Ficmas Cards (6)
I'm back on the road again... Ahem. Worst singing voice ever, I know. ;)
Two cards to go today. So sorry for being late. *facepalm* More to come!
For: ariadnechan
Prompt: i want a k/s mirror ficcy from you! :) Past Pike/Spock. Spock is the captain's man, but this time Kirk will be only his!
Rating: R
Warnings: Not that anybody else is particularly pretty, but Pike is sort of a bad guy here. Dubcon (kind of) implied.
A/N: I'm not sure if I got your idea right, but I hope you'll like it anyway.
Kirk stares at the sobbing woman indifferently. She hasn’t been that bright a find where her professional qualities were concerned, and as for her other assets - the captain asks himself vaguely why he has ever found her attractive.
It is irrelevant now, in any case, because she has filed a complaint against Spock. On this ship, no one gets to do that and live - Spock’s people inevitably take care of that. Not that Spock orders them to, but then, he doesn’t have to. Vulcan loyalty is rivaled only by Vulcan cunning.
The fact that she filed a complaint at all, knowing, no doubt, exactly what that would entail… Now, that is interesting. She must have been really desperate to try.
Spock isn’t exactly known for his gentle touch or his tolerance toward incompetence, that much is true, Kirk muses. But the formidable Vulcan is hardwired on efficiency first and foremost. He’s theoretically above personal likes and dislikes, only caring about his requirements being met.
Spock also doesn’t act out of spite. He isn’t a vengeance for the sake of vengeance kind of guy. He certainly has no qualms about murdering someone in cold blood, but he always has a point to make or a goal to achieve.
And this yeoman - this yeoman isn’t even one of Spock’s, she’s Kirk’s. Four yeomen in two months, ever since he took command, and Kirk hasn’t ever been soft or sentimental, but he prefers a certain stability now that he has to run a starship. He doesn’t have time to break in a new yeoman every other week, and Spock told him clearly from the beginning that it wasn’t a job he’d be interested in.
Except now, Kirk is staring at a pitiful mess of yeoman number five, who is definitely about to become another link in a long chain of people whom Spock deemed necessary to get rid of, one way or another. That all those people have been close to Kirk is no coincidence.
Frowning, Kirk nods at his guards to dispose of the woman, and goes in search of his XO.
Spock is in his quarters, and he rises automatically when Kirk enters. Kirk has noted that the guards at Spock’s door make no attempt to stop him. He doesn’t know what to make of it yet.
“Commander, I thought we had an understanding,” Kirk says without preamble. “I don’t ask after your experiments, and you don’t interfere with my captaincy.”
Spock watches him carefully, hands clasped tightly behind his back in a dangerous illusion of immobility. “Correct, sir.”
“Then why have you taken upon yourself to harass my staff into either quitting or dying or having a nervous breakdown? I’m tired of having to deal with new people. If you expect me to fill these positions with Vulcans, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
Kirk has expected Spock to deny it or to feign ignorance. To his surprise, Spock looks away.
“That - was not my intention, Captain,” he replies, sounding almost - embarrassed? Kirk blinks, fighting the urge to pinch himself. “I was merely - unprepared - for their complete incompetence.” He looks at Kirk, something elusive flickering in his eyes for a moment. “I did not actively seek to make them leave, sir. However, in the interests of full disclosure - as per our agreement - I am obliged to confess that I do not regret their removal, either.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Captain. It is my belief that you deserve more - professional - personnel than that.”
Kirk stares at him hard, trying desperately to figure out what the hell Spock is playing at.
“Look, Spock,” Kirk starts carefully. “You know I respect you. Remember when we planned Pike’s assassination? Remember when I promised you I’d never treat you like he did if you helped me?”
Spock’s whole silhouette stiffens into stone. “Yes, sir,” he utters tightly.
Kirk suppresses a sigh. “In my life, I have never regretted a promise I’ve given more.”
Spock’s eyes snap wide open, as the Vulcan stares at him, unwilling or unable to hide his shock and - fear? Or is it something else?
Kirk studies his first officer intently. He’d spoken the truth. He would not have been able to take Pike down without Spock’s help, but the fact that he’d had to give up one of the reasons he craved Pike’s position so much had been hard to reconcile with. The price for Spock’s assistance was high indeed.
“Yes, I regret it,” Kirk repeats, eyes trained on Spock. “But I never go back on my word, Mr. Spock. I said I’d never invoke that particular privilege, and I didn’t.” He softens his tone deliberately, the art of deception being second nature to him. “Unless you take offense in me checking you out, of course, but you can’t really blame me for that. I’m alive, after all.”
Is it his imagination, or has Spock just drawn in a sharper breath?
“I have been... satisfied with the way you held up your end of the bargain, Captain,” Spock says quietly.
“Yeah.” Kirk nods, eyes narrowing. “So what’s with sabotaging my staff? Is this your idea of fair play?”
Spock swallows, glancing away again, and Kirk is more intrigued by the second.
“They have been harboring... That is, I aimed to protect you from - unwanted attentions.”
Kirk stares. “Unwanted attentions,” he repeats incredulously.
Spock frowns, still not meeting his eyes. “The way they - threw themselves at you was inappropriate. It distracted you from performing your duties, and that puts the ship at risk.”
“Oh my God, is this about that fucking blowjob again?” Kirk sighs impatiently, remembering how Spock walked in on him and yeoman what’s-her-name-again going down on him in the ready room as he dealt with paperwork. “I never pegged you for a hypocrite, Mr. Spock. You ‘distracted’ Pike in that manner plenty, and the ship’s still in one piece!”
Immediately, Kirk regrets his outburst. He’d learned to never show his emotions very early in his career, lest others use them against him. But he was just - so angry. From the moment he was first stationed on the Enterprise as a tactical officer and learned about the full range of services Spock was forced to provide the captain with, Kirk felt an unusual, boiling fury. He didn’t know if he was madder at Pike (illogical, since the captain was lawfully entitled) for using Spock thus, or at Spock for just taking it.
But after he came to know Spock a little better, Kirk realized that the Vulcan was essentially trapped. The only way he could get rid of Pike was by killing him, but that would have made Spock captain, and, for some reason, Spock was adamantly against the idea. (Which, in retrospect, was probably why Pike felt so confident and secure around Spock, never even keeping a guard around.)
Kirk could never really explain his own reaction, not even to himself. He had never been concerned with any kind of morals in his life. And Spock’s situation hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary - the practice was well known throughout the fleet. It was considered normal, a rite of passage. Nothing to get worked up about.
But there was something about Spock himself, something intangible but sharp as a diamond, that made it wrong for him. So very, very wrong.
Till that moment, Kirk’s plan had been to wait for an opportunity to seize command while learning everything he could from Pike in the process. Meeting Spock changed everything, and Kirk hadn’t noticed how he’d switched from secretly admiring the second most powerful person onboard to actively planning taking the place of the first. He just knew he had to do it.
“You are correct, of course,” Spock says, eyes downcast, posture rigid.
Kirk feels like a bastard, and that’s a feat, considering that he can hardly even remember what conscience is. But watching Spock flush with shame he’s unable to suppress, this proud creature being reduced to something cheap and filthy, first by Pike’s actions and then by Kirk’s own remarks, is painful for reasons Kirk wouldn’t care to examine. Spock was born for something else, he thinks - something else entirely.
Kirk doesn’t want to dwell on how strange and hazardous his trail of thought is.
“I would take any punishment you see fit, Captain,” Spock continues calmly, having composed himself sufficiently to look up at Kirk. “I would merely like to point out that my actions, while regrettable, did not have intent of inconveniencing you. In fact, I must confess that they did not have intent at all.”
Kirk blinks. “You mean, you scared them off by accident?”
Spock purses his lips. “Not by accident, but it would appear that I... could not help myself. Their behavior was unacceptable.”
Kirk’s eyebrows fly up. “Because they wanted to sleep with me? That’s-”
And suddenly, he gets it. It’s clear in the way Spock frowns stubbornly and doesn’t try to explain further. It’s blatantly transparent in the way he methodically eliminated everyone who dared to touch the new captain in the last two months, when he couldn’t have cared less when someone went after Pike.
It’s completely unexpected and incredibly dangerous, but also exciting as fuck, and Kirk doesn’t think he can help it. Really, knows for a fact that he can’t.
“Mr. Spock,” he says slowly, fighting a stupid grin splitting up his face. “I’m... flattered.”
Spock stares at Kirk, and he might be blushing again, but he doesn’t look away. Kirk holds his eyes, hopeful and wary.
“Captain?” Spock asks cautiously.
“Answer me this,” Kirk says, command soft but clear in his tone. “When I said I regretted my promise to you, I didn’t ask, but... Do you regret it, too, by any chance?”
Spock is silent for a while, but when he speaks it’s with absolute certainty. “Very much indeed.”
Kirk’s heart jumps to his throat, but he tries not to show it, smirking confidently, challengingly. He steps closer, crowding Spock’s personal space. Spock doesn’t pull back, watching him, and it’s different and frighteningly similar at the same time to the way he watches potential assassins.
“So if I do this,” Kirk purrs, sliding one hand to squeeze Spock’s ass, while the other caresses the back of his neck before grabbing a fistful of hair and twisting it. “And this…” He reaches to catch Spock’s earlobe between his teeth teasingly. “Will that be... acceptable?”
There’s a second of hesitation before Spock’s arms close around Kirk determinedly, and his hip slides between Kirk’s thighs, grinding home.
“Yes,” Spock breathes.
Kirk smirks and says, “Excellent,” before pulling Spock down into a kiss.
For: jimpage363
Prompt: Star Trek Reboot, McCoy/Spock
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual references)
A/N: You didn't specify what you wished for me to do, apart from the pairing, so I wrote what came to mind for them. I hope it's okay.
McCoy walks into his office to find a highly amused captain lounging in the visitor’s chair and a beautifully organized meal for two served upon his desk. There’s even - God, that’s a mint julep sitting innocently beside a bowl of salad. McCoy blinks.
“And to think,” Jim says merrily, “that in all these years, he never brought me so much as a cup of coffee.” He glances up at his friend in clear amusement. “What’s your secret, Bones?”
“No way I’m telling you,” McCoy retorts, failing to fight off a grin. His eyes are feasting at the smart arrangement.
“Oh, come on, Bones, don’t be like that.” Jim pouts. “If you don’t tell me, you’ll be responsible for me dying alone and miserable while you and Spock make a million of logically emotional babies.”
“First, last time I did your and Sulu’s physicals, it didn’t look like you were going to die alone, so stop whining. And second…” McCoy reaches out and smacks him on the back of the head lightly. “That’s for making fun of Spock.”
“Ow! I thought you liked making fun of Spock.”
“I do, and I’m the only one who gets to do it.”
“Ouch.” Jim makes a show of rubbing his neck. “Do you scent-mark him, too?”
“Do I have to?” McCoy grumbles and finally turns to face Jim, squinting at him. “What are you even doing here?”
Jim shoots him a sunny grin. “I wanted to investigate what had my first officer locked up in the labs all day. Imagine my surprise when I found him cooking instead. And would you look at that, Bones? Cornbread, sweet potatoes, chicken steak, pecan pie - you sure you guys are already dating?”
“Shut up,” McCoy snaps benevolently, but he can’t take his eyes off the table, either, or wipe a rather silly grin off his face.
“Or is that what it takes to convince you to bottom for once?”
“Shut up, Jim. I mean it.”
“I’m just saying. At the Academy, you never-”
“I swear to God, if you aren’t outta here in two seconds, I’ll stick enough hypos in you to make you look like an Aldebaran hedgehog!”
Jim jumps to his feet. “Whoa! Hold it, I’m leaving! Honestly, can’t you take a joke?”
“I’m counting to three. One. Two-”
“Bye, Bones. You’re no fun at all!” The last words mercifully come from behind the door.
McCoy rolls his eyes.
He activates the terminal and checks his schedule quickly, even though he’s sure Spock has already done that - Spock is nothing if not consistent and thorough. Sure enough, he’s free from now almost through midday tomorrow. He has no idea what Spock has planned, and a warm coil of anticipation begins to curl pleasantly in his stomach.
“What did the captain want?”
McCoy jumps, startled. Sure enough, Spock is standing in the doorway, quiet and sudden like an apparition.
“Jesus,” McCoy breathes out. “A bell. I’m getting you a goddamn bell. It’s official.”
“My apologies,” Spock says mildly, even though his eyes crinkle with amusement.
He eliminates the distance between them in two long steps that look like he’s gliding rather than walking, and then he’s pulling McCoy close and kissing him without another word. McCoy swallows his surprise for a moment and kisses right back, one hand resting possessively over Spock’s hip, the other creeping beneath his shirt to slide along the warm skin of his back.
Spock shivers and breaks the kiss. “Shall we eat first?”
He moves to pull up a chair, but McCoy holds him in place. “Not so fast.” Spock stills and looks at him. McCoy smiles. “Darlin’, not that I don’t appreciate the surprise, but - what’s all this about?”
Spock leans against the arms holding him. Not for the first time, McCoy marvels quietly that, for someone who seems to avoid physical contact with others at all costs, Spock is quite a touch slut when it comes to his - boyfriend? Partner?
“I prepared a meal to mark the occasion,” Spock explains, rubbing McCoy’s shoulders gently. He seems to have a fetish for his lover’s arms.
“What’s the occasion?” McCoy asks cautiously. He’s always been a complete failure with this sort of thing. (Never could remember Jocelyn’s birthday, which pissed her off to no end.)
“Today is six months precisely that we have been together.”
McCoy stills. “Really.” He hasn’t forgotten so much as he never kept count. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Spock, I-”
Spock leans in and presses a quick silencing kiss to his lips. He forgets to pull away afterwards, hands gently massaging the back of McCoy’s neck, easing the day’s tension.
“Shh, Leonard, I am aware.” Spock nips at his jaw softly. “I do not believe that dates such as this hold special significance. I am not upset that you did not know. I did not make a special effort to remember, either. It is merely a function of my brain.”
“But you made a meal,” McCoy grumbles unhappily.
Spock’s lips quirk up slightly. “An excuse to please you - nothing else, I assure you.”
McCoy lets out a startled laugh. “Really.”
Spock kisses him again, hot, deep, and short. “Indeed. Shall we?”
McCoy lets go and pulls up a chair for Spock gallantly. Spock gives him a slightly perplexed eyebrow, but, instead of voicing an objection, manipulates the console to engage a privacy lock on the door. A surge of pure affection overcomes McCoy, and he reaches out to ruffle Spock’s hair. Spock gives him a glare that he doesn’t mean, and McCoy laughs.
“How did this happen?” he mutters mostly to himself rather than to Spock. “When? I mean, I know we started having sex six months ago, you just said so. But when did you...” He trails off, his incredulity winning over.
Spock tenses slightly. “When did I - what, Leonard?”
McCoy breathes in and out and asks, “When did you manage to fall in love with me?”
Color spills across Spock’s face like a sunrise. He makes an effort to hold McCoy’s gaze, but eventually fails, and drops his eyes.
“I,” Spock lets out, “I do not... that is, I wished to tell you...”
“Spock...” McCoy utters, stunned. “Oh dammit, come here, you stupid green-blooded Vulcan. Come here.”
He pulls Spock out of the chair by the hand and backs him into a wall. Spock goes willingly, allowing himself to be maneuvered, but his eyes are alert, wary and searching, and he’s tense like a bowstring.
“Is the food reheatable?” McCoy asks, fumbling with Spock’s belt.
“Yes,” Spock says, and gasps as McCoy’s hand palms him roughly.
McCoy stops for a moment in favor of kissing that guarded, mildly panicked look off Spock’s face. “Good,” he murmurs against Spock’s lips. “‘Cause I give better head than you do, and I’m about to top my own record.” He smirks. “You might wanna hold onto something.”
Spock fucking shudders, hardly even touched yet, and McCoy’s smirk grows into something smug and triumphant as he sinks down to his knees.
Spock takes hold of his chin, making him look up, and okay, he wins this round, because McCoy doesn’t have an answer for him. But he will, McCoy thinks determinedly, expertly manipulating clothes and body parts. He will. He knows Spock can hear the vehement promise through the skin-to-skin contact.
Mercifully, it’s enough.
Two cards to go today. So sorry for being late. *facepalm* More to come!
For: ariadnechan
Prompt: i want a k/s mirror ficcy from you! :) Past Pike/Spock. Spock is the captain's man, but this time Kirk will be only his!
Rating: R
Warnings: Not that anybody else is particularly pretty, but Pike is sort of a bad guy here. Dubcon (kind of) implied.
A/N: I'm not sure if I got your idea right, but I hope you'll like it anyway.
Kirk stares at the sobbing woman indifferently. She hasn’t been that bright a find where her professional qualities were concerned, and as for her other assets - the captain asks himself vaguely why he has ever found her attractive.
It is irrelevant now, in any case, because she has filed a complaint against Spock. On this ship, no one gets to do that and live - Spock’s people inevitably take care of that. Not that Spock orders them to, but then, he doesn’t have to. Vulcan loyalty is rivaled only by Vulcan cunning.
The fact that she filed a complaint at all, knowing, no doubt, exactly what that would entail… Now, that is interesting. She must have been really desperate to try.
Spock isn’t exactly known for his gentle touch or his tolerance toward incompetence, that much is true, Kirk muses. But the formidable Vulcan is hardwired on efficiency first and foremost. He’s theoretically above personal likes and dislikes, only caring about his requirements being met.
Spock also doesn’t act out of spite. He isn’t a vengeance for the sake of vengeance kind of guy. He certainly has no qualms about murdering someone in cold blood, but he always has a point to make or a goal to achieve.
And this yeoman - this yeoman isn’t even one of Spock’s, she’s Kirk’s. Four yeomen in two months, ever since he took command, and Kirk hasn’t ever been soft or sentimental, but he prefers a certain stability now that he has to run a starship. He doesn’t have time to break in a new yeoman every other week, and Spock told him clearly from the beginning that it wasn’t a job he’d be interested in.
Except now, Kirk is staring at a pitiful mess of yeoman number five, who is definitely about to become another link in a long chain of people whom Spock deemed necessary to get rid of, one way or another. That all those people have been close to Kirk is no coincidence.
Frowning, Kirk nods at his guards to dispose of the woman, and goes in search of his XO.
Spock is in his quarters, and he rises automatically when Kirk enters. Kirk has noted that the guards at Spock’s door make no attempt to stop him. He doesn’t know what to make of it yet.
“Commander, I thought we had an understanding,” Kirk says without preamble. “I don’t ask after your experiments, and you don’t interfere with my captaincy.”
Spock watches him carefully, hands clasped tightly behind his back in a dangerous illusion of immobility. “Correct, sir.”
“Then why have you taken upon yourself to harass my staff into either quitting or dying or having a nervous breakdown? I’m tired of having to deal with new people. If you expect me to fill these positions with Vulcans, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
Kirk has expected Spock to deny it or to feign ignorance. To his surprise, Spock looks away.
“That - was not my intention, Captain,” he replies, sounding almost - embarrassed? Kirk blinks, fighting the urge to pinch himself. “I was merely - unprepared - for their complete incompetence.” He looks at Kirk, something elusive flickering in his eyes for a moment. “I did not actively seek to make them leave, sir. However, in the interests of full disclosure - as per our agreement - I am obliged to confess that I do not regret their removal, either.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Captain. It is my belief that you deserve more - professional - personnel than that.”
Kirk stares at him hard, trying desperately to figure out what the hell Spock is playing at.
“Look, Spock,” Kirk starts carefully. “You know I respect you. Remember when we planned Pike’s assassination? Remember when I promised you I’d never treat you like he did if you helped me?”
Spock’s whole silhouette stiffens into stone. “Yes, sir,” he utters tightly.
Kirk suppresses a sigh. “In my life, I have never regretted a promise I’ve given more.”
Spock’s eyes snap wide open, as the Vulcan stares at him, unwilling or unable to hide his shock and - fear? Or is it something else?
Kirk studies his first officer intently. He’d spoken the truth. He would not have been able to take Pike down without Spock’s help, but the fact that he’d had to give up one of the reasons he craved Pike’s position so much had been hard to reconcile with. The price for Spock’s assistance was high indeed.
“Yes, I regret it,” Kirk repeats, eyes trained on Spock. “But I never go back on my word, Mr. Spock. I said I’d never invoke that particular privilege, and I didn’t.” He softens his tone deliberately, the art of deception being second nature to him. “Unless you take offense in me checking you out, of course, but you can’t really blame me for that. I’m alive, after all.”
Is it his imagination, or has Spock just drawn in a sharper breath?
“I have been... satisfied with the way you held up your end of the bargain, Captain,” Spock says quietly.
“Yeah.” Kirk nods, eyes narrowing. “So what’s with sabotaging my staff? Is this your idea of fair play?”
Spock swallows, glancing away again, and Kirk is more intrigued by the second.
“They have been harboring... That is, I aimed to protect you from - unwanted attentions.”
Kirk stares. “Unwanted attentions,” he repeats incredulously.
Spock frowns, still not meeting his eyes. “The way they - threw themselves at you was inappropriate. It distracted you from performing your duties, and that puts the ship at risk.”
“Oh my God, is this about that fucking blowjob again?” Kirk sighs impatiently, remembering how Spock walked in on him and yeoman what’s-her-name-again going down on him in the ready room as he dealt with paperwork. “I never pegged you for a hypocrite, Mr. Spock. You ‘distracted’ Pike in that manner plenty, and the ship’s still in one piece!”
Immediately, Kirk regrets his outburst. He’d learned to never show his emotions very early in his career, lest others use them against him. But he was just - so angry. From the moment he was first stationed on the Enterprise as a tactical officer and learned about the full range of services Spock was forced to provide the captain with, Kirk felt an unusual, boiling fury. He didn’t know if he was madder at Pike (illogical, since the captain was lawfully entitled) for using Spock thus, or at Spock for just taking it.
But after he came to know Spock a little better, Kirk realized that the Vulcan was essentially trapped. The only way he could get rid of Pike was by killing him, but that would have made Spock captain, and, for some reason, Spock was adamantly against the idea. (Which, in retrospect, was probably why Pike felt so confident and secure around Spock, never even keeping a guard around.)
Kirk could never really explain his own reaction, not even to himself. He had never been concerned with any kind of morals in his life. And Spock’s situation hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary - the practice was well known throughout the fleet. It was considered normal, a rite of passage. Nothing to get worked up about.
But there was something about Spock himself, something intangible but sharp as a diamond, that made it wrong for him. So very, very wrong.
Till that moment, Kirk’s plan had been to wait for an opportunity to seize command while learning everything he could from Pike in the process. Meeting Spock changed everything, and Kirk hadn’t noticed how he’d switched from secretly admiring the second most powerful person onboard to actively planning taking the place of the first. He just knew he had to do it.
“You are correct, of course,” Spock says, eyes downcast, posture rigid.
Kirk feels like a bastard, and that’s a feat, considering that he can hardly even remember what conscience is. But watching Spock flush with shame he’s unable to suppress, this proud creature being reduced to something cheap and filthy, first by Pike’s actions and then by Kirk’s own remarks, is painful for reasons Kirk wouldn’t care to examine. Spock was born for something else, he thinks - something else entirely.
Kirk doesn’t want to dwell on how strange and hazardous his trail of thought is.
“I would take any punishment you see fit, Captain,” Spock continues calmly, having composed himself sufficiently to look up at Kirk. “I would merely like to point out that my actions, while regrettable, did not have intent of inconveniencing you. In fact, I must confess that they did not have intent at all.”
Kirk blinks. “You mean, you scared them off by accident?”
Spock purses his lips. “Not by accident, but it would appear that I... could not help myself. Their behavior was unacceptable.”
Kirk’s eyebrows fly up. “Because they wanted to sleep with me? That’s-”
And suddenly, he gets it. It’s clear in the way Spock frowns stubbornly and doesn’t try to explain further. It’s blatantly transparent in the way he methodically eliminated everyone who dared to touch the new captain in the last two months, when he couldn’t have cared less when someone went after Pike.
It’s completely unexpected and incredibly dangerous, but also exciting as fuck, and Kirk doesn’t think he can help it. Really, knows for a fact that he can’t.
“Mr. Spock,” he says slowly, fighting a stupid grin splitting up his face. “I’m... flattered.”
Spock stares at Kirk, and he might be blushing again, but he doesn’t look away. Kirk holds his eyes, hopeful and wary.
“Captain?” Spock asks cautiously.
“Answer me this,” Kirk says, command soft but clear in his tone. “When I said I regretted my promise to you, I didn’t ask, but... Do you regret it, too, by any chance?”
Spock is silent for a while, but when he speaks it’s with absolute certainty. “Very much indeed.”
Kirk’s heart jumps to his throat, but he tries not to show it, smirking confidently, challengingly. He steps closer, crowding Spock’s personal space. Spock doesn’t pull back, watching him, and it’s different and frighteningly similar at the same time to the way he watches potential assassins.
“So if I do this,” Kirk purrs, sliding one hand to squeeze Spock’s ass, while the other caresses the back of his neck before grabbing a fistful of hair and twisting it. “And this…” He reaches to catch Spock’s earlobe between his teeth teasingly. “Will that be... acceptable?”
There’s a second of hesitation before Spock’s arms close around Kirk determinedly, and his hip slides between Kirk’s thighs, grinding home.
“Yes,” Spock breathes.
Kirk smirks and says, “Excellent,” before pulling Spock down into a kiss.
For: jimpage363
Prompt: Star Trek Reboot, McCoy/Spock
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual references)
A/N: You didn't specify what you wished for me to do, apart from the pairing, so I wrote what came to mind for them. I hope it's okay.
McCoy walks into his office to find a highly amused captain lounging in the visitor’s chair and a beautifully organized meal for two served upon his desk. There’s even - God, that’s a mint julep sitting innocently beside a bowl of salad. McCoy blinks.
“And to think,” Jim says merrily, “that in all these years, he never brought me so much as a cup of coffee.” He glances up at his friend in clear amusement. “What’s your secret, Bones?”
“No way I’m telling you,” McCoy retorts, failing to fight off a grin. His eyes are feasting at the smart arrangement.
“Oh, come on, Bones, don’t be like that.” Jim pouts. “If you don’t tell me, you’ll be responsible for me dying alone and miserable while you and Spock make a million of logically emotional babies.”
“First, last time I did your and Sulu’s physicals, it didn’t look like you were going to die alone, so stop whining. And second…” McCoy reaches out and smacks him on the back of the head lightly. “That’s for making fun of Spock.”
“Ow! I thought you liked making fun of Spock.”
“I do, and I’m the only one who gets to do it.”
“Ouch.” Jim makes a show of rubbing his neck. “Do you scent-mark him, too?”
“Do I have to?” McCoy grumbles and finally turns to face Jim, squinting at him. “What are you even doing here?”
Jim shoots him a sunny grin. “I wanted to investigate what had my first officer locked up in the labs all day. Imagine my surprise when I found him cooking instead. And would you look at that, Bones? Cornbread, sweet potatoes, chicken steak, pecan pie - you sure you guys are already dating?”
“Shut up,” McCoy snaps benevolently, but he can’t take his eyes off the table, either, or wipe a rather silly grin off his face.
“Or is that what it takes to convince you to bottom for once?”
“Shut up, Jim. I mean it.”
“I’m just saying. At the Academy, you never-”
“I swear to God, if you aren’t outta here in two seconds, I’ll stick enough hypos in you to make you look like an Aldebaran hedgehog!”
Jim jumps to his feet. “Whoa! Hold it, I’m leaving! Honestly, can’t you take a joke?”
“I’m counting to three. One. Two-”
“Bye, Bones. You’re no fun at all!” The last words mercifully come from behind the door.
McCoy rolls his eyes.
He activates the terminal and checks his schedule quickly, even though he’s sure Spock has already done that - Spock is nothing if not consistent and thorough. Sure enough, he’s free from now almost through midday tomorrow. He has no idea what Spock has planned, and a warm coil of anticipation begins to curl pleasantly in his stomach.
“What did the captain want?”
McCoy jumps, startled. Sure enough, Spock is standing in the doorway, quiet and sudden like an apparition.
“Jesus,” McCoy breathes out. “A bell. I’m getting you a goddamn bell. It’s official.”
“My apologies,” Spock says mildly, even though his eyes crinkle with amusement.
He eliminates the distance between them in two long steps that look like he’s gliding rather than walking, and then he’s pulling McCoy close and kissing him without another word. McCoy swallows his surprise for a moment and kisses right back, one hand resting possessively over Spock’s hip, the other creeping beneath his shirt to slide along the warm skin of his back.
Spock shivers and breaks the kiss. “Shall we eat first?”
He moves to pull up a chair, but McCoy holds him in place. “Not so fast.” Spock stills and looks at him. McCoy smiles. “Darlin’, not that I don’t appreciate the surprise, but - what’s all this about?”
Spock leans against the arms holding him. Not for the first time, McCoy marvels quietly that, for someone who seems to avoid physical contact with others at all costs, Spock is quite a touch slut when it comes to his - boyfriend? Partner?
“I prepared a meal to mark the occasion,” Spock explains, rubbing McCoy’s shoulders gently. He seems to have a fetish for his lover’s arms.
“What’s the occasion?” McCoy asks cautiously. He’s always been a complete failure with this sort of thing. (Never could remember Jocelyn’s birthday, which pissed her off to no end.)
“Today is six months precisely that we have been together.”
McCoy stills. “Really.” He hasn’t forgotten so much as he never kept count. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Spock, I-”
Spock leans in and presses a quick silencing kiss to his lips. He forgets to pull away afterwards, hands gently massaging the back of McCoy’s neck, easing the day’s tension.
“Shh, Leonard, I am aware.” Spock nips at his jaw softly. “I do not believe that dates such as this hold special significance. I am not upset that you did not know. I did not make a special effort to remember, either. It is merely a function of my brain.”
“But you made a meal,” McCoy grumbles unhappily.
Spock’s lips quirk up slightly. “An excuse to please you - nothing else, I assure you.”
McCoy lets out a startled laugh. “Really.”
Spock kisses him again, hot, deep, and short. “Indeed. Shall we?”
McCoy lets go and pulls up a chair for Spock gallantly. Spock gives him a slightly perplexed eyebrow, but, instead of voicing an objection, manipulates the console to engage a privacy lock on the door. A surge of pure affection overcomes McCoy, and he reaches out to ruffle Spock’s hair. Spock gives him a glare that he doesn’t mean, and McCoy laughs.
“How did this happen?” he mutters mostly to himself rather than to Spock. “When? I mean, I know we started having sex six months ago, you just said so. But when did you...” He trails off, his incredulity winning over.
Spock tenses slightly. “When did I - what, Leonard?”
McCoy breathes in and out and asks, “When did you manage to fall in love with me?”
Color spills across Spock’s face like a sunrise. He makes an effort to hold McCoy’s gaze, but eventually fails, and drops his eyes.
“I,” Spock lets out, “I do not... that is, I wished to tell you...”
“Spock...” McCoy utters, stunned. “Oh dammit, come here, you stupid green-blooded Vulcan. Come here.”
He pulls Spock out of the chair by the hand and backs him into a wall. Spock goes willingly, allowing himself to be maneuvered, but his eyes are alert, wary and searching, and he’s tense like a bowstring.
“Is the food reheatable?” McCoy asks, fumbling with Spock’s belt.
“Yes,” Spock says, and gasps as McCoy’s hand palms him roughly.
McCoy stops for a moment in favor of kissing that guarded, mildly panicked look off Spock’s face. “Good,” he murmurs against Spock’s lips. “‘Cause I give better head than you do, and I’m about to top my own record.” He smirks. “You might wanna hold onto something.”
Spock fucking shudders, hardly even touched yet, and McCoy’s smirk grows into something smug and triumphant as he sinks down to his knees.
Spock takes hold of his chin, making him look up, and okay, he wins this round, because McCoy doesn’t have an answer for him. But he will, McCoy thinks determinedly, expertly manipulating clothes and body parts. He will. He knows Spock can hear the vehement promise through the skin-to-skin contact.
Mercifully, it’s enough.