Nothing Lay Between (7B/?), Kirk/Spock, R
Title: Nothing Lay Between (7B/?)
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: eventual Kirk/Spock, implied Sulu/Chekov
POV: Kirk
Rating: (soft?) R
Words: 6.195
Inspired by: This prompt on st_xi_kink: Spock is a Vulcan concubine/courtesan.
Chapter summary: Kirk spends some quality time with his resident Vulcan--for practical purposes.
All Chapters || Chapter Seven, Part A
The morning came without Kirk's usual instant transition between sleep and awake. It had almost a Saturday-morning-while-in-school feeling, thick as syrup and twice as sweet. It was something usual and welcomed, and it took a while for thoughts to come into focus. The first thought might not have been a surprise to anyone in particular, ...mm, need to take care of that. A hand snaked down and--
Pants? Thoughts were leaking in now. He never wore pants to bed, maybe boxers at absolute worst. Kirk shifted in the warm cocoon of his sheets as the muzzy moment between sleep and awake started to fade away. He took in a slow glance of his room, and finally realized something: he was alone.
It hit fast and hard as he remembered the previous night. Spock had been there. Yes, there was the half-finished game of chess that they had stopped concentrating on, the two chairs pulled close together. Spock had bluntly questioned him, spoke about Bones... oh. The massage. That had to be why his right shoulder or neck wasn't twinging in complaint about having slept, why he was having trouble waking up. It felt good enough that a lazy thought about asking Spock to do that more often started to crop up--
Oh. Then... the end of the massage.
The thought made Kirk pull at the covers and lift the waistband of his pants, checking. Well, he hadn't managed to completely embarrass himself by coming in his pants, but his mind was sure as hell telling him he had orgasmed.
No wonder Bones was in a good mood. He did get laid. Sort of.
The thought made Kirk laugh as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stripping down out of the last of his clothing so that he could take a shower. Thoughts were already cropping up in a more normal order, thoughts such as reminding himself that he had a meeting with Sulu this morning to go over the last information on the away mission, that he had to talk with Scotty about getting a list of equipment that needed to be repaired and the order of importance on those repairs, wanted to make sure that they got the latest information on... mmm. Spock knew more about the fish-people than most people... maybe he should come on the away mission with them. After all, isn't that what Spock was sort of supposed to do?
That particular thought sparked another, making Kirk hesitate as his hand hit off the sonic shower. Spock wanted to be his yeoman. Huh. Kind of a weird thought, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He remembered when Spock had helped him in trying to find someone to become his chief science officer, how very quickly Spock had picked up on exactly what he was looking for. Maybe it really could work out between them for Spock to be his yeoman. The Vulcan was clearly more than smart enough to deal with the massive amount of paperwork, and matched up time-wise with his duties in the science labs, Spock hopefully wouldn't get too bored.
By the time Kirk was dressed, he was feeling good about the day. He would have to talk to Spock later about coming on the away mission, and would have to talk to Sulu about it as well. He left his quarters with a grin, wanting to get breakfast before he went up to the bridge. Hope they have pancakes from the galley in there today. Maybe I could go down to the gym and-- no, I'm still sore from Cupcake yesterday. Huh, that's weird, I didn't even think about how bruised I was when Spock was giving me that massage.. hello there, beautiful. "McKaffern." He's got magic fingers, or that telepathy is just that magical. Huh, never felt a lick of pain..
His thoughts kept him occupied as he made his way into the mess hall, almost missing the fact that Sulu and Chekov were tucked up at a table, sitting side by side and talking to another in gold. There was a brief moment of sadness that said there were no fresh pancakes, but it was matched by something almost as good - waffles. Grateful as hell that he didn't have to deal with the food synthesizers this early in the morning, he loaded up a plate with waffles and drenched them in syrup before turning. Luck was with him (in all her nature as a fickle mistress) as he saw the girl leave Sulu and Chekov's table. Might as well get this meeting out of the way...!
So he walked over to the table and gave a wide grin to the pair, "Seat open?"
Chekov, not to his surprise, was the one that smiled back first. Sulu was less free with his smiles, he knew, but they usually meant more. Chekov was bright as the sunshine, insanely cheerful so early in the morning, usually prodding the helmsman at his side to keep him awake. Kirk also would occasionally see the kid sneaking off briefly to get a cup of coffee for Sulu, keeping them both awake through his own sheer amount of energy. "Of course, Keptin!"
At least he had stopped grinning every time he heard that accent playing with the word 'Captain'. Somehow, it simply never failed to amuse him. Maybe the amusement would wear off after the millionth time hearing it. Kirk plopped down into the seat across from the pair, holding his tray out so it survived his morning lack of grace, then dove into his cup of coffee with a relieved sigh. While he didn't necessarily need it (Bones, on the other hand...), it always felt like a good way to start a day simply because the leisure of it meant nothing terrible was happening.
"How'd you sleep?" Kirk asked the pair of them, looking better the two sets of eyes focused on him as he cut into his waffles with the edge of his fork. ...Wait a second. He watched Chekov glance slightly to the side, and was... that a blush?
But Sulu met his eyes calmly. "Well enough." There was something going on here, something Kirk had an inkling about but wouldn't say aloud until he was more certain of it.
Kirk thought for another moment, then shrugged, "You know, we're supposed to have a meeting in half an hour anyway... we could just get it over with now." It made sense, and a meeting over waffles and coffee sounded a hell of a lot easier than one in his office. The idea definitely seemed to please Sulu because he saw that faint smile on the other's lips, but his eyes flickered over to Chekov. Kirk caught the motion and waved it off. "We're not talking Federation secrets, he can stay if he wants to." He was pleased when he saw them both relax slightly.
"Keptin, I heard that ze species we are meeting are aquatic?" Chekov asked, and Kirk couldn't help the grin that came with the curiosity written on the younger man's face.
"Mmm, records from the first crew that met them said they can breathe above and below water. Lungs and gills, like a mudfish." Kirk shoved a mouthful of waffle in, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. "They have some sort of system going on underwater that we're going to have to check out for living, but the reports were a bit short changed in that area since the crew didn't have the proper equipment to really deal with it. We do, though. Those new gizmos the Fleet's given us to test out that let us breathe underwater, body suits, and all that other stuff." He grinned a little. "Gonna be a wet one."
"Better make sure ship's laundry is ready for massive amounts of wet towels." Sulu muttered, a quick blade of a smirk on his lips, hands curling around a steaming mug. "So other than giving them the supplies we were supposed to bring, what does Starfleet want?"
Kirk gestured with his fork as he spoke, "The usual." Well, not usual for them. This was a test of the new crew on their first mission as representatives. "Make sure that we're good little delegates and learn more about their culture. They're supposed to be a pretty relaxed species, probably why we got sent as newbies." Honestly, while it might have been insulting, Kirk was glad this was a species that was, according to knowledge, supposed to be easy going, without ridiculous social norms, and evidently liked to have grand parties. It would be a good start, giving practical experience to his crew. They had already survived their trial by fire with Nero, so he knew this crew was ready for anything, but going into battle and playing the diplomat were two different things.
"Who do we want going down to the planet surface to meet them?" Sulu asked, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Well, we're going to need the universal translators no matter what, but I bet Uhura would be a good addition." Not only would she probably pick up their humming-language quickly, from what he had heard around campus and briefly in one of the rec rooms on the way back to Earth from the fight with Nero, she had a beautiful voice. Talented tongue indeed.
Sulu nodded his agreement to that. "Scotty's going down too, right?"
"He'll be in charge of showing them how to install this stuff and use it, so if we send Uhura along maybe she can keep him from getting too frustrated." Kirk couldn't help the grin that came to his lips. The man was a genius, born and bred with a spanner in his hand, but well... like the rest of them, he needed a bit of polishing at the edges.
"Scotty, Uhura..." Sulu murmured. "Yourself--"
"Spock." Kirk tossed out into Sulu's audible muttering.
Which, of course, surprised his first officer. "Spock?" Sulu shifted in his seat, the mug coming down to the table with a quiet clink. "Why him?"
"He's met them." Kirk said, half rationalizing it for himself as much as Sulu, "In a diplomatic sense. Knows about their culture, and I just think probably really useful." Wonder if he can speak their language, too. Probably. "No use in wasting a resource we've got on ship that could keep us from making asses of ourselves."
His first officer looked down, a finger briefly rubbing the rim of his mug, smearing the droplets of condensation gathered there. Kirk recognized it as Sulu's 'thinking pose'. Sulu would focus on something and blank out for several moments, then-- right on cue. "Do you trust him for this?"
For that he had an immediate answer, "Yeah. Don't think he would have," He almost said been given to us by the Vulcans, but that made Spock sound like property. He hated that. Dammit, been as valuable had that same problem. "Been as highly valued," That still had problems, but better, "As a ta.. tale... tallcuppacoffee," Okay, so he couldn't remember the word Spock had said only a few times. Close enough.
Sulu just gave him a look and Kirk knew he hadn't fooled his helmsman, but Chekov didn't seem to have noticed. "If you think so, Captain." Sulu said with what sounded a lot like sarcasm mixed with amusement.
The rest of the breakfast dissolved into discussion about the mission proper. Did they finish all of the transparent aluminum in time? So it would be Kirk, Uhura, Spock, Scotty, anyone else? Should they just go down in wet suits, or wait until they were invited under water? Everyone on the away team needed to be able to swim, for goodness sakes. Wait, could Spock swim? Kirk waved that off but mentally noted to ask. Time passed without them even noticing Chekov having to leave, pouring over data padds with the remains of their breakfast pushed off to the side. Someone, Kirk briefly caught glimpse of blond hair, was kind enough to slip over two mugs of coffee to them at some point though.
By the time it was over, Kirk had a damn good feeling about this mission. Keep the group small but sturdy, get what they need to done, and make sure the Varltidians were happy that they joined the Federation. They walked up to the bridge together, and Kirk sent a quick note to Spock asking that they meet sometime later so he could discuss the away mission. Considering what Spock had commented on in the past for what he had done in the service of Vulcan, he really didn't think there was much they had to talk about.
With a good start to the day, and knowledge quickly after reaching the bridge that they would reach Varltidal on schedule about oh-six-hundred the next morning, the day went swiftly. The amount of paperwork that was growing with each day made Spock's suggestion seem better and better, but he plowed through it. Scotty gave him an agreement on going down to teach the Varltidians as well as the thumbs up from engineering and Russel gave the same frown down in the science labs, encouraging Kirk to stop by. The ship's quartermaster got their supplies together so they could head down to the planet's surface. The idea of being in a wetsuit for the length of being down there did not sound exactly pleasant, but considering the alternatives, it was a discomfort he could deal with.
Later in the day Kirk got a chance to head down to the science labs and get his first glimpse of the underwater breathing apparatus that they were supposed to be testing out. Russel explained how it worked - filtering water out in a fashion similar to fish gills and pulling oxygen into the mask over the mouth and nose. Kirk tried it on and was very surprised to find it was remarkably light even out of water. Russel made the comment that in water it would most likely have almost no weight at all. It was sleek, designed to keep from creating drag in the water. Curious about what else they would be wearing down there, Kirk couldn't help the feeling of pride that came from being captain of this particular ship. In just the few days since they had gotten the mission, the labs had created what could be surmounted to gloves and shoes that would help them swim more easily under water without being bulky or even having to be removed when out of the water. Kirk slipped on the gloves which made him think of the old horror vids of the monster from the swamp, giving him webbing between his fingers but full flexibility. The shoes were very similar, strange feeling because the webbing hugged each of his toes, but had a sturdy sole that would protect them while walking on land.
"You guys down here are absolutely amazing," Kirk commented, wriggling his toes as he studied the clear material covering his foot.
The compliment brought a grin to Russel's face. "Just doing our jobs, Captain."
When Kirk got back from the science labs, he was pleased to see a response from Spock. He had purposefully set dinner later in the night, about 20:00, simply so that he could get in a good workout. It had, in the past, always kept the restlessness from a certain excitement of the unknown from driving him insane. So he ventured down to the gym after the alpha shift was over, a stop in his room, and a brief discussion with one of the Ensigns from engineering asking on Scotty's behalf about coordinates for the next day. Despite the very captainy question, he stood comfortable in shorts and a tee shirt. After all, there was a certain sense of ego that came from the looks he got as he walked with a towel over his shoulders towards the lower decks.
Even better than a workout, he spotted Sulu off in one of the training rooms. Must have come down straight from the bridge, since it seemed the helmsman had been there for at least a short while. "Oi, Sulu!" He called out, grinning lazily as he caught the slight look and nod that gave acknowledgment to his call but did not stop the man from running through the last of the pattern he was already in. It was a dizzying flare of silver and light as the blade cut through the air with a faint whine, stabbing out and blocking an invisible opponent.
Kirk had definitely gained a certain respect for fencing after it had saved his ass.
Only when Sulu acknowledged him again, turning to face him fully and gesturing a little with his head, did Kirk come over. "Damn. It's like watching one of those old kung-fu vids or something out of the Three Musketeers." The latter he had a rather old physical copy of sitting on the shelf in his bedroom, one of the few items he had gathered during his years in the academy and decided to keep.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Captain." Sulu remarked in return, a smirk curling the edges of his mouth in a wry sort of humor.
"It is, it is. You up for any more?" Kirk asked out of curiosity, hiding the grin that threatened to arise at the remark his mind said a moment later, That sounded dirty.
Sulu shook his head to the question, walking a few feet to grab a towel, "Just wanted to run through a few things before the mission tomorrow, keep myself loose. It's been a while since I've gone swimming."
That made Kirk laugh, just because of how true it was. "I think I haven't gone since last summer. Should be a workout for everyone. Man, wait until you see what Science has cooked up for us for this mission."
"That bad?"
"The wetsuits are." That made them both laugh. "Everything else is pretty damn cool."
"Mister Sulu?" When they both looked towards where the new voice had interrupted their little conversation, Spock stood in the archway of the training room, wearing the form-fitting black undershirt and loose regulation exercise pants, also black. His demeanor wasn't any different with this change of clothes, but at the moment it tended toward curiosity. Or, at least, that's what the little head tilt communicated. "Are you finished for the evening?"
"Just finished." Sulu said to Spock, then looked to Kirk. "Sorry, Captain. Want to get in a good night's sleep before tomorrow."
Kirk understood, and waved a hand of dismissal. "See you bright and early." He offered a grin to make up for any possible hint of disappointment. Sulu returned it with a small, quick smile of his own. Spock stepped aside smoothly to allow Sulu to pass by in the archway with a nod, and watched him go before those dark eyes slid over to focus on Kirk.
"Should you also retire, Captain?"
Kirk waved his hand to that, "Just got here. Wanted to get a workout, get myself ready for having to swim tomorrow..." He hesitated, then just had to ask, "I'm gonna assume you know how to swim?" Lie. He somehow didn't think someone from a desert planet would know at all how to swim.
"I do." Spock half-turned where he stood, glancing out into the open hall (and the pool, around the corner), and then back to Kirk. "I am skilled in the four most common strokes, and I have some limited experience in diving."
"Good." Kirk gave a lazy grin in Spock's direction, then turned to head out towards the machines set off in their own area of the gym. "You're free to the room." Figuring that was what Spock wanted.
Kirk's words were barely finished before Spock took a small step forward, partially blocking the archway. He turned towards Kirk. "That will not be necessary, as Mister Sulu is not present. Though, if you do not have a set regiment...I have several techniques to bring to your knowledge in regards to this upcoming away mission."
Brows shot up, and Kirk faced Spock fully, "Oh? Like what?" There was a heavy curiosity to those words because he was immediately interested. Techniques? What could Spock mean by that, exactly?
"Varltidans are only somewhat human, and the methods you would use to disable them do not overlap with standard protocol. While this is a diplomatic mission, the possibility of melee combat should not be overlooked."
Oh! Kirk grinned with that, nodding. "By all means, show me." There was a definite interest now - this was something he loved to do but rarely got the chance... now that he wasn't on Earth anymore.
A certain small tension seemed to relax out of Spock's shoulders, but he made no other sign of relief. "Do you prefer to reference weak points on your own body, or mine?"
"Both? You can show me on my body than we'll figure out the reverse." Kirk offered. Spock nodded again, once, and stepped closer.
"The simplest point of retaliation will be the gills, which rest at the sides of the neck." Spock raised his hands and lightly pressed his hot fingers to either side of Kirk's neck, behind the ears. "If you cover them, it will hinder their breathing long enough to gain their attention. If you manage to lodge an implement or your fingernails into the membrane, however, you will cause pain and possibly serious injury." Spock's tone either hinted that he was confident in his source or knew it first hand.
"Gills." Kirk met Spock's eyes from that close distance, and nodded. Easy enough to remember, made sense. He reached up and pressed his fingers to Spock's neck in the similar location.
From this position, fingers against the strong muscles of the Vulcan's neck, he felt Spock tense up, the hint of a shiver. It was quickly followed by a flash of words, your hands are cold, Jim, forgive me, before Spock carried right along as if nothing had happened. "They also lack a formal ribcage, which provides the opportunity for sharp strikes to the heart." One warm hand dropped from Kirk's neck, and the other came down to touch his chest. Spock's hand was in a chop position, with the tips of his fingers pressed below Kirk's heart. "A single jab should seize it, or at least pain them if you do not breach the elastic qualities of the cartilage."
"Cartilage?" Kirk questioned, blinking, his hands not dropping immediately, "So they're like sharks? No bone, just cartilage? Or do they have bones too?" That was a very weird thought, but it made sense considering they were supposed to be a good of fish people.
"They have a rudimentary skeletal system to support them while they are above-water, mainly in the major limbs and the spinal cord." Spock glanced up from where he had been focusing on his own hand against Kirk's chest. "Therefore you should be wary of their flexibility."
There was a dirty joke in the making, right there, but Kirk kept it to himself. Or at least would have, if Spock didn't just happen to be a touch-telepath. Flexibility huh? Too bad they're fish people. "I'll keep that in mind. Really hoping I'll never have to use the information."
Spock gave him that curious look again, the narrowing of his gaze communicating a mild sense of confusion. How would their species prevent what you are insinuating?
It actually took him a few seconds to realize what had happened. There was a mental and physical sputtering, and Kirk jerked back from those heated hands. "Sorry! I... shit, I'm not used to someone being able to hear in my head. Just... ignore that." He had no answer for the weird question, anyway, or at least one that he could tell Spock. There was just something very odd about the idea of fucking a fish. Probably because it seemed like it would be wet, cold, and scaly. Not exactly in his list of turn-ons.
Spock just looked at him before nodding, and then moved behind Kirk, relatively casual in continuing his explanation. For a moment something dug into the middle of his back, over the top of his spine. "There will be a sharp dorsal fin here. Avoid it." The pressure moved down, to a rather benign spot on his lower back, between the small of it and the hip. "This is a particularly important spot, where the nerves of the tail and the legs separate. You can do nothing with their legs--their lower body strength is considerable--but this particular spot will cause a disabling spasm."
"Do they have knees?" Kirk asked, shifting his stance a little. That was always a favorite of his, going for his opponent's knees. They were usually wide open.
"In a general sense," Spock said after a moment of pause. "They are capable of bipedal locomotion in a manner related to our own, yet I do not believe that any blows there will prove effective. Their center of gravity is too low and the knee itself is rather indistinct."
"Mm, mmm." That made sense. Kirk nodded, shifting so he could look at Spock. "Are they stronger than humans? Faster? Definitely faster in water..."
"The tail hinders their movement on land, and so they will be slower than you above water." Spock withdrew his hand from where it pressed, back to his own sides. "They lack strength in their upper limbs due to a lack of necessity; muscle is concentrated along the lower abdomen down to the tail." He brought the flat of his palm to press up against Kirk's stomach. "It allows for greater thrusting force while swimming."
Kirk licked his lips, looking down at Spock's hand. He could feel the Vulcan's warmth through the thin cloth of his tee shirt, making muscle flex slightly. "So avoid stomach shots, then. All that muscle to protect it. Just go for the chest, lower back towards the hips, gills." He could remember that, and he would make mention of it to Sulu too.
The hand dropped from Kirk's stomach as Spock stepped back now and folded his hands over his own stomach in habit. "There are also several chemicals which are caustic to their skin and benign to us, though I doubt they will allow you to carry them."
"Not my style of fighting, anyway." Kirk said lazily. "Besides, all reports point to them being a rather friendly group. Not that I want to take any chances, or anything like that, but I don't want to be obvious about what I've got." He tapped his skull, indicating the knowledge Spock had just given them. "That might turn the tables if necessary."
"Understood." Spock nodded once, though some confusion echoed in his expression--his eyes, more like. The slight narrowing of his gaze that appeared and then flickered away again.
"...You're giving me that look that tells me you said 'understood' but you really don't." Kirk grinned a little, "Just ask a question if you don't get it."
Obviously getting caught in the act was not what Spock had anticipated; he looked away from Kirk. His hands broke their fold in order to move behind his back. "...you say that it is not your style of fighting. Yet what difference does it make if your opponent is defeated and your safety guaranteed?"
Kirk shrugged slightly. "Depends on what the circumstances are. We're coming to them, on their territory... depends on why we ended up fighting. I just don't work with dirty underhanded tricks if I don't have to. I'd rather win by actually winning."
Spock's gaze wavered, looking at him then looking elsewhere in the room as if concentrating on a particular problem. "Do you always adhere to these principles?"
"I try to." Kirk's fingers clenched a little, and his grin was colder. "I've had to break that rule a few times in my life, but I try to."
"...it is rather obvious that you are more than capable of maintaining your own survival." The phrase, oddly, sounded more like Spock was directing it to himself than to Kirk. A reassurance?
Wonder what that meant? Kirk wondered to himself for a second, then shook it off. He gestured to the open area in front of them, "Do you spar?" He wasn't sure if the term would come across, and clarified slightly, "I mean, I came looking for a workout and so did you, and I'd like to see how they train you to fight..."
When Spock glanced back up at him, he didn't quite perk up--but, in a Vulcan-y way, he did. Just the little raise of his chin and the brighter glint in his eye. "If you would like to spar, we may."
Kirk's eyes lit up as well and he walked to the center of the mat. "Just give me a second to stretch out." He waved before he settled himself down to do exactly that. 'Always stretch out your muscles if you have the time. If you see a fight coming, do small stretches while you talk down your opponent if necessary. Or, in your case Jim Kirk, perhaps the alcohol will have made you so loose it will not be necessary.' The old man had laughed, and Kirk had scowled at him. In exchange for a tiny room, some food, and lessons, Kirk had in turn taught self-defense and did the chores for the tiny dojo somewhere in the middle of nowhere New York City. The rest of his money had been earned in other people's rooms.
As he stretched, Spock stayed along the edges of the mat, though his eyes were not always on Kirk. His gaze flickered from one corner of it to the other, as if calculating dimensions. That done, Spock closed his eyes, and stood still. Figures a Vulcan would meditate instead of stretch out. They're supposed to be able to control their bodies in every way, right? He could remember something like that from his classes. Kirk stood up when he was finished, lacing his fingers together, turning the palms out to face Spock, and stretching out his arms. "You ready, Spock?"
When Spock opened his eyes, the initial enthusiasm was different somehow, changed into something with more energy and a harsher edge. "Yes." He stepped forward to the center of the mat. Kirk's eyes narrowed in response, and he watched Spock carefully. He had no idea what sort of fighting style Spock might have, but knew the obvious things about Vulcans like they were way stronger than a human. He figured (hoped) that Spock would restrain at least some of that, but he wouldn't take it for granted.
Kirk shifted his feet apart, knees bent, and he brought his arms up. One loose fist held in front of his cheek, the other at the opposite angle across his lower chest. Prepared to defend strikes for the head or chest-to-abdomen in a breath. Spock's right foot shifted back, his left foot moved forward and bent at the knee, and his hands paralleled the same positions while keeping close to his torso. He bent lower to the ground. It was not necessarily a stance for show to start with, but something to receive any hit that came. A breath, stillness, and in one lightning-fast, fluid motion, the kick came around for Kirk's knee.
He's fast! Kirk barely managed to move his knee out from the kick, and his body responded automatically. It quickly dissolved into a fight merely to actually hit the other, strikes that were delivered and blocked, kicks that were dodged or refocused, quiet except for the harshness of their breath. Kirk's world went fuzzy at the edges with Spock neatly focused in the center, determined to win. Whatever winning currently meant. Points? The first full strike? Kirk had a feeling that they wouldn't stop until one or the other of them was unable to attack by take-down.
So that became his goal. He knew his style was sporadic, but Spock's was anything but. It was all clear gliding motions that flowed consistently into the next movement, amazingly graceful backed by a Vulcan's impressive strength. It sometimes gave Kirk a hint of an edge because sometimes the movements repeated themselves - that strike would be followed with an upward movement, that block came in low - but it wasn't enough of an edge to bring Spock down more than once. Yet Spock didn't seem to be having any easier time with him, so Kirk quickly thanked every bar-fight he had ever been in.
They also frequently found themselves on the mat. Spock's fighting style tended to go lower and focused on bringing Kirk to the ground with strange scissoring twists and ankle sweeps that looked smooth until they deviated and came into the knee instead. But they were both quick, recovering and getting to their feet again to start the cycle again. Until one move where he managed to knock Kirk onto his back and then lunged. The heat of the Vulcan's body felt almost oppressive against his own, with one leg awkwardly pinning his arm by his side, with the other pinned by a grip to his wrist by his shoulder--and strong fingers closed around his throat.
The grip was tight, enough to make Kirk immediately feel the rapid beat of his pulse. Ba-dun, ba-dun, ba-dun. He looked up to Spock's face, those dark eyes looking down at him with determination, seriousness. ...should work.
Kirk's body went limp under Spock's fingers, eyes closing as he let out a breath, like he had passed out.
A flare of panic rushed into Kirk's thoughts from some outside source, burning straight from the bare contact at his throat. The grip barely held to the end of his breath, loosening and withdrawing along with the grip at his wrist and the pressure against his arm. It was the panic that made him panic almost on instinct, eyes opening and Kirk sucking in a hard breath as he scrambled to get up. Wasn't easy dealing with someone else ever being in your head, specially when them being there was like a fireball suddenly exploding.
Spock was still sitting there, looming over him while kneeling, his hands pressed neat to his thighs. "Captain--?"
"M'fine." Kirk rasped out, a hand coming up to rub at his throat. "M'fine." Damn, his throat hurt a little though.
"Are you certain?" Spock didn't sound entirely convinced. "I apologize for the maneuver. You had blocked all of my other attempts and willfully losing would be a dishonour to your ability--"
"I did it on purpose." Kirk said, interrupting Spock. He gave a lazy grin, still rubbing his throat. "I didn't actually pass out."
And a split second later, Spock was on the floor, Kirk's knuckles to his throat in what would have been a crushing blow if he hadn't stopped. Spock's breath was quick and his eyes were wide; Kirk could feel a swallow against his knuckles. Spock's body gradually relaxed, including that grip into his upper arm that would have been his defense. If his voice box wasn't knocked out. "...I see."
Kirk didn't move, his eyes still narrowed. "Give?" He asked quietly. Vulcans had a sense of honor, unlike bastards in a bar fight where not only wouldn't he have stopped, he would have made sure to get a few kicks in afterward.
Dark eyes flickered up and focused on his face. "Yes." Said at the same soft volume, almost private.
Kirk moved all at once and stood up, offering a hand down to Spock. He grinned, that same lazy grin, "Good match. Nice to meet someone worthwhile to spar with."
Spock took his hand and stood with his usual easy grace. Hesitation through one and a half breaths, "...could you elaborate on your last move, Jim?"
"Chokehold." Kirk touched his throat with a light pat of a few fingers. "When you can feel the blood in your veins. You've only got about three seconds before you're going to pass out if they've got your blood stopped, a few more if its your air. So, instead of waiting for it to come, you just 'pass out'. They'll release the hold, never had that fail, and you can get in a strike." Simple, easy, and effective. That's what Kirk liked about it. "Better than struggling."
"Indeed." Spock agreed. The hard edge that had appeared with the beginning of the spar had faded, or perhaps he was just taking getting pinned into the mat like a good sport. "Thank you for demonstrating it."
Kirk rubbed his throat again and laughed, looking to Spock with the rush of their spar still running in his veins. "You wanna go get something to eat still?" He stretched out. "Nothing makes me hungrier than working out."
Curling his wrist in the opposite hand until it cracked (not quite stretching, but the essence was there), Spock answered him. "Dinner would be appreciated."
Unfinished; see the master post.
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: eventual Kirk/Spock, implied Sulu/Chekov
POV: Kirk
Rating: (soft?) R
Words: 6.195
Inspired by: This prompt on st_xi_kink: Spock is a Vulcan concubine/courtesan.
Chapter summary: Kirk spends some quality time with his resident Vulcan--for practical purposes.
All Chapters || Chapter Seven, Part A
The morning came without Kirk's usual instant transition between sleep and awake. It had almost a Saturday-morning-while-in-school feeling, thick as syrup and twice as sweet. It was something usual and welcomed, and it took a while for thoughts to come into focus. The first thought might not have been a surprise to anyone in particular, ...mm, need to take care of that. A hand snaked down and--
Pants? Thoughts were leaking in now. He never wore pants to bed, maybe boxers at absolute worst. Kirk shifted in the warm cocoon of his sheets as the muzzy moment between sleep and awake started to fade away. He took in a slow glance of his room, and finally realized something: he was alone.
It hit fast and hard as he remembered the previous night. Spock had been there. Yes, there was the half-finished game of chess that they had stopped concentrating on, the two chairs pulled close together. Spock had bluntly questioned him, spoke about Bones... oh. The massage. That had to be why his right shoulder or neck wasn't twinging in complaint about having slept, why he was having trouble waking up. It felt good enough that a lazy thought about asking Spock to do that more often started to crop up--
Oh. Then... the end of the massage.
The thought made Kirk pull at the covers and lift the waistband of his pants, checking. Well, he hadn't managed to completely embarrass himself by coming in his pants, but his mind was sure as hell telling him he had orgasmed.
No wonder Bones was in a good mood. He did get laid. Sort of.
The thought made Kirk laugh as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stripping down out of the last of his clothing so that he could take a shower. Thoughts were already cropping up in a more normal order, thoughts such as reminding himself that he had a meeting with Sulu this morning to go over the last information on the away mission, that he had to talk with Scotty about getting a list of equipment that needed to be repaired and the order of importance on those repairs, wanted to make sure that they got the latest information on... mmm. Spock knew more about the fish-people than most people... maybe he should come on the away mission with them. After all, isn't that what Spock was sort of supposed to do?
That particular thought sparked another, making Kirk hesitate as his hand hit off the sonic shower. Spock wanted to be his yeoman. Huh. Kind of a weird thought, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He remembered when Spock had helped him in trying to find someone to become his chief science officer, how very quickly Spock had picked up on exactly what he was looking for. Maybe it really could work out between them for Spock to be his yeoman. The Vulcan was clearly more than smart enough to deal with the massive amount of paperwork, and matched up time-wise with his duties in the science labs, Spock hopefully wouldn't get too bored.
By the time Kirk was dressed, he was feeling good about the day. He would have to talk to Spock later about coming on the away mission, and would have to talk to Sulu about it as well. He left his quarters with a grin, wanting to get breakfast before he went up to the bridge. Hope they have pancakes from the galley in there today. Maybe I could go down to the gym and-- no, I'm still sore from Cupcake yesterday. Huh, that's weird, I didn't even think about how bruised I was when Spock was giving me that massage.. hello there, beautiful. "McKaffern." He's got magic fingers, or that telepathy is just that magical. Huh, never felt a lick of pain..
His thoughts kept him occupied as he made his way into the mess hall, almost missing the fact that Sulu and Chekov were tucked up at a table, sitting side by side and talking to another in gold. There was a brief moment of sadness that said there were no fresh pancakes, but it was matched by something almost as good - waffles. Grateful as hell that he didn't have to deal with the food synthesizers this early in the morning, he loaded up a plate with waffles and drenched them in syrup before turning. Luck was with him (in all her nature as a fickle mistress) as he saw the girl leave Sulu and Chekov's table. Might as well get this meeting out of the way...!
So he walked over to the table and gave a wide grin to the pair, "Seat open?"
Chekov, not to his surprise, was the one that smiled back first. Sulu was less free with his smiles, he knew, but they usually meant more. Chekov was bright as the sunshine, insanely cheerful so early in the morning, usually prodding the helmsman at his side to keep him awake. Kirk also would occasionally see the kid sneaking off briefly to get a cup of coffee for Sulu, keeping them both awake through his own sheer amount of energy. "Of course, Keptin!"
At least he had stopped grinning every time he heard that accent playing with the word 'Captain'. Somehow, it simply never failed to amuse him. Maybe the amusement would wear off after the millionth time hearing it. Kirk plopped down into the seat across from the pair, holding his tray out so it survived his morning lack of grace, then dove into his cup of coffee with a relieved sigh. While he didn't necessarily need it (Bones, on the other hand...), it always felt like a good way to start a day simply because the leisure of it meant nothing terrible was happening.
"How'd you sleep?" Kirk asked the pair of them, looking better the two sets of eyes focused on him as he cut into his waffles with the edge of his fork. ...Wait a second. He watched Chekov glance slightly to the side, and was... that a blush?
But Sulu met his eyes calmly. "Well enough." There was something going on here, something Kirk had an inkling about but wouldn't say aloud until he was more certain of it.
Kirk thought for another moment, then shrugged, "You know, we're supposed to have a meeting in half an hour anyway... we could just get it over with now." It made sense, and a meeting over waffles and coffee sounded a hell of a lot easier than one in his office. The idea definitely seemed to please Sulu because he saw that faint smile on the other's lips, but his eyes flickered over to Chekov. Kirk caught the motion and waved it off. "We're not talking Federation secrets, he can stay if he wants to." He was pleased when he saw them both relax slightly.
"Keptin, I heard that ze species we are meeting are aquatic?" Chekov asked, and Kirk couldn't help the grin that came with the curiosity written on the younger man's face.
"Mmm, records from the first crew that met them said they can breathe above and below water. Lungs and gills, like a mudfish." Kirk shoved a mouthful of waffle in, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. "They have some sort of system going on underwater that we're going to have to check out for living, but the reports were a bit short changed in that area since the crew didn't have the proper equipment to really deal with it. We do, though. Those new gizmos the Fleet's given us to test out that let us breathe underwater, body suits, and all that other stuff." He grinned a little. "Gonna be a wet one."
"Better make sure ship's laundry is ready for massive amounts of wet towels." Sulu muttered, a quick blade of a smirk on his lips, hands curling around a steaming mug. "So other than giving them the supplies we were supposed to bring, what does Starfleet want?"
Kirk gestured with his fork as he spoke, "The usual." Well, not usual for them. This was a test of the new crew on their first mission as representatives. "Make sure that we're good little delegates and learn more about their culture. They're supposed to be a pretty relaxed species, probably why we got sent as newbies." Honestly, while it might have been insulting, Kirk was glad this was a species that was, according to knowledge, supposed to be easy going, without ridiculous social norms, and evidently liked to have grand parties. It would be a good start, giving practical experience to his crew. They had already survived their trial by fire with Nero, so he knew this crew was ready for anything, but going into battle and playing the diplomat were two different things.
"Who do we want going down to the planet surface to meet them?" Sulu asked, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Well, we're going to need the universal translators no matter what, but I bet Uhura would be a good addition." Not only would she probably pick up their humming-language quickly, from what he had heard around campus and briefly in one of the rec rooms on the way back to Earth from the fight with Nero, she had a beautiful voice. Talented tongue indeed.
Sulu nodded his agreement to that. "Scotty's going down too, right?"
"He'll be in charge of showing them how to install this stuff and use it, so if we send Uhura along maybe she can keep him from getting too frustrated." Kirk couldn't help the grin that came to his lips. The man was a genius, born and bred with a spanner in his hand, but well... like the rest of them, he needed a bit of polishing at the edges.
"Scotty, Uhura..." Sulu murmured. "Yourself--"
"Spock." Kirk tossed out into Sulu's audible muttering.
Which, of course, surprised his first officer. "Spock?" Sulu shifted in his seat, the mug coming down to the table with a quiet clink. "Why him?"
"He's met them." Kirk said, half rationalizing it for himself as much as Sulu, "In a diplomatic sense. Knows about their culture, and I just think probably really useful." Wonder if he can speak their language, too. Probably. "No use in wasting a resource we've got on ship that could keep us from making asses of ourselves."
His first officer looked down, a finger briefly rubbing the rim of his mug, smearing the droplets of condensation gathered there. Kirk recognized it as Sulu's 'thinking pose'. Sulu would focus on something and blank out for several moments, then-- right on cue. "Do you trust him for this?"
For that he had an immediate answer, "Yeah. Don't think he would have," He almost said been given to us by the Vulcans, but that made Spock sound like property. He hated that. Dammit, been as valuable had that same problem. "Been as highly valued," That still had problems, but better, "As a ta.. tale... tallcuppacoffee," Okay, so he couldn't remember the word Spock had said only a few times. Close enough.
Sulu just gave him a look and Kirk knew he hadn't fooled his helmsman, but Chekov didn't seem to have noticed. "If you think so, Captain." Sulu said with what sounded a lot like sarcasm mixed with amusement.
The rest of the breakfast dissolved into discussion about the mission proper. Did they finish all of the transparent aluminum in time? So it would be Kirk, Uhura, Spock, Scotty, anyone else? Should they just go down in wet suits, or wait until they were invited under water? Everyone on the away team needed to be able to swim, for goodness sakes. Wait, could Spock swim? Kirk waved that off but mentally noted to ask. Time passed without them even noticing Chekov having to leave, pouring over data padds with the remains of their breakfast pushed off to the side. Someone, Kirk briefly caught glimpse of blond hair, was kind enough to slip over two mugs of coffee to them at some point though.
By the time it was over, Kirk had a damn good feeling about this mission. Keep the group small but sturdy, get what they need to done, and make sure the Varltidians were happy that they joined the Federation. They walked up to the bridge together, and Kirk sent a quick note to Spock asking that they meet sometime later so he could discuss the away mission. Considering what Spock had commented on in the past for what he had done in the service of Vulcan, he really didn't think there was much they had to talk about.
With a good start to the day, and knowledge quickly after reaching the bridge that they would reach Varltidal on schedule about oh-six-hundred the next morning, the day went swiftly. The amount of paperwork that was growing with each day made Spock's suggestion seem better and better, but he plowed through it. Scotty gave him an agreement on going down to teach the Varltidians as well as the thumbs up from engineering and Russel gave the same frown down in the science labs, encouraging Kirk to stop by. The ship's quartermaster got their supplies together so they could head down to the planet's surface. The idea of being in a wetsuit for the length of being down there did not sound exactly pleasant, but considering the alternatives, it was a discomfort he could deal with.
Later in the day Kirk got a chance to head down to the science labs and get his first glimpse of the underwater breathing apparatus that they were supposed to be testing out. Russel explained how it worked - filtering water out in a fashion similar to fish gills and pulling oxygen into the mask over the mouth and nose. Kirk tried it on and was very surprised to find it was remarkably light even out of water. Russel made the comment that in water it would most likely have almost no weight at all. It was sleek, designed to keep from creating drag in the water. Curious about what else they would be wearing down there, Kirk couldn't help the feeling of pride that came from being captain of this particular ship. In just the few days since they had gotten the mission, the labs had created what could be surmounted to gloves and shoes that would help them swim more easily under water without being bulky or even having to be removed when out of the water. Kirk slipped on the gloves which made him think of the old horror vids of the monster from the swamp, giving him webbing between his fingers but full flexibility. The shoes were very similar, strange feeling because the webbing hugged each of his toes, but had a sturdy sole that would protect them while walking on land.
"You guys down here are absolutely amazing," Kirk commented, wriggling his toes as he studied the clear material covering his foot.
The compliment brought a grin to Russel's face. "Just doing our jobs, Captain."
When Kirk got back from the science labs, he was pleased to see a response from Spock. He had purposefully set dinner later in the night, about 20:00, simply so that he could get in a good workout. It had, in the past, always kept the restlessness from a certain excitement of the unknown from driving him insane. So he ventured down to the gym after the alpha shift was over, a stop in his room, and a brief discussion with one of the Ensigns from engineering asking on Scotty's behalf about coordinates for the next day. Despite the very captainy question, he stood comfortable in shorts and a tee shirt. After all, there was a certain sense of ego that came from the looks he got as he walked with a towel over his shoulders towards the lower decks.
Even better than a workout, he spotted Sulu off in one of the training rooms. Must have come down straight from the bridge, since it seemed the helmsman had been there for at least a short while. "Oi, Sulu!" He called out, grinning lazily as he caught the slight look and nod that gave acknowledgment to his call but did not stop the man from running through the last of the pattern he was already in. It was a dizzying flare of silver and light as the blade cut through the air with a faint whine, stabbing out and blocking an invisible opponent.
Kirk had definitely gained a certain respect for fencing after it had saved his ass.
Only when Sulu acknowledged him again, turning to face him fully and gesturing a little with his head, did Kirk come over. "Damn. It's like watching one of those old kung-fu vids or something out of the Three Musketeers." The latter he had a rather old physical copy of sitting on the shelf in his bedroom, one of the few items he had gathered during his years in the academy and decided to keep.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Captain." Sulu remarked in return, a smirk curling the edges of his mouth in a wry sort of humor.
"It is, it is. You up for any more?" Kirk asked out of curiosity, hiding the grin that threatened to arise at the remark his mind said a moment later, That sounded dirty.
Sulu shook his head to the question, walking a few feet to grab a towel, "Just wanted to run through a few things before the mission tomorrow, keep myself loose. It's been a while since I've gone swimming."
That made Kirk laugh, just because of how true it was. "I think I haven't gone since last summer. Should be a workout for everyone. Man, wait until you see what Science has cooked up for us for this mission."
"That bad?"
"The wetsuits are." That made them both laugh. "Everything else is pretty damn cool."
"Mister Sulu?" When they both looked towards where the new voice had interrupted their little conversation, Spock stood in the archway of the training room, wearing the form-fitting black undershirt and loose regulation exercise pants, also black. His demeanor wasn't any different with this change of clothes, but at the moment it tended toward curiosity. Or, at least, that's what the little head tilt communicated. "Are you finished for the evening?"
"Just finished." Sulu said to Spock, then looked to Kirk. "Sorry, Captain. Want to get in a good night's sleep before tomorrow."
Kirk understood, and waved a hand of dismissal. "See you bright and early." He offered a grin to make up for any possible hint of disappointment. Sulu returned it with a small, quick smile of his own. Spock stepped aside smoothly to allow Sulu to pass by in the archway with a nod, and watched him go before those dark eyes slid over to focus on Kirk.
"Should you also retire, Captain?"
Kirk waved his hand to that, "Just got here. Wanted to get a workout, get myself ready for having to swim tomorrow..." He hesitated, then just had to ask, "I'm gonna assume you know how to swim?" Lie. He somehow didn't think someone from a desert planet would know at all how to swim.
"I do." Spock half-turned where he stood, glancing out into the open hall (and the pool, around the corner), and then back to Kirk. "I am skilled in the four most common strokes, and I have some limited experience in diving."
"Good." Kirk gave a lazy grin in Spock's direction, then turned to head out towards the machines set off in their own area of the gym. "You're free to the room." Figuring that was what Spock wanted.
Kirk's words were barely finished before Spock took a small step forward, partially blocking the archway. He turned towards Kirk. "That will not be necessary, as Mister Sulu is not present. Though, if you do not have a set regiment...I have several techniques to bring to your knowledge in regards to this upcoming away mission."
Brows shot up, and Kirk faced Spock fully, "Oh? Like what?" There was a heavy curiosity to those words because he was immediately interested. Techniques? What could Spock mean by that, exactly?
"Varltidans are only somewhat human, and the methods you would use to disable them do not overlap with standard protocol. While this is a diplomatic mission, the possibility of melee combat should not be overlooked."
Oh! Kirk grinned with that, nodding. "By all means, show me." There was a definite interest now - this was something he loved to do but rarely got the chance... now that he wasn't on Earth anymore.
A certain small tension seemed to relax out of Spock's shoulders, but he made no other sign of relief. "Do you prefer to reference weak points on your own body, or mine?"
"Both? You can show me on my body than we'll figure out the reverse." Kirk offered. Spock nodded again, once, and stepped closer.
"The simplest point of retaliation will be the gills, which rest at the sides of the neck." Spock raised his hands and lightly pressed his hot fingers to either side of Kirk's neck, behind the ears. "If you cover them, it will hinder their breathing long enough to gain their attention. If you manage to lodge an implement or your fingernails into the membrane, however, you will cause pain and possibly serious injury." Spock's tone either hinted that he was confident in his source or knew it first hand.
"Gills." Kirk met Spock's eyes from that close distance, and nodded. Easy enough to remember, made sense. He reached up and pressed his fingers to Spock's neck in the similar location.
From this position, fingers against the strong muscles of the Vulcan's neck, he felt Spock tense up, the hint of a shiver. It was quickly followed by a flash of words, your hands are cold, Jim, forgive me, before Spock carried right along as if nothing had happened. "They also lack a formal ribcage, which provides the opportunity for sharp strikes to the heart." One warm hand dropped from Kirk's neck, and the other came down to touch his chest. Spock's hand was in a chop position, with the tips of his fingers pressed below Kirk's heart. "A single jab should seize it, or at least pain them if you do not breach the elastic qualities of the cartilage."
"Cartilage?" Kirk questioned, blinking, his hands not dropping immediately, "So they're like sharks? No bone, just cartilage? Or do they have bones too?" That was a very weird thought, but it made sense considering they were supposed to be a good of fish people.
"They have a rudimentary skeletal system to support them while they are above-water, mainly in the major limbs and the spinal cord." Spock glanced up from where he had been focusing on his own hand against Kirk's chest. "Therefore you should be wary of their flexibility."
There was a dirty joke in the making, right there, but Kirk kept it to himself. Or at least would have, if Spock didn't just happen to be a touch-telepath. Flexibility huh? Too bad they're fish people. "I'll keep that in mind. Really hoping I'll never have to use the information."
Spock gave him that curious look again, the narrowing of his gaze communicating a mild sense of confusion. How would their species prevent what you are insinuating?
It actually took him a few seconds to realize what had happened. There was a mental and physical sputtering, and Kirk jerked back from those heated hands. "Sorry! I... shit, I'm not used to someone being able to hear in my head. Just... ignore that." He had no answer for the weird question, anyway, or at least one that he could tell Spock. There was just something very odd about the idea of fucking a fish. Probably because it seemed like it would be wet, cold, and scaly. Not exactly in his list of turn-ons.
Spock just looked at him before nodding, and then moved behind Kirk, relatively casual in continuing his explanation. For a moment something dug into the middle of his back, over the top of his spine. "There will be a sharp dorsal fin here. Avoid it." The pressure moved down, to a rather benign spot on his lower back, between the small of it and the hip. "This is a particularly important spot, where the nerves of the tail and the legs separate. You can do nothing with their legs--their lower body strength is considerable--but this particular spot will cause a disabling spasm."
"Do they have knees?" Kirk asked, shifting his stance a little. That was always a favorite of his, going for his opponent's knees. They were usually wide open.
"In a general sense," Spock said after a moment of pause. "They are capable of bipedal locomotion in a manner related to our own, yet I do not believe that any blows there will prove effective. Their center of gravity is too low and the knee itself is rather indistinct."
"Mm, mmm." That made sense. Kirk nodded, shifting so he could look at Spock. "Are they stronger than humans? Faster? Definitely faster in water..."
"The tail hinders their movement on land, and so they will be slower than you above water." Spock withdrew his hand from where it pressed, back to his own sides. "They lack strength in their upper limbs due to a lack of necessity; muscle is concentrated along the lower abdomen down to the tail." He brought the flat of his palm to press up against Kirk's stomach. "It allows for greater thrusting force while swimming."
Kirk licked his lips, looking down at Spock's hand. He could feel the Vulcan's warmth through the thin cloth of his tee shirt, making muscle flex slightly. "So avoid stomach shots, then. All that muscle to protect it. Just go for the chest, lower back towards the hips, gills." He could remember that, and he would make mention of it to Sulu too.
The hand dropped from Kirk's stomach as Spock stepped back now and folded his hands over his own stomach in habit. "There are also several chemicals which are caustic to their skin and benign to us, though I doubt they will allow you to carry them."
"Not my style of fighting, anyway." Kirk said lazily. "Besides, all reports point to them being a rather friendly group. Not that I want to take any chances, or anything like that, but I don't want to be obvious about what I've got." He tapped his skull, indicating the knowledge Spock had just given them. "That might turn the tables if necessary."
"Understood." Spock nodded once, though some confusion echoed in his expression--his eyes, more like. The slight narrowing of his gaze that appeared and then flickered away again.
"...You're giving me that look that tells me you said 'understood' but you really don't." Kirk grinned a little, "Just ask a question if you don't get it."
Obviously getting caught in the act was not what Spock had anticipated; he looked away from Kirk. His hands broke their fold in order to move behind his back. "...you say that it is not your style of fighting. Yet what difference does it make if your opponent is defeated and your safety guaranteed?"
Kirk shrugged slightly. "Depends on what the circumstances are. We're coming to them, on their territory... depends on why we ended up fighting. I just don't work with dirty underhanded tricks if I don't have to. I'd rather win by actually winning."
Spock's gaze wavered, looking at him then looking elsewhere in the room as if concentrating on a particular problem. "Do you always adhere to these principles?"
"I try to." Kirk's fingers clenched a little, and his grin was colder. "I've had to break that rule a few times in my life, but I try to."
"...it is rather obvious that you are more than capable of maintaining your own survival." The phrase, oddly, sounded more like Spock was directing it to himself than to Kirk. A reassurance?
Wonder what that meant? Kirk wondered to himself for a second, then shook it off. He gestured to the open area in front of them, "Do you spar?" He wasn't sure if the term would come across, and clarified slightly, "I mean, I came looking for a workout and so did you, and I'd like to see how they train you to fight..."
When Spock glanced back up at him, he didn't quite perk up--but, in a Vulcan-y way, he did. Just the little raise of his chin and the brighter glint in his eye. "If you would like to spar, we may."
Kirk's eyes lit up as well and he walked to the center of the mat. "Just give me a second to stretch out." He waved before he settled himself down to do exactly that. 'Always stretch out your muscles if you have the time. If you see a fight coming, do small stretches while you talk down your opponent if necessary. Or, in your case Jim Kirk, perhaps the alcohol will have made you so loose it will not be necessary.' The old man had laughed, and Kirk had scowled at him. In exchange for a tiny room, some food, and lessons, Kirk had in turn taught self-defense and did the chores for the tiny dojo somewhere in the middle of nowhere New York City. The rest of his money had been earned in other people's rooms.
As he stretched, Spock stayed along the edges of the mat, though his eyes were not always on Kirk. His gaze flickered from one corner of it to the other, as if calculating dimensions. That done, Spock closed his eyes, and stood still. Figures a Vulcan would meditate instead of stretch out. They're supposed to be able to control their bodies in every way, right? He could remember something like that from his classes. Kirk stood up when he was finished, lacing his fingers together, turning the palms out to face Spock, and stretching out his arms. "You ready, Spock?"
When Spock opened his eyes, the initial enthusiasm was different somehow, changed into something with more energy and a harsher edge. "Yes." He stepped forward to the center of the mat. Kirk's eyes narrowed in response, and he watched Spock carefully. He had no idea what sort of fighting style Spock might have, but knew the obvious things about Vulcans like they were way stronger than a human. He figured (hoped) that Spock would restrain at least some of that, but he wouldn't take it for granted.
Kirk shifted his feet apart, knees bent, and he brought his arms up. One loose fist held in front of his cheek, the other at the opposite angle across his lower chest. Prepared to defend strikes for the head or chest-to-abdomen in a breath. Spock's right foot shifted back, his left foot moved forward and bent at the knee, and his hands paralleled the same positions while keeping close to his torso. He bent lower to the ground. It was not necessarily a stance for show to start with, but something to receive any hit that came. A breath, stillness, and in one lightning-fast, fluid motion, the kick came around for Kirk's knee.
He's fast! Kirk barely managed to move his knee out from the kick, and his body responded automatically. It quickly dissolved into a fight merely to actually hit the other, strikes that were delivered and blocked, kicks that were dodged or refocused, quiet except for the harshness of their breath. Kirk's world went fuzzy at the edges with Spock neatly focused in the center, determined to win. Whatever winning currently meant. Points? The first full strike? Kirk had a feeling that they wouldn't stop until one or the other of them was unable to attack by take-down.
So that became his goal. He knew his style was sporadic, but Spock's was anything but. It was all clear gliding motions that flowed consistently into the next movement, amazingly graceful backed by a Vulcan's impressive strength. It sometimes gave Kirk a hint of an edge because sometimes the movements repeated themselves - that strike would be followed with an upward movement, that block came in low - but it wasn't enough of an edge to bring Spock down more than once. Yet Spock didn't seem to be having any easier time with him, so Kirk quickly thanked every bar-fight he had ever been in.
They also frequently found themselves on the mat. Spock's fighting style tended to go lower and focused on bringing Kirk to the ground with strange scissoring twists and ankle sweeps that looked smooth until they deviated and came into the knee instead. But they were both quick, recovering and getting to their feet again to start the cycle again. Until one move where he managed to knock Kirk onto his back and then lunged. The heat of the Vulcan's body felt almost oppressive against his own, with one leg awkwardly pinning his arm by his side, with the other pinned by a grip to his wrist by his shoulder--and strong fingers closed around his throat.
The grip was tight, enough to make Kirk immediately feel the rapid beat of his pulse. Ba-dun, ba-dun, ba-dun. He looked up to Spock's face, those dark eyes looking down at him with determination, seriousness. ...should work.
Kirk's body went limp under Spock's fingers, eyes closing as he let out a breath, like he had passed out.
A flare of panic rushed into Kirk's thoughts from some outside source, burning straight from the bare contact at his throat. The grip barely held to the end of his breath, loosening and withdrawing along with the grip at his wrist and the pressure against his arm. It was the panic that made him panic almost on instinct, eyes opening and Kirk sucking in a hard breath as he scrambled to get up. Wasn't easy dealing with someone else ever being in your head, specially when them being there was like a fireball suddenly exploding.
Spock was still sitting there, looming over him while kneeling, his hands pressed neat to his thighs. "Captain--?"
"M'fine." Kirk rasped out, a hand coming up to rub at his throat. "M'fine." Damn, his throat hurt a little though.
"Are you certain?" Spock didn't sound entirely convinced. "I apologize for the maneuver. You had blocked all of my other attempts and willfully losing would be a dishonour to your ability--"
"I did it on purpose." Kirk said, interrupting Spock. He gave a lazy grin, still rubbing his throat. "I didn't actually pass out."
And a split second later, Spock was on the floor, Kirk's knuckles to his throat in what would have been a crushing blow if he hadn't stopped. Spock's breath was quick and his eyes were wide; Kirk could feel a swallow against his knuckles. Spock's body gradually relaxed, including that grip into his upper arm that would have been his defense. If his voice box wasn't knocked out. "...I see."
Kirk didn't move, his eyes still narrowed. "Give?" He asked quietly. Vulcans had a sense of honor, unlike bastards in a bar fight where not only wouldn't he have stopped, he would have made sure to get a few kicks in afterward.
Dark eyes flickered up and focused on his face. "Yes." Said at the same soft volume, almost private.
Kirk moved all at once and stood up, offering a hand down to Spock. He grinned, that same lazy grin, "Good match. Nice to meet someone worthwhile to spar with."
Spock took his hand and stood with his usual easy grace. Hesitation through one and a half breaths, "...could you elaborate on your last move, Jim?"
"Chokehold." Kirk touched his throat with a light pat of a few fingers. "When you can feel the blood in your veins. You've only got about three seconds before you're going to pass out if they've got your blood stopped, a few more if its your air. So, instead of waiting for it to come, you just 'pass out'. They'll release the hold, never had that fail, and you can get in a strike." Simple, easy, and effective. That's what Kirk liked about it. "Better than struggling."
"Indeed." Spock agreed. The hard edge that had appeared with the beginning of the spar had faded, or perhaps he was just taking getting pinned into the mat like a good sport. "Thank you for demonstrating it."
Kirk rubbed his throat again and laughed, looking to Spock with the rush of their spar still running in his veins. "You wanna go get something to eat still?" He stretched out. "Nothing makes me hungrier than working out."
Curling his wrist in the opposite hand until it cracked (not quite stretching, but the essence was there), Spock answered him. "Dinner would be appreciated."
Unfinished; see the master post.