it sometimes, before she left for Starfleet. To act like D’Erika was in control, like D’Erika was the Mistress, like D’Erika could have that power of doing anything without repercussions because no one can defeat you. So she struggles underneath D’Erika’s touch, makes a big show of it, tries to stifle her gasps when D’Erika parts her legs with a warm lime hand. As D’Erika’s hand works a finger over her clit and just inside, her tongue sticks out, and tears begin to drop like gemstones from the ducts of her eyes. 

“Please, D’Erika, don’t—”

D’Erika lowers her pants, presses her cock against D’Vana’s thighs.

“No, no, please, I—”

“Shut up.”

D’Erika grabs her hips to hold her in position—she’s sitting on the console, her back against the dormant control panel, pinned underneath D’Erika, who pushes in rough with a soft musical grunt. “You’re mine, big sister,” she continues, a low gravel-growl. “You may have been the Prime once, but you said it yourself, I defeated you. And now… I’m taking you.”

D’Vana’s eyes close in pleasure as D’Erika thrusts in hard, fast, hard. “Fuck, D’Erika—”

“I said shut up,” D’Erika hisses. A deranged half-grin infects her face as she slaps D’Vana hard against the face. 

“Please don’t--”

A harder, deeper, angrier thrust. D’Erika is merciless.

“Fuck, yes—-stop—-fuck—stop, stop, please—-fuck—-”

D’Erika is close, too, and they both know it. D’Erika’s forehead rests against D’Vana’s as she shifts the position of D’Vana’s hips underneath her, pulls her closer, immobilizes her. D’Vana is so engrossed in her sister’s motions that she doesn’t process it, doesn’t understand the gesture until her sister is spilling right inside of her, moaning breaths of rage into D’Vana’s mouth beneath. She would say wait, but it’s useless; D’Erika’s already fucking her cum deep inside, pushing her orgasm to its peak, and D’Vana’s own orgasm envelops her at the sensation of it. D’Erika’s fingers digging into the sides of D’Vana’s arms will leave an undeniable mark. She’s ruined the only pair of pants D’Vana had on her. D’Vana can’t pretend anymore—her stops bleed into cries of yes, fuck, yes, D’Erika, oh. In her vision: every galaxy merging into one and bursting anew. It feels so! Good!

D’Erika grunts again, panting. D’Vana, after catching her breath, returns the slap, even harder now, a thick strike that leaves an emerald gash.

“You better hope that I don’t get—”

D’Erika just shoves a finger into her mouth, shuts her up for good. Soon her sister will leave Orion again, but at least D’Erika will have left her with this, this holy haunting. At least D’Erika took her. At least the true Prime has been established.