Fic: The Ties that Bind, Chapter 10, Kirk/Spock
Title: The Ties that Bind, Chapter 10/11 (Don't say a word. Not one single word.)
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Length: 7k
For: awarrington ♥
Warnings: I put James T. Kirk in therapy. I'm not sure what this says about me
Summary: The Enterprise crew makes contact with a planet where an all-male society thinks they're sexual catnip, and decides to keep and marry them all against their will.
“Jim? I've lost you again.”
“I'm sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Strength. You were describing what strength means to you, what different types of strength you think there are, which are most important in your mind, then you said 'Spock's strong in more ways than I can count' and zoned out.”
“I guess my mind's not on this today.”
“Hmm. Okay.” Jeff keys a note onto his PADD.
“What?” I sound irritated because those little Hmms started to piss me off two weeks back, ten minutes into our first session.
“Do you think it's interesting that you lose focus every time you talk about Spock?”
“Trust me, if you'd ever met Spock you'd understand.”
Jeff picks up three different mugs from his coffee table before he finds his most recent. “I had Professor Spock for second year Xenocultural Studies. He is memorable, I'll give him that.”
“Yeah. He is.”
The familiar ache starts up again and I close my eyes, thinking of his last words to me the morning I left and how he stared at me as if storing every physical detail within that terrifying brain of his as I traced his eyebrows and whispered his name. Then I blink and come back to the room in a rush as Jeff snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.
“Come on, Jim, we're here to work.”
“Fuck.” I rub my face with both hands and sit further upright in my chair. “I didn't get to speak to him last night, again. Didn't sleep much either. This has got to be frustrating for you, counseling someone so freshly head over heels in love that they can't keep their mind on the subject of their own trauma.”
“Whatever's frustrating to me or not is my business, but no, I take anything that challenges my clinical skills as a positive learning experience. How about we go over the specific challenges you've identified that you faced on Ping, and expand more on which demanded more of you as a captain, and as an individual.”
“Again? Do we have to?”
“Of course not, no.” Another note on his PADD. I feel like grabbing it and busting it open over his carroty head.
“Okay.” I bite at my top lip, looking at him as he looks back at me with an air of calm expectancy, waiting for me to say something. “What? I don't know what I'm supposed to talk about if we're not talking about Ping.”
“Would you like to talk about Spock?”
“I think we've already confirmed that my mind tends to wander when I'm talking about Spock.”
“Uhuh. And why do you think that is?”
“Because I had four nights of the greatest sex of my life with someone who feels like they're a part of me, but now I'm sitting here talking to you? Why the hell do you think!”
I get up out of my chair so fast it falls over with a thump, and I cross Jeff's small office to glare out the window, hoping watching the clouds hanging low and rolling lazily across a teal sky to the far horizon will calm me down. I always watch the skies when I'm home. They're maybe the one thing I miss about this place. There's an intense silence coming from Jeff's direction, waiting, watching me. He never reacts no matter how explosively my anger blows up.
“Sorry.” More silence. “And, yeah, I know I don't have to apologize, but I was brought up to say sorry when you shout at someone.”
I can hear him going through the same, now-familiar coffee mug ritual then taking another slurp as he patiently sits and waits for me to speak. It reminds me that I've been meaning to pick up a self-heating mug for him as a leaving gift once he signs me off. If that's ever going to happen. I turn back to him, giving him a conciliatory smile.
“Should we talk about my mother?”
“I don't know. Should we?”
I grit my teeth and somehow manage not to start smacking my head against the window pane. “You're the expert.”
“Not in the subject of what's contributing to your continued distress. Not until you let me know.”
“Then why do you keep asking about Spock?”
Another note, then he crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. “Why do you think I keep asking about Spock?”
“Please, for the love of all that's good in the universe, stop doing that.”
“You want me to stop doing my job?”
“If your job is to piss me off, then yeah, I do.”
“You're a smart guy, Jim. Smarter than me. Why would I keep turning your questions back at you?”
I screw my eyes closed, my hands making fists against my thighs as I breathe out and try not to imagine his face if I threw the coffee table at him.
“Because I'm unconsciously asking you the questions I need to answer. But that's such bullshit.”
He shrugs, and I eye the coffee table, trying to figure out how heavy it is. “Maybe it is.”
“I haven't asked you anything about Spock.”
“No, but you have to admit he's been a recurrent theme in our sessions so far, either as a distraction from moving any deeper into what's going on in your head or as a primary participant in your description to me of what happened on Ping.”
“He's a recurrent theme because it's new. And big, important to me. More important than anything.”
“So why wouldn't you want to discuss him?”
“Who's said anything about me not wanting to discuss Spock?”
“Then why don't you sit down and we'll talk about him. Get away from the subject of Ping.”
I throw myself back into my chair, slumping down and stretching my legs out in front of me. “Fine. What do you want to know about Spock?” I already know what he's going to say, so say it for him. “'Well, Jim, what would you like me to know about Spock?'”
He nods approvingly, slurping his coffee and looking down at his notes on his PADD.
“Spock is as different to me than anyone I've ever met. We're night and day. You know they say opposites attract? There's got to be a limit to that, though.”
“What would you say your similarities are?”
“Ooh, fuck.” I pick at a hangnail while I think about it. “We're both Command. We both work too hard, and have high expectations of those around us. We both push ourselves, physically and mentally. We both play chess. We're a similar age, although Vulcans age differently to us so I don't know how meaningful that is.”
“Anything else?”
“We both like to be in control.”
Shit. Where did that come from? The air in here's stagnant all of a sudden, panic rising in my throat for absolutely no reason at all. “I mean, he's Vulcan, so of course, he's, uh, he keeps himself tightly controlled, but I'm, I don't know, it's my job to keep control of the situation where possible and I've always been drawn to the lead, but I wouldn't say I'm controlling exactly . . .”
I trail off, aware I'm babbling and beginning to sweat, the looming darkness of the mine's canyon clinging and tugging at the soles of my feet as I scramble to pull myself back up. Jeff puts the PADD down on the coffee table and looks at me, no sign of concern.
“How would you say your desire to be in control manifests itself?”
I swallow and force myself to calm, not wanting him to see me gasping for breath. “I thought we were talking about Spock.”
“We can talk about Spock if you'd prefer.”
“Yeah. I would.”
I think about Spock's hands, his fingers pushing deep inside me that last night as I rocked my hips back and came. How his eyes never changed in expression the whole time, looking down at me with an intense possessiveness that I recognize now as how he looked at me in that bed with Sextus plastered naked to my back. I think about his face, so composed on our comm-chat our first night apart, all business and polite query until I asked if maybe we both should naked and do stuff together, and how awkward it was when we did, so much of ourselves lost in distance.
“Jim? You in there?”
“I did it again?”
Jeff nods, his gray eyes serious over the top of the PADD as he re-crosses his legs the other way and sighs. “You did, just as we were getting somewhere. Funny how that keeps happening.”
-
It doesn't seem to make sense how sitting on your ass in a room with a stranger for day after day is so tiring, but it is and I fought sleep every single cab ride back to the Fleet apartment I'm staying in until I figured out that the walk would actually wake me up. It's no more than three miles, an hour if I take my time and stop for a coffee, although the Academy sits halfway between Jeff's office and my apartment so the coffee shops along the way are crammed with a new year's intake, who all seem to recognize me and want to hear all about what Nero was like. The one time I thought it'd be nice to stroll across the campus itself for the hell of it ended up with me being swamped by a group of attractive co-eds all wanting to buy me a beer or several. Six months ago it would've been heaven, this one brunette in particular.
But I wanted to get back to Spock, to talk to him and hear about what had happened on-board that day, if I'd missed anything, to rant about Jeff and how much I wanted to twist his stupid little head right off his shoulders. I'd told Bones about Spock and me my third day back on the Enterprise after Ping, and Bones had Hah!'d briefly before saying that Spock and I have been acting like we're married for the last eight months.
He could have a point. I look at a flower stall along Fillmore and think about which blooms remind me most of him, and whether or not the lilies I pick out for my place would match his personal taste, which I suspect might head more for one of the orange-red, heavily scented spice geraniums nodding at me from out their pots. I finger at a flower on one of them, noticing how each blossom's made up of five perfectly heart-shaped petals before laughing at myself and moving on with my lilies tucked under my arm. It'd make my mom's year if she knew I was noticing heart-shaped petals and thinking about my sweetheart.
There's a message from her once I get in, her cheek smudged with flour when she says she's making me noodle soup for the weekend, just how I used to like it. I always preferred it when she was too busy with work and used dehydrated noodles like everyone else. I throw my lilies in the cup of water on the table I was too lazy to clear away this morning, stroking along the curved edge of one of the waxy green-white blooms before shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it over one of the chairs at the dining table.
Then I'm left wondering what the hell I'm going to do with myself this evening. At least Starfleet accommodates visiting captains in comfort, and it's been good to catch up with Admiral Pike outside of a work context, but I'm so damn bored I'm ready to do something stupid, truck hopping like when I was a kid, maybe. Then the viewscreen starts to beep at me and I'm temporarily saved from having to entertain myself.
“Oh, it's you. Hey, Bones.”
“Don't sound too overjoyed that it's me and not Loverboy.”
“You checking up on me again?”
He raises a glass of something that looks illegal. “Just settling in for the night, thought I'd say hi. Did you strangle Jeff yet?”
“Came close a few times. I can't put my finger on what it is that's making me need to punch his lights out so bad but, man, he's an annoying little fuck.”
“You're damn right.” He sips his drink, frowning at it with a cough as he swallows. “That's precisely why I picked him out for you. Remembered him from the year below us, a brilliant clinician but the sort of personality you could drive under people's fingernails as a method of torture. Thing is, Jimbo - ”
“You're only calling me that because you're too many light years away right now for me to kick your ass.”
“- Thing is, you're too smart for the other psych-techs. You smile at them and flutter your pretty eyelashes and tell them everything they need to hear, and they sign you off fit for duty. You don't need that this time. You need someone who's able to get underneath all that easy going bullshit you've got everybody else convinced with.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I'm not disagreeing with you.”
“Sure you are, you're just not saying it out loud.” Another cat-who-got-the-cream smile around his glass before he takes another drink and coughs again. “I know you, and I know what you're carrying around with you. Get it untangled before it blows up in all our faces, you hear me?”
“I will have my revenge. I'll make sure of it. Next mission, I'm planning to catch something you've never even heard of.”
He puts down the glass after another sip and pushes it away with a grimace. “Doubtful. We stopped at a trading post two days back for a restock of comestibles, and the anti-viral serum dealt with all kinds of local bugs. Think it's time to hand it over to Fleet Medical so they can expand the trials.”
“Yeah?” I grin huge. “Bones! That's excellent news. You named it yet?”
“Yep, but for some reason the team's not happy with McCoy's Marvelous Cure-All. Ingrates, every last one of them.”
“Another confirmation of your 'forever doomed to be surrounded by idiots' theory.”
“That stopped being a theory the day I met you.”
“Heh, I guess. So . . . You seen much of Spock?”
He raises an eyebrow at how totally pathetic it comes out, even though I'm aiming for breezy nonchalance. “You withering without the light of his presence?”
“Cut that out, and no. Just haven't heard from him in a couple of days.”
“Yeah. Your pointy-eared bastard asked me to let you know he's otherwise engaged. There's been a problem with anti-grav buffers in the fore decks and he's been assisting with a re-fit round the clock.”
“'Fore decks'? Are the labs affected?” There's way too many explosive compounds in there to risk them floating around and into each other.
“Exactly the problem. Don't get all antsy about it, everything's strapped down and, far as I'm aware, Scotty's expecting the new buffers to solve the issue. We're fine, Jim.”
“Guess so. Y'know, you could at least pretend to be struggling to cope without me.”
“Well, it's not the same without you here. I think the hobgoblin's missing you. He's gone into some sort of hyper-efficiency drive and has gotten every department walking on eggshells in case he decides to show up with a checklist and start picking holes in their operation. The buffers failing has been a godsend. Everyone'll be pleased to get you back so they can return to slacking off.”
I grin, aware he's kidding. I've created something of my own reputation for surprise spot-checks, and I kind of like the idea of Spock missing me and getting up everyone's ass because of it. “Glad to hear it. I'll let you get back to whatever that is you're drinking. Do I want to know?”
“Probably best if you don't. A little something I found at the trading post. I might even save you some if you're unlucky.”
“Give Spock a big wet kiss from me next time you bump into him.”
He closes his eyes and shudders. “Thanks in advance for my nightmares this evening. 'Night, Jim.”
“Take it easy, Bones.”
I lean back in the chair, tucking my hands behind my head and wondering what I'm going to do with the rest of the night now I know Spock's still busy. Pike had invited me to a Fleet social tonight but rumors of what happened on Ping are already circulating, Starfleet's grapevine working at full strength, with two of my neighbors in this block alone already stopping me in the communal areas to lend me a sympathetic ear. Not sure I could manage a roomful of them. Maybe I'll hit the gym again, order a pizza later.
But the tub calls once more, one of the bonuses of being on Earth, and I've spent at least an hour of every day here so far floating in scalding hot water and trying to not feel like it's unhealthy to miss this. I strip off as I go, still uncomfortable with clothing, relaxing the second I'm stripped to my shorts.
-
“Spock is not a problem! Spock is great. He's . . . God, he's perfect.”
Jeff gives me a patient, pacifying smile that makes me want to smack it off his face. “I don't recall suggesting otherwise.”
“Then why do you keep asking if I have a buttload of issues with him?”
“I haven't asked you that once.”
“Not in so many words, but you keep bugging me about him. I'm not here for you to poke your nose into my relationship.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Spock is a big part of your life, Jim, you've said it yourself a hundred times in the past weeks. If I'm not permitted to so much as speak his name -”
“I didn't say that. You're putting words in my mouth.”
Jeff takes up his PADD again, his eyes looking into mine steadily.
“If you discourage me from asking about certain areas of your day-to-day existence, it indicates to me there may be an issue there you're not dealing with. I'm not criticizing your mate or your relationship. I'm attempting to encourage you to think about how your trauma on Ping is connected with Spock, because everything you've told me about it, you've related it back to him. Your concern over him, your concern over his reaction to the problems you were encountering, the matter of your rescue . . . each and every time, it comes back to Spock. I can't ignore that, and perhaps you shouldn't, either. Or the fact that you become defensive whenever I approach the subject.”
“I guess.” I sit back down from where I'd started pacing. “Sorry.”
“Can you tell me about why you feel attacked whenever I want to talk about the dynamics of your relationship with Spock?”
“It's new, and I'm protective of it.”
“That's fair.”
“And I wanted it for so long without even realizing. Maybe it's significant I figured it all out when I was on Ping, I don't know.”
Silence. I slump down and stare at the air vents in the ceiling. “I find this easier when you ask me stuff.”
More silence. “Why should there be a connection between how I feel about Spock, and Ping? I've felt this way about him for months. Too stupid to figure it out, but I didn't fall in love with Spock just because he came to rescue me. I'm not that pitiful.”
“Why would that make you pitiful?”
“That's what you comment on?” I comb through my hair and sit forward, hands hanging off my knees. “Because that'd be pretty lame, wouldn't it. Spock saves the day and I swoon at his feet? I'm not that person.”
“Then what person are you?”
“For a start, I'm usually the one doing the saving.” I see Jeff smile out of the corner of my eye, and watch him make a note on his PADD. “Oh, come on, it's not that simple.”
“If you say so.”
“You're really beginning to piss me off, you know that?”
The smile widens. “All part of the service.”
-
His face flickers into place on the small viewscreen this bedroom's got, a few inches high, and I can tell within microseconds that Spock's exhausted and have to physically restrain myself from trying to climb through the screen at him.
“Finally! What's been going on, you look like death warmed over. Did you fix the buffers? Anything explode first? And you tell Mr. Scott that, next time there's an emergency, he needs to make sure that all crew members get adequate rest. You included, acting captain or not. That's an order.”
“Good evening, Jim.”
“And don't give me that 'I don't need sleep because I'm better than the rest of you' bullshit.”
“I intend to meditate then complete a full rest period once our conversation is complete.”
“Good.” I wipe over my face and smile at him. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Everything fixed up?”
“The new anti-gravitational buffers have been installed and are in full working order.”
“Good. Great.”
I keep looking at him, unable to stop smiling at how handsome he is, wanting to rub over the shadows under his eyes and kiss away any lingering tiredness. He seems content enough to sit there and be looked at, neither of us speaking a word for a minute or so as we drink each other in. But then it starts to feel weird and I have to say something, even though I know enough to understand that silence is never a problem as far as he's concerned.
“I miss you.”
“My time has been fully occupied since we have last spoken, but you are never far from my thoughts.”
“You're so mushy.”
“Is that a complimentary term?”
“Not exactly. You're cute, too.”
Spock gives me an uncertain look and I laugh and lie back, getting comfortable on the bed with my arms tucked behind my head. “You are. No getting away from it, sorry.”
But he's not looking at my face, and I glance down to notice my t-shirt's ridden up and he's staring at my bare stomach. “Checking out the merchandize?”
“Your weight has increased.”
I tug my shirt up higher and rub over my gut. “Not bad, eh? My butt's getting back to normal, too, courtesy of about a million leg lifts and a cheese-ham croissant every morning. Wanna look?”
He blinks. “You wish to further experiment with shared sexual activity?”
“No, I thought you might like to see how my ass is returning to its former glory.” I roll over and tug my shorts down enough to bare half a cheek so I can give it a slap. “You'll be able to get your teeth into this bad boy in just over a week.”
“If you insist.”
His voice has dropped into that low purr, and arousal seeps into me, my cock beginning to throb against the bed. “I do insist. You know, I'm not opposed to further experimentation with shared sexual activity this evening. Are you too tired? You look too tired.”
It's an instant return to that same awkwardness as before, Spock's expression going blank as he retreats internally. “No, I am not, but, as I have explained to you, I am not well-practiced in self-gratification techniques.”
“Trust me, I've had more than enough practice for the both of us. But, yeah, I know. Don't sweat it.”
He eyebrows at me, probably just because he knows it'll make me chuckle. “I do not sweat.”
“What do you want about instead? I don't want to talk about the sessions. Please don't ask me to talk about the sessions, I've been talking about nothing but that bullshit for days.”
“Remove your clothing.”
“But I thought you didn't want to -”
“Indulge me. Remove your clothing.”
Hot damn. “Is that an order, Acting Captain?”
“It is.”
I grin and hump against the bed where I'm getting fully hard, reaching over my shoulders to grab my shirt and pull it off, throwing it to the floor next to the bed. “Like this?”
“Turn onto your back and remove your underwear.”
“Oh, fuck. Yes, sir.” I roll back to lie flat, pushing my shorts down, my dick slapping against my belly hard as it springs out from the waistband. Soon as I've kicked the shorts off I let my knees fall open, stroking down over my chest with both hands. “Like what you see?”
I know he does, I can tell from the heat in his eyes and how his mouth's dropped open by the smallest fraction. “You will address me by rank.”
My throat makes a strangled noise that doesn't qualify as speech. “Shit. You're going to kill me with this. Yes, Captain, sir.”
“Very good. Wet your forefingers and your thumbs with saliva.”
“Okay.” I look at him while I do it, running my tongue around the pad of my forefinger, remembering how his dick hardened against my thigh the first time I did this to him. Then my thumb, my other hand, watching him watch me. “You want me to suck them?”
“What I want is for you to convince me that you are able to follow a simple set of instructions without further qualification.”
My ass clenches hard at the tone of his voice and I hiss, closing my eyes as a fresh wave of arousal sweeps up my spine. “Understood, Captain.”
“Pinch your nipples.”
Oh, goddamn. Spock's missed his vocation, his voice cool and deep with a precise hint of command in it that is perfect for this. “Yes, sir.”
“Again. Harder.”
I wince, my nuts feeling full and heavy, my stomach wet with pre-cum as my dick twitches and leaks each time I pinch.
“Your position is less than optimal. Turn towards me, with your feet closest to the viewscreen.”
“Like this?”
He looks at me all spread out in front of him, hard dick drooling over my belly, balls drawn up tight, my legs wide, keeps looking with his hot, intense eyes as I keep fingering my nipples.
“It is an improvement. Place your hands flat on your chest. Stroke them down towards your groin and imagine that they are my own as you reach between your legs to cup your scrotum.”
I moan as I do it, closing my eyes again to imagine Spock's hands moving over my skin, his fingers sliding through my pubic hair as his thumbs stroke over my nuts.
“Describe the sensations to me.”
“It feels so good. My balls are so sensitive,” I stroke underneath, grazing my taint with a blunt fingernail. “It makes my dick ache when you touch me like this.”
“Draw your fingernails up along your inner thighs.”
His voice is husked, almost a growl, and I do it, raking my nails up as I spread my legs. It sends shivers of heat up into my nuts and ass and I moan, beginning to pant.
“Again.”
“Please.” It's breathy, a deep itch building in the tip of my dick that I can't deny much longer. “Fuck, Spock, please touch me.”
“Convince me.”
I'm mindlessly stroking my thighs, fucking my hips up into the air needing more, a touch, anything. “Stroke my cock, please, I need to come, grab my dick and jack me off fast.”
“No. I will not.”
I stroke up, sliding my hands over my hot skin, my pubes damp with sweat as I get as close to touching my dick as I think I can get away with. “But I need it, I need to shoot, I'm aching so bad.”
“Take your penis in your right hand and stroke yourself for me, slowly, root to glans, five times only.”
“Fuck yes, sir.”
My hand is shaking as I wrap it tight around my cock for a first squeeze, groaning and arching against the bed as I do. I slide it up, rubbing my thumb over my slit with another hiss as I force myself to slowly move back down. “One.”
“Very good. Continue.”
I do it again, the contact not enough, not fast or hard enough as I squeeze tighter and let out a shuddering groan, my cock leaking over my knuckles as I stroke back down, not pausing before repeating the action. “Two. Th-three. Four.”
One more time and I'm never going to be able to let go, my asshole clenching, the itch of my growing climax throbbing angrily at the tip of my dick and all the way down into my nuts. “Five.”
“Remove your hand from your shaft.”
“I can't. Don't make me.”
“I do not wish to repeat myself.”
I do it with a grunt of frustration, clenching my teeth as I glare at him angrily on the viewscreen. “I need to come, Captain. Enough playing around.”
Spock's cheeks are flushed delicately, his eyes narrowed and feral-looking , the tip of his tongue poking out to touch the corner of his mouth as he stares at my dick. I'm panting for breath, the covers on the bed too rough against my skin, the air in here stuffy and heavy with the scent of the pre-cum smeared across my stomach. Then he looks directly into my eyes and the want there is as unhidden and uncontrolled as his anger was that one day when he held me down and started to choke the life out of me.
“If you were here, would you fuck me now?” We haven't done that yet, Spock aggravatingly insistent over the four days we had that my physical recovery had to be prioritized above sexual activity. I pull one knee up with my arm, reaching down with the other hand to rub over my asshole. “Would you pull me onto your cock and bang my brains out?”
“Yes.” A definite growl, his teeth white behind his curled top lip. “Push your forefinger into your anus, then you may proceed to masturbate to orgasm.”
I push in too hard, in a hurry, a dull pain burning around my ass and down my thighs as I spit in my hand and reach down to jerk off.
“Open your eyes and look into mine.”
It's coming on me fast, faster now as I look at him and moan his name, cursing, every muscle on my body tensing as I push into my asshole deeper, the ache helping my climax build as I jack off fast and messy. “Spock, I'm close, I'm so fucking close.”
“Then come for me. Now.”
It hits me and I start to shoot so hard that it splatters over my open, gasping mouth, my chin and neck, my body shaking with the strength of it as I curse and cry out. I can't stop coming, milking more and more out of my dick as my asshole spasms around my finger. Then it starts to move on, flowing into the rest of me as my aching muscles begin to relax, the frantic clenching of my ass slowing down as I jack my cock a few more times, lungs fighting for enough breath.
“Fuck. Fuck. Holy fuck. Ugh.” I start laughing as I reach up to wipe my chin and neck, licking my cum off my lips. “Look at this. You made a mess of me.”
“My apologies.”
“Where the hell did you learn that from? Or should I ask who?”
He tilts his head, the corner of his lips curving upwards as his eyes lengthen, Spock's smile, the one that makes my heart go into freefall. “I improvised.”
“Nice job, 'Captain'.”
“It achieved the desired result.”
“I'll say.” I grab my shirt off the floor and start wiping myself down, none of the awkwardness now of last time, even though it's hitting me now that he's not here to kiss or or nuzzle on or press back into the bed so I can reciprocate. “You don't need to . . . ?”
“I am not physically aroused.” His eyebrows draw together, not quite a frown. “However, I believe it make take me some time to settle my mind to the point where I am able to enter a meditative state.”
“It'd help if you tried out some self-gratification techniques first. You just got a practical demonstration from a lifelong enthusiast.”
“Perhaps on our next call. You appear to be fatigued.”
“Mmm, yeah.” I stretch my legs out, everything warm and relaxed, muscles popping and fizzing with the last few aftershocks. “Think I'll nap for awhile before I go eat.”
I flop over onto my belly, scooting over towards the viewscreen to get comfortable, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under my head. “Doesn't it make you pissed, that there's likely to be a bunch of times when work's going to separate us?”
“The majority of our time will be spent together, both in a professional and a domestic sense. Does that concern you?”
“What, that we'll get to be together close to every minute of the day? Hell, no. Looking forward to it. Does it bother you?”
“It does not. Furthermore, during times of physical separation, our bond will enable us to remain aware of the other. Once bonded, we will never be completely separate from one another, no matter the distance involved.”
“Don't start thinking I'm getting cold feet here. And don't say a damn thing about the temperature of my extremities, which are fine. I want this.”
“There are other matters that we must discuss prior to completing our bond, whether we choose to do so ceremoniously or privately.”
“We can do it privately? We don't have to have, like, a big Vulcan party thing? Me in a dress?”
“You may wear a dress for our bonding if it will make the experience more pleasing to you.”
“No, I'm serious. We can do it just us two?”
“I believe so.” He's going into professor mode, I can feel it, folding his hands into each other and concentrating on them. I want to muss his hair. I was outraged to discover he's not ticklish. He's like a fresh white wall and I'm a kid with a marker.
“My mind is powerfully drawn to yours, to a much greater extent than those of other individuals. It is why I avoided your touch beyond the care I would habitually take, in past days. It is not that my telepathic shields are unable to protect me from your thoughts, but more that I am attracted to them, much as a negative charge pulls towards a positive. I have had to remain vigilant in order to not allow my mind to open itself fully to yours at every contact. It is why I found the choice of my older counterpart to meld with you so hastily,” He purses his lips in subtle disapproval. “A questionable act of judgment.”
“It's cute when you get all jealous.”
“Vulcans are possessive of their bondmates. At times, to the point of violence.”
“Violence?” It makes me sit up. “What, you're going to go all caveman and beat the crap out of anyone who looks at me? Because we both know that's unacceptable.”
His throat moves as he swallows, his eyes remaining focused on his hands.
“It is the prime matter of Vulcan physiology that we will need to discuss. I am customarily able to control my more possessory instincts and it should not be a matter for your concern.”
“However . . . ?”
“The Vulcan drive to procreate operates on a cyclical system.”
“Okay.”
“It is not something we discuss openly and, due to my hybrid nature and resultant sterility, I hope it is something that I may be spared. That we may be spared.”
“You're sterile?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh. Okay. We've not talked about kids but I'm not in any hurry.” No hurry at all. Seriously. God. “Are you?”
His eyes lose focus as he considers it internally. “I am not.”
“Great.” This has got to be the most involved post-orgasmic conversation I've ever had, and I'm fighting a yawn, covering it with the back of my hand. “So. The Vulcan procreatory drive. How long was your mom bonded to your dad, Spock?”
His frown deepens. “My parents' marriage may not be an accurate indicator of how we might choose to address the issue of my time, should it come, as there were several options of external assistance available to them if required. It is not a subject I discussed with my mother, nor with my father.”
His tone implies that he never intends to and that I can't make him. “Which of these external options would be open to us, if necessary?”
“I am uncertain what facilities have been established at the new colony.”
“Spock, come on, you know what I'm saying. You've shown me those holos of your mom. You think there's anything of a physical nature she could've dealt with that I couldn't? Because I'm about five seconds from getting offended if you do.”
“It is important that you are fully aware of the consequences of bonding yourself to a Vulcan mate. If I were to hurt you, or worse, injure you beyond possible recovery -”
“Listen up.” I wish I could touch him so he'd know for sure I mean every word. “I can take whatever you throw at me. You're not going to worm your way out of this that easily, especially now you've told me I don't have to bond with you in some big, stupid ceremonial thing. Which I'd do, if I had to, because I'm in love with you and would toboggan down Qomolangma naked if I had to.”
“That will not be required.”
“Good. Well, Mr. Spock, now that you've harshed my afterglow, I'm going to go soak in the tub then drink several beers and eat a bunch of crap Bones wouldn't approve of. You going to be okay?”
He inclines his head, so elegant, so entirely graceful. “Our conversation has given me much to meditate on, and I believe will assist me in doing so.”
“Glad to hear it.” I don't want to say goodbye. I'd keep him on all night if I could, but he's tired, his face paler than usual. “You look after yourself. Get some sleep.”
“I will. Rest well, t'hy'la.”
The screen flickers out, a news bulletin I was looking at before scrolling across. I stare at it dumbly for a second with no idea what he just called me. Whatever it was, I liked it.
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Length: 7k
For: awarrington ♥
Warnings: I put James T. Kirk in therapy. I'm not sure what this says about me
Summary: The Enterprise crew makes contact with a planet where an all-male society thinks they're sexual catnip, and decides to keep and marry them all against their will.
“Jim? I've lost you again.”
“I'm sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Strength. You were describing what strength means to you, what different types of strength you think there are, which are most important in your mind, then you said 'Spock's strong in more ways than I can count' and zoned out.”
“I guess my mind's not on this today.”
“Hmm. Okay.” Jeff keys a note onto his PADD.
“What?” I sound irritated because those little Hmms started to piss me off two weeks back, ten minutes into our first session.
“Do you think it's interesting that you lose focus every time you talk about Spock?”
“Trust me, if you'd ever met Spock you'd understand.”
Jeff picks up three different mugs from his coffee table before he finds his most recent. “I had Professor Spock for second year Xenocultural Studies. He is memorable, I'll give him that.”
“Yeah. He is.”
The familiar ache starts up again and I close my eyes, thinking of his last words to me the morning I left and how he stared at me as if storing every physical detail within that terrifying brain of his as I traced his eyebrows and whispered his name. Then I blink and come back to the room in a rush as Jeff snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.
“Come on, Jim, we're here to work.”
“Fuck.” I rub my face with both hands and sit further upright in my chair. “I didn't get to speak to him last night, again. Didn't sleep much either. This has got to be frustrating for you, counseling someone so freshly head over heels in love that they can't keep their mind on the subject of their own trauma.”
“Whatever's frustrating to me or not is my business, but no, I take anything that challenges my clinical skills as a positive learning experience. How about we go over the specific challenges you've identified that you faced on Ping, and expand more on which demanded more of you as a captain, and as an individual.”
“Again? Do we have to?”
“Of course not, no.” Another note on his PADD. I feel like grabbing it and busting it open over his carroty head.
“Okay.” I bite at my top lip, looking at him as he looks back at me with an air of calm expectancy, waiting for me to say something. “What? I don't know what I'm supposed to talk about if we're not talking about Ping.”
“Would you like to talk about Spock?”
“I think we've already confirmed that my mind tends to wander when I'm talking about Spock.”
“Uhuh. And why do you think that is?”
“Because I had four nights of the greatest sex of my life with someone who feels like they're a part of me, but now I'm sitting here talking to you? Why the hell do you think!”
I get up out of my chair so fast it falls over with a thump, and I cross Jeff's small office to glare out the window, hoping watching the clouds hanging low and rolling lazily across a teal sky to the far horizon will calm me down. I always watch the skies when I'm home. They're maybe the one thing I miss about this place. There's an intense silence coming from Jeff's direction, waiting, watching me. He never reacts no matter how explosively my anger blows up.
“Sorry.” More silence. “And, yeah, I know I don't have to apologize, but I was brought up to say sorry when you shout at someone.”
I can hear him going through the same, now-familiar coffee mug ritual then taking another slurp as he patiently sits and waits for me to speak. It reminds me that I've been meaning to pick up a self-heating mug for him as a leaving gift once he signs me off. If that's ever going to happen. I turn back to him, giving him a conciliatory smile.
“Should we talk about my mother?”
“I don't know. Should we?”
I grit my teeth and somehow manage not to start smacking my head against the window pane. “You're the expert.”
“Not in the subject of what's contributing to your continued distress. Not until you let me know.”
“Then why do you keep asking about Spock?”
Another note, then he crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. “Why do you think I keep asking about Spock?”
“Please, for the love of all that's good in the universe, stop doing that.”
“You want me to stop doing my job?”
“If your job is to piss me off, then yeah, I do.”
“You're a smart guy, Jim. Smarter than me. Why would I keep turning your questions back at you?”
I screw my eyes closed, my hands making fists against my thighs as I breathe out and try not to imagine his face if I threw the coffee table at him.
“Because I'm unconsciously asking you the questions I need to answer. But that's such bullshit.”
He shrugs, and I eye the coffee table, trying to figure out how heavy it is. “Maybe it is.”
“I haven't asked you anything about Spock.”
“No, but you have to admit he's been a recurrent theme in our sessions so far, either as a distraction from moving any deeper into what's going on in your head or as a primary participant in your description to me of what happened on Ping.”
“He's a recurrent theme because it's new. And big, important to me. More important than anything.”
“So why wouldn't you want to discuss him?”
“Who's said anything about me not wanting to discuss Spock?”
“Then why don't you sit down and we'll talk about him. Get away from the subject of Ping.”
I throw myself back into my chair, slumping down and stretching my legs out in front of me. “Fine. What do you want to know about Spock?” I already know what he's going to say, so say it for him. “'Well, Jim, what would you like me to know about Spock?'”
He nods approvingly, slurping his coffee and looking down at his notes on his PADD.
“Spock is as different to me than anyone I've ever met. We're night and day. You know they say opposites attract? There's got to be a limit to that, though.”
“What would you say your similarities are?”
“Ooh, fuck.” I pick at a hangnail while I think about it. “We're both Command. We both work too hard, and have high expectations of those around us. We both push ourselves, physically and mentally. We both play chess. We're a similar age, although Vulcans age differently to us so I don't know how meaningful that is.”
“Anything else?”
“We both like to be in control.”
Shit. Where did that come from? The air in here's stagnant all of a sudden, panic rising in my throat for absolutely no reason at all. “I mean, he's Vulcan, so of course, he's, uh, he keeps himself tightly controlled, but I'm, I don't know, it's my job to keep control of the situation where possible and I've always been drawn to the lead, but I wouldn't say I'm controlling exactly . . .”
I trail off, aware I'm babbling and beginning to sweat, the looming darkness of the mine's canyon clinging and tugging at the soles of my feet as I scramble to pull myself back up. Jeff puts the PADD down on the coffee table and looks at me, no sign of concern.
“How would you say your desire to be in control manifests itself?”
I swallow and force myself to calm, not wanting him to see me gasping for breath. “I thought we were talking about Spock.”
“We can talk about Spock if you'd prefer.”
“Yeah. I would.”
I think about Spock's hands, his fingers pushing deep inside me that last night as I rocked my hips back and came. How his eyes never changed in expression the whole time, looking down at me with an intense possessiveness that I recognize now as how he looked at me in that bed with Sextus plastered naked to my back. I think about his face, so composed on our comm-chat our first night apart, all business and polite query until I asked if maybe we both should naked and do stuff together, and how awkward it was when we did, so much of ourselves lost in distance.
“Jim? You in there?”
“I did it again?”
Jeff nods, his gray eyes serious over the top of the PADD as he re-crosses his legs the other way and sighs. “You did, just as we were getting somewhere. Funny how that keeps happening.”
-
It doesn't seem to make sense how sitting on your ass in a room with a stranger for day after day is so tiring, but it is and I fought sleep every single cab ride back to the Fleet apartment I'm staying in until I figured out that the walk would actually wake me up. It's no more than three miles, an hour if I take my time and stop for a coffee, although the Academy sits halfway between Jeff's office and my apartment so the coffee shops along the way are crammed with a new year's intake, who all seem to recognize me and want to hear all about what Nero was like. The one time I thought it'd be nice to stroll across the campus itself for the hell of it ended up with me being swamped by a group of attractive co-eds all wanting to buy me a beer or several. Six months ago it would've been heaven, this one brunette in particular.
But I wanted to get back to Spock, to talk to him and hear about what had happened on-board that day, if I'd missed anything, to rant about Jeff and how much I wanted to twist his stupid little head right off his shoulders. I'd told Bones about Spock and me my third day back on the Enterprise after Ping, and Bones had Hah!'d briefly before saying that Spock and I have been acting like we're married for the last eight months.
He could have a point. I look at a flower stall along Fillmore and think about which blooms remind me most of him, and whether or not the lilies I pick out for my place would match his personal taste, which I suspect might head more for one of the orange-red, heavily scented spice geraniums nodding at me from out their pots. I finger at a flower on one of them, noticing how each blossom's made up of five perfectly heart-shaped petals before laughing at myself and moving on with my lilies tucked under my arm. It'd make my mom's year if she knew I was noticing heart-shaped petals and thinking about my sweetheart.
There's a message from her once I get in, her cheek smudged with flour when she says she's making me noodle soup for the weekend, just how I used to like it. I always preferred it when she was too busy with work and used dehydrated noodles like everyone else. I throw my lilies in the cup of water on the table I was too lazy to clear away this morning, stroking along the curved edge of one of the waxy green-white blooms before shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it over one of the chairs at the dining table.
Then I'm left wondering what the hell I'm going to do with myself this evening. At least Starfleet accommodates visiting captains in comfort, and it's been good to catch up with Admiral Pike outside of a work context, but I'm so damn bored I'm ready to do something stupid, truck hopping like when I was a kid, maybe. Then the viewscreen starts to beep at me and I'm temporarily saved from having to entertain myself.
“Oh, it's you. Hey, Bones.”
“Don't sound too overjoyed that it's me and not Loverboy.”
“You checking up on me again?”
He raises a glass of something that looks illegal. “Just settling in for the night, thought I'd say hi. Did you strangle Jeff yet?”
“Came close a few times. I can't put my finger on what it is that's making me need to punch his lights out so bad but, man, he's an annoying little fuck.”
“You're damn right.” He sips his drink, frowning at it with a cough as he swallows. “That's precisely why I picked him out for you. Remembered him from the year below us, a brilliant clinician but the sort of personality you could drive under people's fingernails as a method of torture. Thing is, Jimbo - ”
“You're only calling me that because you're too many light years away right now for me to kick your ass.”
“- Thing is, you're too smart for the other psych-techs. You smile at them and flutter your pretty eyelashes and tell them everything they need to hear, and they sign you off fit for duty. You don't need that this time. You need someone who's able to get underneath all that easy going bullshit you've got everybody else convinced with.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I'm not disagreeing with you.”
“Sure you are, you're just not saying it out loud.” Another cat-who-got-the-cream smile around his glass before he takes another drink and coughs again. “I know you, and I know what you're carrying around with you. Get it untangled before it blows up in all our faces, you hear me?”
“I will have my revenge. I'll make sure of it. Next mission, I'm planning to catch something you've never even heard of.”
He puts down the glass after another sip and pushes it away with a grimace. “Doubtful. We stopped at a trading post two days back for a restock of comestibles, and the anti-viral serum dealt with all kinds of local bugs. Think it's time to hand it over to Fleet Medical so they can expand the trials.”
“Yeah?” I grin huge. “Bones! That's excellent news. You named it yet?”
“Yep, but for some reason the team's not happy with McCoy's Marvelous Cure-All. Ingrates, every last one of them.”
“Another confirmation of your 'forever doomed to be surrounded by idiots' theory.”
“That stopped being a theory the day I met you.”
“Heh, I guess. So . . . You seen much of Spock?”
He raises an eyebrow at how totally pathetic it comes out, even though I'm aiming for breezy nonchalance. “You withering without the light of his presence?”
“Cut that out, and no. Just haven't heard from him in a couple of days.”
“Yeah. Your pointy-eared bastard asked me to let you know he's otherwise engaged. There's been a problem with anti-grav buffers in the fore decks and he's been assisting with a re-fit round the clock.”
“'Fore decks'? Are the labs affected?” There's way too many explosive compounds in there to risk them floating around and into each other.
“Exactly the problem. Don't get all antsy about it, everything's strapped down and, far as I'm aware, Scotty's expecting the new buffers to solve the issue. We're fine, Jim.”
“Guess so. Y'know, you could at least pretend to be struggling to cope without me.”
“Well, it's not the same without you here. I think the hobgoblin's missing you. He's gone into some sort of hyper-efficiency drive and has gotten every department walking on eggshells in case he decides to show up with a checklist and start picking holes in their operation. The buffers failing has been a godsend. Everyone'll be pleased to get you back so they can return to slacking off.”
I grin, aware he's kidding. I've created something of my own reputation for surprise spot-checks, and I kind of like the idea of Spock missing me and getting up everyone's ass because of it. “Glad to hear it. I'll let you get back to whatever that is you're drinking. Do I want to know?”
“Probably best if you don't. A little something I found at the trading post. I might even save you some if you're unlucky.”
“Give Spock a big wet kiss from me next time you bump into him.”
He closes his eyes and shudders. “Thanks in advance for my nightmares this evening. 'Night, Jim.”
“Take it easy, Bones.”
I lean back in the chair, tucking my hands behind my head and wondering what I'm going to do with the rest of the night now I know Spock's still busy. Pike had invited me to a Fleet social tonight but rumors of what happened on Ping are already circulating, Starfleet's grapevine working at full strength, with two of my neighbors in this block alone already stopping me in the communal areas to lend me a sympathetic ear. Not sure I could manage a roomful of them. Maybe I'll hit the gym again, order a pizza later.
But the tub calls once more, one of the bonuses of being on Earth, and I've spent at least an hour of every day here so far floating in scalding hot water and trying to not feel like it's unhealthy to miss this. I strip off as I go, still uncomfortable with clothing, relaxing the second I'm stripped to my shorts.
-
“Spock is not a problem! Spock is great. He's . . . God, he's perfect.”
Jeff gives me a patient, pacifying smile that makes me want to smack it off his face. “I don't recall suggesting otherwise.”
“Then why do you keep asking if I have a buttload of issues with him?”
“I haven't asked you that once.”
“Not in so many words, but you keep bugging me about him. I'm not here for you to poke your nose into my relationship.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Spock is a big part of your life, Jim, you've said it yourself a hundred times in the past weeks. If I'm not permitted to so much as speak his name -”
“I didn't say that. You're putting words in my mouth.”
Jeff takes up his PADD again, his eyes looking into mine steadily.
“If you discourage me from asking about certain areas of your day-to-day existence, it indicates to me there may be an issue there you're not dealing with. I'm not criticizing your mate or your relationship. I'm attempting to encourage you to think about how your trauma on Ping is connected with Spock, because everything you've told me about it, you've related it back to him. Your concern over him, your concern over his reaction to the problems you were encountering, the matter of your rescue . . . each and every time, it comes back to Spock. I can't ignore that, and perhaps you shouldn't, either. Or the fact that you become defensive whenever I approach the subject.”
“I guess.” I sit back down from where I'd started pacing. “Sorry.”
“Can you tell me about why you feel attacked whenever I want to talk about the dynamics of your relationship with Spock?”
“It's new, and I'm protective of it.”
“That's fair.”
“And I wanted it for so long without even realizing. Maybe it's significant I figured it all out when I was on Ping, I don't know.”
Silence. I slump down and stare at the air vents in the ceiling. “I find this easier when you ask me stuff.”
More silence. “Why should there be a connection between how I feel about Spock, and Ping? I've felt this way about him for months. Too stupid to figure it out, but I didn't fall in love with Spock just because he came to rescue me. I'm not that pitiful.”
“Why would that make you pitiful?”
“That's what you comment on?” I comb through my hair and sit forward, hands hanging off my knees. “Because that'd be pretty lame, wouldn't it. Spock saves the day and I swoon at his feet? I'm not that person.”
“Then what person are you?”
“For a start, I'm usually the one doing the saving.” I see Jeff smile out of the corner of my eye, and watch him make a note on his PADD. “Oh, come on, it's not that simple.”
“If you say so.”
“You're really beginning to piss me off, you know that?”
The smile widens. “All part of the service.”
-
His face flickers into place on the small viewscreen this bedroom's got, a few inches high, and I can tell within microseconds that Spock's exhausted and have to physically restrain myself from trying to climb through the screen at him.
“Finally! What's been going on, you look like death warmed over. Did you fix the buffers? Anything explode first? And you tell Mr. Scott that, next time there's an emergency, he needs to make sure that all crew members get adequate rest. You included, acting captain or not. That's an order.”
“Good evening, Jim.”
“And don't give me that 'I don't need sleep because I'm better than the rest of you' bullshit.”
“I intend to meditate then complete a full rest period once our conversation is complete.”
“Good.” I wipe over my face and smile at him. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Everything fixed up?”
“The new anti-gravitational buffers have been installed and are in full working order.”
“Good. Great.”
I keep looking at him, unable to stop smiling at how handsome he is, wanting to rub over the shadows under his eyes and kiss away any lingering tiredness. He seems content enough to sit there and be looked at, neither of us speaking a word for a minute or so as we drink each other in. But then it starts to feel weird and I have to say something, even though I know enough to understand that silence is never a problem as far as he's concerned.
“I miss you.”
“My time has been fully occupied since we have last spoken, but you are never far from my thoughts.”
“You're so mushy.”
“Is that a complimentary term?”
“Not exactly. You're cute, too.”
Spock gives me an uncertain look and I laugh and lie back, getting comfortable on the bed with my arms tucked behind my head. “You are. No getting away from it, sorry.”
But he's not looking at my face, and I glance down to notice my t-shirt's ridden up and he's staring at my bare stomach. “Checking out the merchandize?”
“Your weight has increased.”
I tug my shirt up higher and rub over my gut. “Not bad, eh? My butt's getting back to normal, too, courtesy of about a million leg lifts and a cheese-ham croissant every morning. Wanna look?”
He blinks. “You wish to further experiment with shared sexual activity?”
“No, I thought you might like to see how my ass is returning to its former glory.” I roll over and tug my shorts down enough to bare half a cheek so I can give it a slap. “You'll be able to get your teeth into this bad boy in just over a week.”
“If you insist.”
His voice has dropped into that low purr, and arousal seeps into me, my cock beginning to throb against the bed. “I do insist. You know, I'm not opposed to further experimentation with shared sexual activity this evening. Are you too tired? You look too tired.”
It's an instant return to that same awkwardness as before, Spock's expression going blank as he retreats internally. “No, I am not, but, as I have explained to you, I am not well-practiced in self-gratification techniques.”
“Trust me, I've had more than enough practice for the both of us. But, yeah, I know. Don't sweat it.”
He eyebrows at me, probably just because he knows it'll make me chuckle. “I do not sweat.”
“What do you want about instead? I don't want to talk about the sessions. Please don't ask me to talk about the sessions, I've been talking about nothing but that bullshit for days.”
“Remove your clothing.”
“But I thought you didn't want to -”
“Indulge me. Remove your clothing.”
Hot damn. “Is that an order, Acting Captain?”
“It is.”
I grin and hump against the bed where I'm getting fully hard, reaching over my shoulders to grab my shirt and pull it off, throwing it to the floor next to the bed. “Like this?”
“Turn onto your back and remove your underwear.”
“Oh, fuck. Yes, sir.” I roll back to lie flat, pushing my shorts down, my dick slapping against my belly hard as it springs out from the waistband. Soon as I've kicked the shorts off I let my knees fall open, stroking down over my chest with both hands. “Like what you see?”
I know he does, I can tell from the heat in his eyes and how his mouth's dropped open by the smallest fraction. “You will address me by rank.”
My throat makes a strangled noise that doesn't qualify as speech. “Shit. You're going to kill me with this. Yes, Captain, sir.”
“Very good. Wet your forefingers and your thumbs with saliva.”
“Okay.” I look at him while I do it, running my tongue around the pad of my forefinger, remembering how his dick hardened against my thigh the first time I did this to him. Then my thumb, my other hand, watching him watch me. “You want me to suck them?”
“What I want is for you to convince me that you are able to follow a simple set of instructions without further qualification.”
My ass clenches hard at the tone of his voice and I hiss, closing my eyes as a fresh wave of arousal sweeps up my spine. “Understood, Captain.”
“Pinch your nipples.”
Oh, goddamn. Spock's missed his vocation, his voice cool and deep with a precise hint of command in it that is perfect for this. “Yes, sir.”
“Again. Harder.”
I wince, my nuts feeling full and heavy, my stomach wet with pre-cum as my dick twitches and leaks each time I pinch.
“Your position is less than optimal. Turn towards me, with your feet closest to the viewscreen.”
“Like this?”
He looks at me all spread out in front of him, hard dick drooling over my belly, balls drawn up tight, my legs wide, keeps looking with his hot, intense eyes as I keep fingering my nipples.
“It is an improvement. Place your hands flat on your chest. Stroke them down towards your groin and imagine that they are my own as you reach between your legs to cup your scrotum.”
I moan as I do it, closing my eyes again to imagine Spock's hands moving over my skin, his fingers sliding through my pubic hair as his thumbs stroke over my nuts.
“Describe the sensations to me.”
“It feels so good. My balls are so sensitive,” I stroke underneath, grazing my taint with a blunt fingernail. “It makes my dick ache when you touch me like this.”
“Draw your fingernails up along your inner thighs.”
His voice is husked, almost a growl, and I do it, raking my nails up as I spread my legs. It sends shivers of heat up into my nuts and ass and I moan, beginning to pant.
“Again.”
“Please.” It's breathy, a deep itch building in the tip of my dick that I can't deny much longer. “Fuck, Spock, please touch me.”
“Convince me.”
I'm mindlessly stroking my thighs, fucking my hips up into the air needing more, a touch, anything. “Stroke my cock, please, I need to come, grab my dick and jack me off fast.”
“No. I will not.”
I stroke up, sliding my hands over my hot skin, my pubes damp with sweat as I get as close to touching my dick as I think I can get away with. “But I need it, I need to shoot, I'm aching so bad.”
“Take your penis in your right hand and stroke yourself for me, slowly, root to glans, five times only.”
“Fuck yes, sir.”
My hand is shaking as I wrap it tight around my cock for a first squeeze, groaning and arching against the bed as I do. I slide it up, rubbing my thumb over my slit with another hiss as I force myself to slowly move back down. “One.”
“Very good. Continue.”
I do it again, the contact not enough, not fast or hard enough as I squeeze tighter and let out a shuddering groan, my cock leaking over my knuckles as I stroke back down, not pausing before repeating the action. “Two. Th-three. Four.”
One more time and I'm never going to be able to let go, my asshole clenching, the itch of my growing climax throbbing angrily at the tip of my dick and all the way down into my nuts. “Five.”
“Remove your hand from your shaft.”
“I can't. Don't make me.”
“I do not wish to repeat myself.”
I do it with a grunt of frustration, clenching my teeth as I glare at him angrily on the viewscreen. “I need to come, Captain. Enough playing around.”
Spock's cheeks are flushed delicately, his eyes narrowed and feral-looking , the tip of his tongue poking out to touch the corner of his mouth as he stares at my dick. I'm panting for breath, the covers on the bed too rough against my skin, the air in here stuffy and heavy with the scent of the pre-cum smeared across my stomach. Then he looks directly into my eyes and the want there is as unhidden and uncontrolled as his anger was that one day when he held me down and started to choke the life out of me.
“If you were here, would you fuck me now?” We haven't done that yet, Spock aggravatingly insistent over the four days we had that my physical recovery had to be prioritized above sexual activity. I pull one knee up with my arm, reaching down with the other hand to rub over my asshole. “Would you pull me onto your cock and bang my brains out?”
“Yes.” A definite growl, his teeth white behind his curled top lip. “Push your forefinger into your anus, then you may proceed to masturbate to orgasm.”
I push in too hard, in a hurry, a dull pain burning around my ass and down my thighs as I spit in my hand and reach down to jerk off.
“Open your eyes and look into mine.”
It's coming on me fast, faster now as I look at him and moan his name, cursing, every muscle on my body tensing as I push into my asshole deeper, the ache helping my climax build as I jack off fast and messy. “Spock, I'm close, I'm so fucking close.”
“Then come for me. Now.”
It hits me and I start to shoot so hard that it splatters over my open, gasping mouth, my chin and neck, my body shaking with the strength of it as I curse and cry out. I can't stop coming, milking more and more out of my dick as my asshole spasms around my finger. Then it starts to move on, flowing into the rest of me as my aching muscles begin to relax, the frantic clenching of my ass slowing down as I jack my cock a few more times, lungs fighting for enough breath.
“Fuck. Fuck. Holy fuck. Ugh.” I start laughing as I reach up to wipe my chin and neck, licking my cum off my lips. “Look at this. You made a mess of me.”
“My apologies.”
“Where the hell did you learn that from? Or should I ask who?”
He tilts his head, the corner of his lips curving upwards as his eyes lengthen, Spock's smile, the one that makes my heart go into freefall. “I improvised.”
“Nice job, 'Captain'.”
“It achieved the desired result.”
“I'll say.” I grab my shirt off the floor and start wiping myself down, none of the awkwardness now of last time, even though it's hitting me now that he's not here to kiss or or nuzzle on or press back into the bed so I can reciprocate. “You don't need to . . . ?”
“I am not physically aroused.” His eyebrows draw together, not quite a frown. “However, I believe it make take me some time to settle my mind to the point where I am able to enter a meditative state.”
“It'd help if you tried out some self-gratification techniques first. You just got a practical demonstration from a lifelong enthusiast.”
“Perhaps on our next call. You appear to be fatigued.”
“Mmm, yeah.” I stretch my legs out, everything warm and relaxed, muscles popping and fizzing with the last few aftershocks. “Think I'll nap for awhile before I go eat.”
I flop over onto my belly, scooting over towards the viewscreen to get comfortable, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under my head. “Doesn't it make you pissed, that there's likely to be a bunch of times when work's going to separate us?”
“The majority of our time will be spent together, both in a professional and a domestic sense. Does that concern you?”
“What, that we'll get to be together close to every minute of the day? Hell, no. Looking forward to it. Does it bother you?”
“It does not. Furthermore, during times of physical separation, our bond will enable us to remain aware of the other. Once bonded, we will never be completely separate from one another, no matter the distance involved.”
“Don't start thinking I'm getting cold feet here. And don't say a damn thing about the temperature of my extremities, which are fine. I want this.”
“There are other matters that we must discuss prior to completing our bond, whether we choose to do so ceremoniously or privately.”
“We can do it privately? We don't have to have, like, a big Vulcan party thing? Me in a dress?”
“You may wear a dress for our bonding if it will make the experience more pleasing to you.”
“No, I'm serious. We can do it just us two?”
“I believe so.” He's going into professor mode, I can feel it, folding his hands into each other and concentrating on them. I want to muss his hair. I was outraged to discover he's not ticklish. He's like a fresh white wall and I'm a kid with a marker.
“My mind is powerfully drawn to yours, to a much greater extent than those of other individuals. It is why I avoided your touch beyond the care I would habitually take, in past days. It is not that my telepathic shields are unable to protect me from your thoughts, but more that I am attracted to them, much as a negative charge pulls towards a positive. I have had to remain vigilant in order to not allow my mind to open itself fully to yours at every contact. It is why I found the choice of my older counterpart to meld with you so hastily,” He purses his lips in subtle disapproval. “A questionable act of judgment.”
“It's cute when you get all jealous.”
“Vulcans are possessive of their bondmates. At times, to the point of violence.”
“Violence?” It makes me sit up. “What, you're going to go all caveman and beat the crap out of anyone who looks at me? Because we both know that's unacceptable.”
His throat moves as he swallows, his eyes remaining focused on his hands.
“It is the prime matter of Vulcan physiology that we will need to discuss. I am customarily able to control my more possessory instincts and it should not be a matter for your concern.”
“However . . . ?”
“The Vulcan drive to procreate operates on a cyclical system.”
“Okay.”
“It is not something we discuss openly and, due to my hybrid nature and resultant sterility, I hope it is something that I may be spared. That we may be spared.”
“You're sterile?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh. Okay. We've not talked about kids but I'm not in any hurry.” No hurry at all. Seriously. God. “Are you?”
His eyes lose focus as he considers it internally. “I am not.”
“Great.” This has got to be the most involved post-orgasmic conversation I've ever had, and I'm fighting a yawn, covering it with the back of my hand. “So. The Vulcan procreatory drive. How long was your mom bonded to your dad, Spock?”
His frown deepens. “My parents' marriage may not be an accurate indicator of how we might choose to address the issue of my time, should it come, as there were several options of external assistance available to them if required. It is not a subject I discussed with my mother, nor with my father.”
His tone implies that he never intends to and that I can't make him. “Which of these external options would be open to us, if necessary?”
“I am uncertain what facilities have been established at the new colony.”
“Spock, come on, you know what I'm saying. You've shown me those holos of your mom. You think there's anything of a physical nature she could've dealt with that I couldn't? Because I'm about five seconds from getting offended if you do.”
“It is important that you are fully aware of the consequences of bonding yourself to a Vulcan mate. If I were to hurt you, or worse, injure you beyond possible recovery -”
“Listen up.” I wish I could touch him so he'd know for sure I mean every word. “I can take whatever you throw at me. You're not going to worm your way out of this that easily, especially now you've told me I don't have to bond with you in some big, stupid ceremonial thing. Which I'd do, if I had to, because I'm in love with you and would toboggan down Qomolangma naked if I had to.”
“That will not be required.”
“Good. Well, Mr. Spock, now that you've harshed my afterglow, I'm going to go soak in the tub then drink several beers and eat a bunch of crap Bones wouldn't approve of. You going to be okay?”
He inclines his head, so elegant, so entirely graceful. “Our conversation has given me much to meditate on, and I believe will assist me in doing so.”
“Glad to hear it.” I don't want to say goodbye. I'd keep him on all night if I could, but he's tired, his face paler than usual. “You look after yourself. Get some sleep.”
“I will. Rest well, t'hy'la.”
The screen flickers out, a news bulletin I was looking at before scrolling across. I stare at it dumbly for a second with no idea what he just called me. Whatever it was, I liked it.