Fic: Life of Syvek, Pt. 1

Apr 18, 2011 15:13

Title: Life of Syvek, Pt. 1
Author: brown-polyester
Universe/Series: Star Trek: TOS
Rating: NC-17 at times
Relationship status: Established
Word count: 10,062 total; 4,451 this part
Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance, Drama
Tropes: Kidfic, Family
Warnings: None
Additional Pairings: A little Syvek/OFC, but the kid's 2.5-ish, so... yeah...
Author's Notes: Part 3 has some (probably terrible) Vulcan words in it, so if you're a Vulcan scholar, let me know if it sucks. If you're not a Vulcan scholar, it's a good thing I put a translation in parentheses beside the Vulcan words!
Summary: “All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training and The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk.


One day old

“What are you feeding him?” Winona asked, addressing her son without taking her eyes off her new grandson.

“What do you mean? Bottles…?”

“Jimmy,” she sighed, exasperated at his seeming ignorance, but Kirk knew that she was actually irritated that she had to look away from Syvek in order to see her own son. “What are you putting in the bottles?”

“Oh. Formula.” He braced himself, knowing what would come next.

“You know, you were breastfed. For almost two years.”

“I know,” he sighed, familiar with the stories of the sacrifices she’d made to be the best possible mother. “Wait, two years! Isn’t that a little long?”

“Well, it was actually 19 months,” she admitted reluctantly. “However, the average worldwide age of weaning is three years.”

“Look, Mom, formula has come a long way since the 1950s,” he said, a statement of truth that was augmented by an exaggerated tone and choice of year. “It’s just as nutritious as breast milk, and it apparently tastes the same. So I’ve been told.”

“Breast milk contains a mother’s natural antibodies that contribute to an infant’s developing immune system. I don't care how far it's come; formula can't replicate that.”

“Mom, I don’t even know why we’re arguing about this! It’s not as if we have an option.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jim, you know you can take hormone injections that will allow your body to produce milk, right?”

“Oh. My. God. Have you seen my chest? It’s a work of art! I will not grow..." He shook his head and gestured to his chest. "Besides, Spock was breastfed, but his mother had to intersperse feedings with a formula that contained Vulcan nutrients that she couldn’t manufacture.”

“So if she ‘interspersed’ with formula,” she started, and even if the call hadn’t included a video feed, he would’ve known she’d used air quotes, “you can, too. If your problem is with growing breasts, you could employ a wet nurse. And if you don't want to upset your body's natural hormones, you use the alternative method of using a breast pump to stimulate your nipples until they begin to produce milk.”

Kirk was fairly certain that his face was beet red by this point in their conversation. All he had wanted to do was to introduce his mother to her newest grandson and hopefully use the visual facet of the communication to distract her from asking any extensive questions about the boy’s origins. He was beginning to regret suggesting to Spock that he make the call alone because he was now hoping that some sort of energy entity would strike him down, and at least Spock could take the kid away before Kirk hit the ground. “I’m not going to screw up my chest! I was not kidding; it’s beautiful.”

Mrs. Kirk rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Probably the only characteristic of yours that surpasses the aesthetic qualities of your body is your strong sense of modesty. Besides, I never said you had to be the one who took the hormone injections…” She trailed off meaningfully.

Kirk’s life had often been saved, literally and figuratively, by his quick thinking. Part of the reason he and Spock had initially gotten along so well was due to the speed at which his mind worked. Beating Spock at a game of chess or in a match of wits was their equivalent of a seven-year-old kid pulling another seven-year-old kid’s hair. But in this supremely uncomfortable conversation with his mom, Kirk’s mental processing skills were a disadvantage. Immediately after his mom’s implication, his mind provided an image of Spock. With breasts.

He missed breasts. Aside from earlier that week with Spock, he hadn’t had any sexual contact in months, and breasts were one of the best parts of sex, at least when the other party was female. He did ­not want Spock to have breasts. He was certain that if he ever saw a pair of lactating breasts with black hair covering them, breasts would be ruined forever, and that was what he saw in his mind.

“Thanks, Mom. You’ve ensured that I will now be impotent for the rest of my life.”

Six months, eight days old

Spock rushed into Syvek’s quarters, attempting to quell the panic rising in his chest. He looked around and was relieved to see Kirk standing with Syvek in his arms and making soothing sounds to calm him.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaimed with a bright smile. “I thought you had an important experiment to observe in your lab tonight.”

“I was observing an experiment, Jim, but I deemed it necessary to return when I sensed an intense discomfort and fear through my bond with our son. May I assume you also felt the boy’s emotions?”

A slightly guilty expression replaced Kirk’s grin, and he sheepishly replied, “Well, sort of. I mean, I noticed he was somewhat scared, but you should’ve seen the look on his face! Priceless.”

Allowing his eyes to narrow, Spock considered the implication of his bondmate’s statement as well as what the return of his mirth could mean, and he found that he did not approve of his unavoidable conclusion. “Please tell me you are not saying that you deliberately frightened our son to gain personal enjoyment from his obvious discomfort.” He was aware that his voice had deepened considerably, but experience had taught him that such tangible signs of disapproval were more likely to have an impact on Kirk than formal vocabulary alone.

Kirk shivered, and Spock remembered his bondmate’s admission a few months ago that Spock’s voice had a tendency to affect his libido. The sudden wave of lust that flowed into Spock’s side of the bond confirmed his suspicion that his disappointment and anger had not had the desired effect on Kirk’s glib amusement.

“You gonna spank me, Spock? Check this out,” Kirk said. He moved to stand beside Spock and held Syvek away from his body with his hands beneath the infant’s arms.

Though his initial expression was a smile directed back at his daddy, Syvek seemed to change his mind when he realized what was about to happen. Kirk tossed Syvek into the air approximately nineteen-point-seven inches and caught him neatly. Floating through the air without Kirk’s hands anchoring him was clearly not an enjoyable experience, if Syvek’s face was an accurate indication. His eyes widened, his forehead wrinkled, and his mouth grimaced as he fell back into his dad’s grasp.

With the infant back in his arms, Kirk looked over to face Spock. “Did you see that? Hilarious!”

Unmoved, Spock held out his hands to Syvek, who immediately reached for the safety of his father’s arms. Kirk relinquished him and appeared contrite now that he was on the receiving end of what Spock assumed were twin Vulcan death glares.

“He needs to learn that I’ll always be here to catch him!” Kirk protested weakly.

“I will request only once that you refrain from attempting to teach him this lesson until his cranium is fully formed,” and if the finality in Spock’s voice didn’t alert Kirk to his seriousness, the sudden absence of Vulcans in the room did.

Eight months, twenty-four days old

Syvek wasn’t crawling yet. Kirk wasn’t that worried. Not really. Sure, he’d called his mother, who informed him that both he and his brother had crawled at seven months. So maybe it was his Vulcan development. After all, they developed slower than humans did, physically at least. A communication with Spock’s parents had revealed that Spock was holding onto furniture and walking at nine months. If Kirk had stormed into McCoy’s office as soon as Amanda and Sarek had signed off, demanding to know what was wrong with his kid, it was only because he was curious. He really wasn’t worried.

“All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

“Yes,” he replied reluctantly. He asked the doctor for ideas on how to encourage crawling, and when he returned to his quarters, he was armed with exercises and techniques to try with Syvek.

Upon entering, he heard music filling the room, some unfamiliar Vulcan instrumental composition. He didn’t see Spock right away but caught sight of him in the sleeping area after a moment. He apparently hadn’t heard Kirk’s entrance, and Kirk was given a rare moment to observe his husband and their baby.

Much to his surprise, Spock started dancing with Syvek in his arms. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard soft humming coming from their general direction. Syvek began giggling as the tempo increased. His chubby hand reached out to one of Spock’s ears while the other was stuffed into his mouth. When the drool-covered palm smacked loudly on Spock’s cheek, Spock actually began to chuckle.

“Would you like to join us, Jim?”

So he had heard Kirk enter. Even better. That meant Spock had allowed him to witness the moment.

He walked to them until he stood just behind Spock and leaned his forehead against a shoulder blade. “Just when I think I can’t possibly love you any deeper…” He trailed off, wonder evident in his voice.

“You are worried.”

He straightened and allowed Spock to turn around to face him. “No. Not really. Maybe. A little.” Collapsing on the bed, he threw an arm over his eyes. “When is Syvek going to start crawling?”

A dip in the mattress told him that Spock had sat beside him. “Why are you so concerned with this? Are you so eager for our child to grow up?”

Spock’s vulnerable tone surprised him, and he looked over to see his husband nuzzling his face against Syvek’s, eyes closed, breathing in deeply.

“No, I just don’t want there to be anything wrong with him. I want to know that he’s healthy. We were both crawling at his age. Standing, even. He just started sitting up on his own two months ago.”

“Neither of us grew up on a starship. The effects of artificial gravity on child development have not been extensively studied, and the development of Syvek’s quarter-Vulcan physiology is a unique experiment in itself,” Spock pointed out.

Kirk blinked a few times. “I’m… going to pretend you didn’t just refer to our son as an experiment,” he eventually said.

“All children are experiments in one way or another. We test ourselves daily as parents, and the results of those tests are what yield the product of Syvek’s adult personality.”

“He’s not a project or a hypothesis for you to test! He’s our baby boy, and he’s not developing at a logically predicted rate!” he cried. “Now put him on the ground so we can teach him to crawl.”

Spock’s brows twitched into a momentary frown. “The ground, Jim?” He pulled Syvek to his chest and protectively cupped his hand behind the small head, drawing it to his shoulder. “That is unsanitary.”

Kirk gaped at his husband. “Unsanitary?” he repeated. “You never put him on the floor?” When Spock cocked his head questioningly, Kirk continued. “What about playing? You must sit with him on the carpet to play, right?”

“I hold him on my lap, but I do not allow him to spend time upon the carpet. The number of pollutants, chemicals, toxins, and bacteria deposited onto the ship’s floorings by our shoes alone could severely affect the boy’s system. How many unknown planets do we visit between the two of us each solar year? The decontamination provided by the transporter’s biofilter is not 100% effective in removing contaminants, and the carpets in the crew’s quarters are cleaned only twice a year.”

Running a hand through his hair, Kirk sighed. “Spock, how can you expect the kid to learn to crawl if he’s never on the ground? He has to build up those muscles! No wonder it took so long for him to be strong enough to sit up alone. Also, if he isn’t ever exposed to germs and toxins, his immune system will not strengthen. What do you want to do? Put the kid in a bubble?”

Perplexed, Spock asked, “What purpose would such an action possibly serve?”

“You’ve never heard of the boy in the bubble? Twentieth century Earth medical case? A baby was born with an immunodeficiency syndrome and had to live in a sterile environment, essentially a plastic bubble, for his entire life.”

Spock drew himself up. “I hardly think a desire to protect the child from alien toxins is comparable to such a situation.”

“Spock, you’ve got to put him down! Give him a chance to grow.” Kirk traced a finger down Spock’s cheek, eliciting a sigh from his lover.

“Very well, Jim. Your argument is logical.” Spock knelt down and placed Syvek on his stomach on the ground. Wide-eyed, the infant turned his head to regard his father. Kirk got the impression that Syvek was unused to being put down when Spock was present. In fact, he was lying still on his stomach, making no attempt to raise himself onto his hands and knees.

“Syvek,” Kirk chuckled, reaching down to position the kid. But Syvek wanted no part of it. He spent about two seconds in a crawling position before he sank down to rest his cheek on the carpet, letting out a few pathetic sobs.

Crawling around to face Syvek, about one meter in front of him, Kirk put his hands out on the carpet.

“Come on, buddy!” he prompted. “Syvek, come to Daddy!”

But Syvek just cried.

“Jim,” Spock began, a hint of pleading in his tone, “he is not ready to crawl. Your actions are upsetting him.” He reached down to pick Syvek up, but Kirk jumped forward, putting his hand on Syvek’s back.

“No! Give him a chance!”

Spock stepped back reluctantly, giving Kirk a doubtful look before returning his attention to their son. Syvek stayed still, face on the ground and butt in the air. Kirk gave him a couple more minutes, but he just wasn’t interested.

“Fine,” Kirk sighed, sitting up. He gathered Syvek in his arms, unable to quell his smile at the boy’s happy reaction. He looked up at Spock and said, “But you do need to put him down once in a while.”

Eight months, twenty-nine days old

A previously unknown type of spore had been discovered on the Enterprise’s latest away mission. The members of the away team had found that, after being exposed to the spore, they were able to communicate telepathically with others who had been exposed. The effect had only lasted one solar day, but the mechanism that caused the heretofore psi-null human crew members to become telepaths was a mystery. Spock was in Science Lab 4 attempting to isolate the active compound in the spore.

A bosun’s whistle cut through the air before Spock heard Kirk’s voice. “Kirk to Spock.”

He crossed the room and pressed the communication button. “Spock here, Captain.”

“Spock! You’ve got to get to our rooms,” Kirk said excitedly. “Quickly!”

Immediately Spock felt for any disturbances in his familial bonds, but none seemed to be present. “Has there been an emergency, Jim?”

“No, but you need to get up here!”

The urgency in Kirk’s voice convinced Spock to acquiesce. “Very well, sir. I shall arrive shortly.” After shutting off the equipment he had been using, Spock left, moving down the corridor in measured strides without allowing his imagination to form any hypotheses regarding Kirk’s insistence.

Upon entering their shared quarters, Spock scanned the room for his family. Kirk was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Syvek was standing on the floor beside it.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaimed, beaming up at him. “Look at Syvek! He’s standing up!”

Spock’s gaze settled on the boy dubiously. “Jim, you do realize that he is holding onto the bed and your leg, correct?”

Giving Spock a withering glare (a withering glare that did not come close to withering Spock), Kirk said, “Of course I realize that. But isn’t this great? Just a few days ago, I was worried that he might be developmentally disabled or something because he wasn’t crawling yet, and now he’s about to start walking! Our kid is a genius!”

Just as he finished his last sentence, Syvek lost his balance and fell on his bottom, blinking in surprise.

“Okay,” Kirk conceded, “maybe he’s not about to start walking, but he’s standing up. He is finally interested in moving around. I’m so proud of him!” His hand reached out to grab Spock’s. He gave him a watery smile and squeezed the appendage while Syvek pulled himself back up. Spock smiled indulgently and began to pull away to return to the lab, amused at his bondmate’s emotional outburst and feeling no small amount of fondness himself.

“Bai gah yub yub,” Syvek chirped happily. Spock couldn’t have stopped the short laugh that sprang from his lips even if Surak himself had been in the room. Abandoning the lab for the night, Spock sank down to his knees and rested his head on Kirk’s other knee.

One year, three months, nine days old

Kirk was dreaming. There was a soft hand on his semi-hard dick and a hard body behind him. He wiggled closer to the warmth at his back but was disappointed that his movement had the effect of decreasing the pressure on his groin. Making a frustrated noise, he inched forward into that inviting fist. But he missed the anchoring sensation of his dream lover behind him, so he pressed back again, whining at the loss of those fingers on his erection.

He heard a deep chuckle. Spock. Of course. Good. “Spo…,” he whispered, pouting. In response, his ethereal bondmate thrust his own hips forward, sandwiching his Vulcan erection between their bodies and tightening his grip on Kirk’s hips. “Spahhh!” A deep moan emanated from Kirk’s throat when Spock’s thumb rubbed over the tip of Kirk’s erection, spreading the pearlescent drop that had gathered there. Spock’s hand left his penis, and Kirk felt that same thumb nudging his lips. He turned his head away in disgust. Just thinking about tasting his own come, or precome, either way, made him shudder. Real Spock knew Kirk wasn’t into that. In fact, trying to get Kirk to taste it was pretty out of character for Dream Spock, who was usually a smoldering sex god, not a playful lover.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. When he saw Real Spock’s real hand hovering in front of his face, he scooted backwards, gratified that the hand withdrew when his bare ass contacted Spock’s pajama-covered erection. “What the hell, Spock?” he grumbled, irritated at the knowledge that his words were undermined by the arousal in his voice. “That’s gross.”

Spock raised his hand until it disappeared behind Kirk’s head. “I do not understand,” he started, and even though Kirk couldn’t see him, he could hear that Spock’s thumb was between his lips, “why you are repulsed by your own bodily fluids but have no qualms tasting mine.”

Kirk’s hand reached up to grasp Spock’s wrist and move it back to his erection. “I know you don’t. Now keep touching me.” He sighed happily when Spock obeyed.

The sensations of Spock’s hand on Kirk’s penis, lips and tongue on his neck, and erection against his ass soon built up and had Kirk thrusting into Spock’s grasp. A growl of dissatisfaction erupted from Spock, as the rhythm Kirk set was unsteady, not complementary to Spock’s strokes. After shimmying out of his pajamas, he threw his right leg over both of Kirk’s to steady him. Holding Kirk’s legs with his own, Spock thrust his desperate erection between his lover’s tightly clasped thighs, reveling in the feel of Kirk’s scrotum rubbing along the top and Kirk’s muscular thighs surrounding the rest. Now that he had control of Kirk’s hips, he timed his thrusts and strokes to give his bondmate the desired amount of sensation.

With Spock’s slippery cock sliding along his balls, flat abs pressing against his ass, and devilish hand on his erection, it wasn’t long until Kirk was babbling incoherently. “Oh, guh,” he groaned, “fuhhhh. Yes, fasterrrrr.”  Sensations swirled around him and across their bond, making him dizzy with need. He could feel Spock’s erection dragging a wet line of precome across his inner thigh. An animalistic grunt accompanied a particularly harsh thrust, and Spock was coming, coming, coming, spraying hot fluid on Kirk’s shaft. Spock squeezed, too hard, or maybe just hard enough, and human come spurted all over the bedclothes in front of Kirk.

They stayed like that, spooning together, with Spock’s softening member retracting from its place between Kirk’s sticky thighs, with Spock’s hot, moist breath soothing the various bite marks on the back of Kirk’s neck, with Kirk’s shuddering breaths jarring both of their bodies, for a couple of minutes before Spock spoke. “Good morning, my love.”

Kirk’s reply was raspy. “Wake me up like that every day, okay?”

Spock hummed in agreement before rolling backwards. “My shift begins in 14.62 minutes. I require a shower.”

Sitting up and watching Spock make his way to the restroom, Kirk eagerly said, “I’ll join you!”

Spock stopped short. “Perhaps you did not hear me properly. I now have 14.39 minutes until I am required on the bridge. I only have time to complete my morning ablutions.”

“You don’t think I can control myself?” Kirk asked haughtily. “I did just have an amazing orgasm.” He climbed out of bed and sauntered toward Spock, whose eyes seemed to be taking in the movement of every muscle under Kirk’s glistening skin.

“I do not recall claiming that I was concerned about your lack of self control.” He turned and entered the bathroom.

“Dada!” said a voice from the baby monitor.

Kirk felt a wave of fatigue flow over him, a feeling that normally happened on mornings when he woke early, lying awake in bed until his alarm clock went off and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Why, God?” he sighed dramatically. Then, seeing his chance, he ran into the bathroom.

Spock was stepping into the shower cubicle and didn’t even look up when Kirk entered.

“Spock! Syvek’s awake. Let me jump in the shower for 2 minutes so I don’t have to take him to breakfast with my balls sticking to my thighs.”

“No.” He closed the shower door and activated the sonic shower.

“Oh, come on! One minute!” There was no answer, though both men could hear Syvek beginning to wail. Kirk opened the door to Syvek’s quarters and stuck his head in. “Be there in a minute, buddy,” he said before backing out of the room and closing the door.

“Jim, you have 9.23 hours until your shift begins. You can shower during Syvek’s nap.”

The baby, who had been stunned into silence when his daddy appeared and then left, started to scream loudly enough that his parents heard him clearly even over the sound of the shower.

Recognizing his plea as a lost cause, Kirk heaved a disgusted sigh. “Fine,” he said, tone clipped, “I’ll leave you alone. But don’t wake me up like that again!”

Though his day had started out in the best way possible, it had gone downhill quickly. While Spock showered, Kirk had gone to their son. Unable to shower without leaving the boy alone, which was obviously not an option, he had been forced to wait until Syvek’s morning nap. So from 07:14 to 10:30, every time he moved, his pubes, glued to his thigh with Spock’s dried come, pulled against their follicles. He’d never been so thankful for the kid’s nap time.

Kirk changed Syvek’s diaper and set him in his crib before practically running out to the shower. He didn’t care if Syvek stayed awake. I probably should’ve just left him in there when he woke up and showered after Spock left, he thought as he stripped off his shirt. Oh well.

He opened his pants to relieve himself before his shower, but just before he started to pee, he was startled by a klaxon. He jumped and looked down to see pee all over the toilet, the floor, and of course, his pants.

“God damn it!” he yelled. He pulled off his pants and used them to sop up the mess before running into his quarters naked. He technically wasn’t working this shift, but when a red alert sounds, the captain goes to the bridge. Knowing he had only seconds to spare before his yeoman arrived to watch Syvek, he decided to skip underwear altogether and grabbed a clean uniform from his wardrobe. He’d just zipped up his left boot when the door chimed.

“Sy’s in his crib, hopefully sleeping,” he said in a rush, flashing a thankful grin at Yeoman Ross on his way out the door.

When he arrived on the bridge, his mood was even fouler than it had been after he peed all over the bathroom. Running down the corridors with dried semen chafing his balls was just icing on the cake of shit that was his day so far. He kept a neutral façade when he stepped onto the bridge and took the conn from Spock, ignoring the slight flaring of the Vulcan’s nostrils and the nearly imperceptible twitch of a brow.

Dealing with the emergency took several hours, and it wasn’t until nearly 1900 hours that the crisis was averted. Kirk, exhausted, decided to skip his shift, and he and Spock returned to their quarters together.

Yeoman Ross was reading a story to Syvek in his room when the two men arrived. After greeting her commanding officers, she let Syvek off her lap, and he toddled over to his dads as quickly as he could.

“Hello, sirs,” she said. “Syvek was great, as usual. He took two good naps, and he has eaten lunch and dinner. I know you had to leave in kind of a hurry, Captain, so I tidied up your quarters a little. And your bathroom.” A nervous blush spread over her face, and she averted her eyes. Kirk winced internally when he realized exactly what the mess in the bathroom had been. “When the red alert ended, I decided to read to Syvek until you arrived.”

Kirk thanked and dismissed the yeoman, crouching down to pick up his son. As soon as she left, he stood, wincing and pulling at his groin, and with a glare, he handed the boy to Spock before entering the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

Part 2

kidfic, kirk/spock, fic author: brown_polyester, rated: nc-17, star trek

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