(Fic) Body Scripture
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Title: Body Scripture
Pairing(s): Spock/Kirk
Rating(s): R (Hard)
Warning(s): Bad Language, hints of sex. Un'Beta'd
Summary: Prompt from st_xi_kink -Ok, still wading through previous prompts (my, but we're a bunch of perverted fuckers, aren't we?) but I haven't seen this yet.
Tattoo kink. Specifically, tattoo's on Spock kink.
I want Spock to be, under that uniform, really heavily tattooed (IDKW - I'm a pervert not a plotter, damn it!) and someone finding out - he gets his shirt torn, has to change in front of them etc - and that someone being all 'Holy shit! How far down do they go?' and then there's hot sexin.
Would prefer other to be Kirk, 'cos thats how I roll, but I'm fairly easy.
A/N: I saw this and I really couldn’t stop myself! Original prompt/post here It wasn’t ment to be this long but I hope that anyone that reads this likes it and Comments as always are very much appreciated!
Bones isn’t fazed but Kirk can’t seem to breathe, just on the threshold of Medical bay door.
It isn’t the nasty phaser burn on Spock’s back, just under the sharp jut of his right shoulder blade that has Jim struggling not to swallow his own tongue, it’s the ink.
Spock has his back to the door and the medical bay is empty so it doesn’t seem like Bones has to have a privacy screen up.
It’s Vulcan that’s as much as Jim can tell when he sees the curl of the symbols, some stark and thick, similar to Romulan facial tattoos but when they near bone, the point of Spock’s should blades it turns spidery, fine like calligraphy and beautiful in Jim’s opinion.
Just swaths of his back covered in text that seems too clean and ancient, and he gasps without meaning to as he follows the line of his spine, just a clean strip of pale flesh like something’s being erased from the text on either side as the tattoos cut off by the band of his pants.
It’s the way Spock turns sharply at the noise, the soft punched out gasp that Kirk can’t help but make. Spock’s eyes are wide and startled his movements quick and flustered as he slips his ruined shirt back on.
“Mr.Spock get your ass back here I haven’t- Oh shit Kirk what the hell are you doing in my sick bay?! Get out!” Mccoy rattles as Spock slips off the edge of the bed.
“As I told you Dr. Mccoy I did not need your medical attention, I only require to go back to my quarters, if you’ll excuse me Captain.” Spock’s tone is even but he doesn’t meet Kirk’s eyes when he pushes past, his steps fast and measured.
“Damnit you pointy-eared-bastard get back here! For the love of- great, just great thanks a lot Jim.” Mccoy huffs, pulling off his latex gloves with a twang as he storms back to his office.
“What did I do!?”
He still can’t stop thinking about it two days later, he doesn’t know whether he saw the rest of those sigils curved round the smooth hill of Spock’s biceps that it might have gone all way down to the crux of the Vulcan’s elbows.
How far does it go?
What does it mean?
Does he have a full shirt?
Does it curve round that perfect ass?
“-Captain, Captain!”
“Hmm” They’re halfway across the Beta quadrant at warp 4 and Jim Kirk can’t stop daydreaming about ordering Spock to take his shirt off.
“A transmission from Starfleet, Admiral Kormac is waiting.” Her tone prickly and Jim feels the tell tale burn of a blush come to his cheeks as the rest of the crew goes eerily quiet.
“Oh umm patch him through Lt. Uhura, thank you.” He coughs and straightens his back trying to ignore the embarrassing burn of his erection “damn these regulation pants” He thinks bitterly as Kormac comes up on screen.
“Captain Kirk, abort your current course to Alter Prime talks between the Ferengi and Romulan has been halted, there will be no need for Starfleets involvement, instead Deep Space Five has requested a Science officer and another Medical Officer.”
“Is there some sort of emergency Admiral?” It’s a genuine concern but the way Kormac is looking at him, it doesn’t seem like he gets that.
“All relevant information has been sent to you captain, Kormac out.” His tones clipped as the screen turns black.
“How far are we from Deep Space 5?” Kirk triesto ignore the niggling worry at the back of his mind.
“We are approximately 200 parsecs Sir, we can get to the station in four days at Maximum Warp.” Sulu double checks his calculations and Jim can practically see him looking forward to the newly installed holodeck they have there.
“Maximum Warp Mr. Sulu and you have the con.” Jim sighs he can feel the tension headache just forming at the back of his eyes and the nervous squirrel of his guts as he walks up to Spock.
“Mr. Spock I’d like to have a word if you’re not busy, we could go over what Kormac’s sent over.” Kirk clasps his hands behind his back, his fingers keep itching because all he can think about doing is tugging Spock’s immaculate blue top.
“I do not believe that would be possible at this time Captain I have to calabrate-“
“It would be more logical to look over our mission see what’s in store for you, me and Bones, I’m sure Ensign Mervel would be more than happy to calabrate whatever needs calabrating while we discuss the mission in my quarters.”
He can see Spock summing up to protest but Kirk cuts him off.
“Great we better get on to this and then it’s out of the way.”
He claps Spock on the shoulder out of some reflex, but he can see the way Spock flinches, the muscle beneath twitch and his palm almost burns with the phantom knowledge of what might be under there, all that ink.
Thank God for Turbo lifts that’s all he thinks because it’s the most uncomfortable two minutes of his life.
Just the taste of recycled air at the back of his throat, and the gnawing image of alien text on flesh.
They end up going over the report for ten minutes before Jim feels likes he’s going to implode.
“I’m sorry.” He blurts it out and hopes that the floor will open up under him, but Spock’s crooked eyebrow and even gaze makes him fidget and stumble for an explanation.
“About what happened a couple of days ago- I mean, I didn’t know you were there and if I upset you then I’m sorry.” Spock’s eyes flicker for a second and it’s something Jim’s learned to pick up after these six months.
He hasn’t got the angles of eyebrow crocks just right yet and his eyes aren’t the easiest to read but he knows he’s getting there.
“There is no need to apologize Captain, it was as you would say “bad timing”.” Spock’s voice is even but he doesn’t look Kirk in the face.
It’s the silence that fills up the room that crawls across Jim’s skin.
“If that is all Captain, I would like to retire to my quarters.” Spock stands, fluid and straight, Jim can’t help but stand up with him, it’s almost like desperation that makes him reach out.
“Wait” It’s like watching a car crash, slow motion and almost in horror as he feels his hand curl round the thick flesh of Spock’s arm.
Spock’s fast, his iron grip on, the bones of his wrist grind and twist as he brings Kirk up tight against him, the heat is almost stifling that comes off Spock but he can’t stop thinking about what’s underneath.
“Do not touch me.” Spock’s voice is almost a growl.
“I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. Fuck it, let me lay this out straight, I can’t stop thinking about you, I know that sounds creepy but Jesus, is it like a full shirt or is it just your back?” Jim blurts it out, feels Spock’s stutter of breath against his lips.
“That is an extremely personal question.” Spock bristles letting go of Jim.
“I know, it’s just. You of all people with tattoos, I mean c’mon Spock you are the one the most conservative and I mean this with great respect uptight people I have ever met and then I walk into to find you’re inked up more than a Hell’s Angel!”
He’s almost gob smacked at the small laugh that rumbles out of him as Spock turns his back on him.
“They are not tattoos.” It’s almost too quiet for Jim to hear but he hears it none the less, the depth of the words shake Spock’s voice.
“Then tell me what they are.” Jim can feel it, like he’s going to snap when Spock turns to him, his head bowed and almost shameful.
“ Ak’shem Ozhit” The words are deep a guttural and Jim feels it in his bones.
“ Roughly translated it-it means Body Scripture, a time when Vulcans where a savage race, they would mark they’re bodies with pray and to prove strength, it soon became such as a way to strengthen weak members of a clan.” Spock’s voice strains for cool and calm but Jim can see the slow emerald creep into the shell of his ears.
And then it hits
‘weak members of a clan’
“You think of yourself as weak?!” Jim almost shouts.
“I would not use that vernacular but I do have a marginal disadvantage due to my human heritage.” Spock tries to clarify but Jim’s fingers tug and tear at Spock’s shirt.
“There is nothing weak about you or this-“ He almost feels like he wasn’t ready as swaths of Spock’s flesh are violently revealed. He can see where symbols, delicate swirls and dark lines of power curl round the just of his collar bones.
The stretched muscle of his chest are taken up by what must be a page of strength and sigils curl round the dark olive flash of his nipples. Even down to the planes of his abs are individually inked.
Just to watch more of that delicate, even violently beautiful scripture cut off by his pants at the cut of his hips.
“is beautiful.” Jim feels the word punched out of him, he’s never been so hard so fast, never wanted to touch or want so badly, his fingers almost burn with it.
“I-I have never heard it been called that word before.” Spock’s voice seems shallow his breath fast and Jim can see it with growing pride that he’s breaking through Spock’s control.
“It is, you are.” Jim can feel his right hand reach, he wants to trance the lines and curls, follow them with his tongue to where ever they lead him on Spock’s body.
“Does this arouse you?” Jim doesn’t even have his pants off but he feels like he’s going to cum as Spock removes the tattered sleeves of his blue shirt.
The lines are thicker like broad strokes of a calligraphy brush, even under his arms where the skin is soft and sensitive but seem to thin out and spider web think to the points of his elbows so effortlessly.
“Fuck yes” Jim swallows as Spock steps closer, so close he can feel the Vulcan’s body heat burn and seep through his own shirt.
They stand, breathing in the same air, Jim can almost taste his skin at the back of his mouth, it nearly hurts to not touch.
“You can.” It’s simple but resonates through Jim and he knows, just knows all way down to his bones what Spock is allowing him to do.
His palms flat and his fingers wide against Spock’s chest and Jim tries not to moan at the current of heat that curls in his gut.
His tongue feels too heavy in his mouth as his kneads against the flesh, like the ink will fade and chip away under his touch, but it’s in the skin, hot and soft just as he pushes up round the lean muscle of Spock’s shoulders and he feels like he shouldn’t have missed how the tattoos seamlessly link.
The gasp is soft but it punctures the silence like the edge of a blade and Jim realizes how close they are, how Spock’s skin beneath the black tinges soft emerald under the trails of his fingers.
“May I?” Spock’s voice seems cool but border devastation as Jim feels his fingers pinch the hem of his shirt.
“Like you have to ask.” He can’t take it and he can’t seem to stop himself as he sucks as his kiss into the unmarked flesh of Spock’s neck.
It’s like white noise beneath the sounds of groaning but he can feel the tear of fabric, the pop snap of his pants and the jolt of Spock’s arm curling round his waist.
He has to look, the way there skin his stark, where the band and black symbols of Spock’s skin ends and the pale smoothness of his own flesh meets, he melt into this, take on that alien ink into his own skin.
It almost feels undignified been lifted and dumped onto his own bed, but Spock’s skin chances it away, Jim hands move and roam like they could blend together if he just touches enough, just kisses and feels Spock mark him then they can tattoo each other like this.
An hour later and Jim’s hands haven’t stopped mapping, lazy trances of symbols in the small of Spock’s back, the curve of his ass where they stretch and curl with the swell and tries not to wriggle at the intimate tickle of Spock’s cum between his own thighs.
“I was totally right.” He sighs and almost laughs at the crock of Spock’s dark eyebrow.
“What was your accurate assumption?” Spock asks his voce while cool seems to dull with they’re after glow that Jim can’t help but knead and roll the globe of flesh in his palm.
“That you have a perfect ass.”
End
A/N: This is great work by a talented and fantastic artist
davincis_girl Please if you like the work go over and check out her journal she does brilliant work and I'm completely indebted for all the great things she's done for me!
Title: Body Scripture
Pairing(s): Spock/Kirk
Rating(s): R (Hard)
Warning(s): Bad Language, hints of sex. Un'Beta'd
Summary: Prompt from st_xi_kink -Ok, still wading through previous prompts (my, but we're a bunch of perverted fuckers, aren't we?) but I haven't seen this yet.
Tattoo kink. Specifically, tattoo's on Spock kink.
I want Spock to be, under that uniform, really heavily tattooed (IDKW - I'm a pervert not a plotter, damn it!) and someone finding out - he gets his shirt torn, has to change in front of them etc - and that someone being all 'Holy shit! How far down do they go?' and then there's hot sexin.
Would prefer other to be Kirk, 'cos thats how I roll, but I'm fairly easy.
A/N: I saw this and I really couldn’t stop myself! Original prompt/post here It wasn’t ment to be this long but I hope that anyone that reads this likes it and Comments as always are very much appreciated!
Bones isn’t fazed but Kirk can’t seem to breathe, just on the threshold of Medical bay door.
It isn’t the nasty phaser burn on Spock’s back, just under the sharp jut of his right shoulder blade that has Jim struggling not to swallow his own tongue, it’s the ink.
Spock has his back to the door and the medical bay is empty so it doesn’t seem like Bones has to have a privacy screen up.
It’s Vulcan that’s as much as Jim can tell when he sees the curl of the symbols, some stark and thick, similar to Romulan facial tattoos but when they near bone, the point of Spock’s should blades it turns spidery, fine like calligraphy and beautiful in Jim’s opinion.
Just swaths of his back covered in text that seems too clean and ancient, and he gasps without meaning to as he follows the line of his spine, just a clean strip of pale flesh like something’s being erased from the text on either side as the tattoos cut off by the band of his pants.
It’s the way Spock turns sharply at the noise, the soft punched out gasp that Kirk can’t help but make. Spock’s eyes are wide and startled his movements quick and flustered as he slips his ruined shirt back on.
“Mr.Spock get your ass back here I haven’t- Oh shit Kirk what the hell are you doing in my sick bay?! Get out!” Mccoy rattles as Spock slips off the edge of the bed.
“As I told you Dr. Mccoy I did not need your medical attention, I only require to go back to my quarters, if you’ll excuse me Captain.” Spock’s tone is even but he doesn’t meet Kirk’s eyes when he pushes past, his steps fast and measured.
“Damnit you pointy-eared-bastard get back here! For the love of- great, just great thanks a lot Jim.” Mccoy huffs, pulling off his latex gloves with a twang as he storms back to his office.
“What did I do!?”
He still can’t stop thinking about it two days later, he doesn’t know whether he saw the rest of those sigils curved round the smooth hill of Spock’s biceps that it might have gone all way down to the crux of the Vulcan’s elbows.
How far does it go?
What does it mean?
Does he have a full shirt?
Does it curve round that perfect ass?
“-Captain, Captain!”
“Hmm” They’re halfway across the Beta quadrant at warp 4 and Jim Kirk can’t stop daydreaming about ordering Spock to take his shirt off.
“A transmission from Starfleet, Admiral Kormac is waiting.” Her tone prickly and Jim feels the tell tale burn of a blush come to his cheeks as the rest of the crew goes eerily quiet.
“Oh umm patch him through Lt. Uhura, thank you.” He coughs and straightens his back trying to ignore the embarrassing burn of his erection “damn these regulation pants” He thinks bitterly as Kormac comes up on screen.
“Captain Kirk, abort your current course to Alter Prime talks between the Ferengi and Romulan has been halted, there will be no need for Starfleets involvement, instead Deep Space Five has requested a Science officer and another Medical Officer.”
“Is there some sort of emergency Admiral?” It’s a genuine concern but the way Kormac is looking at him, it doesn’t seem like he gets that.
“All relevant information has been sent to you captain, Kormac out.” His tones clipped as the screen turns black.
“How far are we from Deep Space 5?” Kirk triesto ignore the niggling worry at the back of his mind.
“We are approximately 200 parsecs Sir, we can get to the station in four days at Maximum Warp.” Sulu double checks his calculations and Jim can practically see him looking forward to the newly installed holodeck they have there.
“Maximum Warp Mr. Sulu and you have the con.” Jim sighs he can feel the tension headache just forming at the back of his eyes and the nervous squirrel of his guts as he walks up to Spock.
“Mr. Spock I’d like to have a word if you’re not busy, we could go over what Kormac’s sent over.” Kirk clasps his hands behind his back, his fingers keep itching because all he can think about doing is tugging Spock’s immaculate blue top.
“I do not believe that would be possible at this time Captain I have to calabrate-“
“It would be more logical to look over our mission see what’s in store for you, me and Bones, I’m sure Ensign Mervel would be more than happy to calabrate whatever needs calabrating while we discuss the mission in my quarters.”
He can see Spock summing up to protest but Kirk cuts him off.
“Great we better get on to this and then it’s out of the way.”
He claps Spock on the shoulder out of some reflex, but he can see the way Spock flinches, the muscle beneath twitch and his palm almost burns with the phantom knowledge of what might be under there, all that ink.
Thank God for Turbo lifts that’s all he thinks because it’s the most uncomfortable two minutes of his life.
Just the taste of recycled air at the back of his throat, and the gnawing image of alien text on flesh.
They end up going over the report for ten minutes before Jim feels likes he’s going to implode.
“I’m sorry.” He blurts it out and hopes that the floor will open up under him, but Spock’s crooked eyebrow and even gaze makes him fidget and stumble for an explanation.
“About what happened a couple of days ago- I mean, I didn’t know you were there and if I upset you then I’m sorry.” Spock’s eyes flicker for a second and it’s something Jim’s learned to pick up after these six months.
He hasn’t got the angles of eyebrow crocks just right yet and his eyes aren’t the easiest to read but he knows he’s getting there.
“There is no need to apologize Captain, it was as you would say “bad timing”.” Spock’s voice is even but he doesn’t look Kirk in the face.
It’s the silence that fills up the room that crawls across Jim’s skin.
“If that is all Captain, I would like to retire to my quarters.” Spock stands, fluid and straight, Jim can’t help but stand up with him, it’s almost like desperation that makes him reach out.
“Wait” It’s like watching a car crash, slow motion and almost in horror as he feels his hand curl round the thick flesh of Spock’s arm.
Spock’s fast, his iron grip on, the bones of his wrist grind and twist as he brings Kirk up tight against him, the heat is almost stifling that comes off Spock but he can’t stop thinking about what’s underneath.
“Do not touch me.” Spock’s voice is almost a growl.
“I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. Fuck it, let me lay this out straight, I can’t stop thinking about you, I know that sounds creepy but Jesus, is it like a full shirt or is it just your back?” Jim blurts it out, feels Spock’s stutter of breath against his lips.
“That is an extremely personal question.” Spock bristles letting go of Jim.
“I know, it’s just. You of all people with tattoos, I mean c’mon Spock you are the one the most conservative and I mean this with great respect uptight people I have ever met and then I walk into to find you’re inked up more than a Hell’s Angel!”
He’s almost gob smacked at the small laugh that rumbles out of him as Spock turns his back on him.
“They are not tattoos.” It’s almost too quiet for Jim to hear but he hears it none the less, the depth of the words shake Spock’s voice.
“Then tell me what they are.” Jim can feel it, like he’s going to snap when Spock turns to him, his head bowed and almost shameful.
“ Ak’shem Ozhit” The words are deep a guttural and Jim feels it in his bones.
“ Roughly translated it-it means Body Scripture, a time when Vulcans where a savage race, they would mark they’re bodies with pray and to prove strength, it soon became such as a way to strengthen weak members of a clan.” Spock’s voice strains for cool and calm but Jim can see the slow emerald creep into the shell of his ears.
And then it hits
‘weak members of a clan’
“You think of yourself as weak?!” Jim almost shouts.
“I would not use that vernacular but I do have a marginal disadvantage due to my human heritage.” Spock tries to clarify but Jim’s fingers tug and tear at Spock’s shirt.
“There is nothing weak about you or this-“ He almost feels like he wasn’t ready as swaths of Spock’s flesh are violently revealed. He can see where symbols, delicate swirls and dark lines of power curl round the just of his collar bones.
The stretched muscle of his chest are taken up by what must be a page of strength and sigils curl round the dark olive flash of his nipples. Even down to the planes of his abs are individually inked.
Just to watch more of that delicate, even violently beautiful scripture cut off by his pants at the cut of his hips.
“is beautiful.” Jim feels the word punched out of him, he’s never been so hard so fast, never wanted to touch or want so badly, his fingers almost burn with it.
“I-I have never heard it been called that word before.” Spock’s voice seems shallow his breath fast and Jim can see it with growing pride that he’s breaking through Spock’s control.
“It is, you are.” Jim can feel his right hand reach, he wants to trance the lines and curls, follow them with his tongue to where ever they lead him on Spock’s body.
“Does this arouse you?” Jim doesn’t even have his pants off but he feels like he’s going to cum as Spock removes the tattered sleeves of his blue shirt.
The lines are thicker like broad strokes of a calligraphy brush, even under his arms where the skin is soft and sensitive but seem to thin out and spider web think to the points of his elbows so effortlessly.
“Fuck yes” Jim swallows as Spock steps closer, so close he can feel the Vulcan’s body heat burn and seep through his own shirt.
They stand, breathing in the same air, Jim can almost taste his skin at the back of his mouth, it nearly hurts to not touch.
“You can.” It’s simple but resonates through Jim and he knows, just knows all way down to his bones what Spock is allowing him to do.
His palms flat and his fingers wide against Spock’s chest and Jim tries not to moan at the current of heat that curls in his gut.
His tongue feels too heavy in his mouth as his kneads against the flesh, like the ink will fade and chip away under his touch, but it’s in the skin, hot and soft just as he pushes up round the lean muscle of Spock’s shoulders and he feels like he shouldn’t have missed how the tattoos seamlessly link.
The gasp is soft but it punctures the silence like the edge of a blade and Jim realizes how close they are, how Spock’s skin beneath the black tinges soft emerald under the trails of his fingers.
“May I?” Spock’s voice seems cool but border devastation as Jim feels his fingers pinch the hem of his shirt.
“Like you have to ask.” He can’t take it and he can’t seem to stop himself as he sucks as his kiss into the unmarked flesh of Spock’s neck.
It’s like white noise beneath the sounds of groaning but he can feel the tear of fabric, the pop snap of his pants and the jolt of Spock’s arm curling round his waist.
He has to look, the way there skin his stark, where the band and black symbols of Spock’s skin ends and the pale smoothness of his own flesh meets, he melt into this, take on that alien ink into his own skin.
It almost feels undignified been lifted and dumped onto his own bed, but Spock’s skin chances it away, Jim hands move and roam like they could blend together if he just touches enough, just kisses and feels Spock mark him then they can tattoo each other like this.
An hour later and Jim’s hands haven’t stopped mapping, lazy trances of symbols in the small of Spock’s back, the curve of his ass where they stretch and curl with the swell and tries not to wriggle at the intimate tickle of Spock’s cum between his own thighs.
“I was totally right.” He sighs and almost laughs at the crock of Spock’s dark eyebrow.
“What was your accurate assumption?” Spock asks his voce while cool seems to dull with they’re after glow that Jim can’t help but knead and roll the globe of flesh in his palm.
“That you have a perfect ass.”
End
A/N: This is great work by a talented and fantastic artist
davincis_girl Please if you like the work go over and check out her journal she does brilliant work and I'm completely indebted for all the great things she's done for me!