Fight Night Part B
Title: Fight Night
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Words: 6575
Rating: R+
Notes: Fromst_xi_kink prompt: Ok, I'm tired of Jim always getting his ass kicked. He's had bar-fighting experience (which is pretty much the equivalent to street fighting - which is still pretty bad ass) and then, I have no doubt that he took advanced comabat fighting at the Academy. So, let's let everyone think that he lost against Spock b/c he sucked at fighting but Kirk really has some serious skillz.
A few months after Kirk is made Captain, Jim gets to show off these skillz and it makes Spock hot to realize Jim could have given Spock a run for his money, if he wanted.
(I firmly believe that without skill, brute force would not win against someone weaker but with more training than their opponent.)
Bottom!Spock
Somehow this turned much more epic than I anticipated, with a fluff ending...and for some inexplicable reason, I <3 Bottom!Spock...
Part A
“Nobody. Shits. With. MY. Crew!”
Jim’s punches punctuated each word. The alien he was currently beating on was a bloody mess and its struggles were in vain. The landing party had been greeted by the angriest inhabitants they had ever had the displeasure of meeting. All Jim could think of was a herd of angry badgers. The aliens had made an attempt to greet them politely, but somewhere along the trip, they tried to separate the landing party and rip them to pieces. Jim would have none of that.
While he had the utmost faith in the abilities of his crewmates, he was not pleased that they were being attacked in the first place. What set him off though, was when Spock busted into the room Jim had been locked in with a split lip and the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek. One of the aliens tried to take Spock from behind, but Jim was quicker. He tackled the attacker and wrestled him to the floor where he proceeded to kick, punch, and bite his way to victory. The scrapes and bruises he received was worth the effort and the accompanying satisfaction in showing everybody who was in charge.
Finally, the aliens relented and would henceforth welcome the Federation as honored guests and warriors. It was unorthodox, but all in all, Jim was proud of his diplomatic solution. Though he received a lecture about the merits, or lack thereof, of resorting to violence from Spock, Jim could feel his exhilaration and desire. It made him grin.
The landing party was beamed aboard to the impatient face of Doctor McCoy. He glanced over the entire party with a critical eye and pointed sharply down the hall.
“Sickbay. All of you. Now.” he commanded.
Through the midst of grumblings and reluctant steps, Jim and Spock stayed back. Jim could feel the intense gaze on the back of his neck.
“And where do you two think you’re going?” McCoy growled.
“My room. See ya, Bones.”
Jim pushed by the glowering doctor and did not need to look behind to know that Spock was following close on his heels. They were part way down the hall when McCoy yelled,
“Fine! But all ya’ll better be expectin’ a house call!”
Both Jim and Spock ignored the stronger southern twang to the doctor’s angry voice and hurried to the captain’s quarters. Once they arrived and the door shut, Jim whipped around and pounced. Spock suddenly found himself pressed against the room’s wall. Jim purred into his ear.
“My, my. Something’s got you hot and bothered.”
Spock took a shaky breath as his breathing and pulse began to quicken.
“Indeed…I find your ability to fight most…stimulating.” he panted out while Jim lavished kisses across his jaw.
“You think I’m sexy when I let loose and show everybody who’s boss.”
It was easy to hear the smirk in his voice as he maneuvered them to the bed. Spock backed into it and leaned back. Jim crawled on top of him and enjoyed the way his chest rumbled when he spoke.
“Affirmative.”
And thus they spent the next few hours relieving their tension and deepening their bond. A couple of years had passed since they first began bonding, and by now, the entire crew was aware of it and approved of it for the most part. The only one who did not always approve was McCoy. He disapproved of anything, no matter how epic or psychologically deep it was if it interfered with his duty as chief medical officer. While he was used to Jim and Spock running off and bonking each other like bunnies just about after any type of physical altercation, McCoy did not like it that there were injuries he knew were not being taken care of.
That was why he was currently standing over Jim’s bed with his arms crossed. Jim, meanwhile, was on his stomach, arm draped over Spock’s back protectively. He looked up with a pleading glance and was met only with an unimpressed raised eyebrow. McCoy just shook his head and suddenly hit Jim with a hypospray. He opened his mouth in a silent gasp of surprised pain and shot McCoy an evil glare. Still unimpressed, the doctor took another hypospray and injected it into Spock as well. Spock shifted from the brief moment of discomfort, but otherwise remained sleeping.
McCoy set down another set of hyposprays on the nearby nightstand and was about to leave when Jim gave him a smug grin and a thumbs up. The good doctor just rolled his eyes and exited the room, shaking his head in fond annoyance.
Feeling his muscles relax and the ache begin to dull form the medicine, Jim shimmied closer to Spock and nestled his face in the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes and relaxed into his friend, lover, life-long companion, blood brother, and shieldmate; his t’hy’la.