Force of habit
Title Force of habit
Fandom Star Trek TOS
Pairing Kirk/katra!McCoy, i.e. Kirk/Spock, only set during TSFS
Rating R
Words 1900
Spoilers First half of Search for Spock.
Disclaimer I do not own Star Trek.
Summmary En route to the Genesis Planet, the complications of the hosting of Spock's katra become rather evident.
Notes Feedback always makes me very happy in any form. On another note, I really can't get enough of the monster maroon!era. Also, this will be shamelessly x-posted.
Resting was no one’s first priority when one had just stolen a starship. Still, after several hours of sitting idly on the bridge, Kirk started feeling that sleep would do him good. Without noticing when it happened, he had passed from tired to exhausted.
‘I think I’ll inspect the officer’s quarters,’ he announced, standing up. ‘You have the conn, Scotty.’ The last phrase came almost without him thinking about it - there had been no need for someone to have the conn. He guessed he was running on autopilot. The way he walked up the steps, crossed the space to the turbolift and stepped inside was one his body remembered, rather than his mind. He had followed the same path in the same state after many crises, even before the refitting of the ship. Almost twenty years’ of somatic memory lead him, and he did not even reflect of the shape beside him. He had felt him approach, but at first had been so tired and so lost in old routines he had not reflected over it. Then, suddenly, he snapped back into attention and turned around. McCoy lifted his eyebrows and said:
‘Mind if I tag along?’
‘No, come,’ Kirk answered. They stepped into the turbolift and felt it descend in silence. Still there was something oppressing with the lack of sound. ‘How are you feeling?’ he tried saying, hoping it would clear the space. McCoy just shrugged and said:
‘I’m okay. What about you?’ Kirk repreated the gesture. ‘You look dead on your feet.’
‘Is that a medical opinion?’
‘Just pure common sense,’ he answered. The other man did some kind of dismissive gesture, half turning away. He did not want to be nagged at at the moment; he knew full well he might be overtaxing himself, but he could not care less. Hope flared briefly in his chest. As long as he kept himself together and did not falter, he might get Spock back. He might be able to beat the no-win scenario after all.
His thoughts were interrupted by something brushing against his sleeve. When he turned, he realised it had been McCoy’s hand.
‘Jim,’ he said in a slightly strained voice. ‘We have matters to discuss.’
‘I guess so,’ Kirk answered warily. There was something in his friend’s tone of voice which was unsettling. The turbolift stopped and the doors slid open. As he stepped out and headed for his quarters, he heard McCoy following. He did not turn around until the doors slid shut behind them. The doctor had put his hands firmly against the small of his back, straightening himself. Kirk nodded to him in a rather businesslike manner to speak.
‘I wish to apologise for the things I said,’ he said, sadness lacing the words.
‘What things, Bones?’ Kirk asked. He could not think of when the man had said something insultive. Surely he understood that Kirk knew he had not meant it when he had called Spock “that green-blooded son-of-a-bitch” earlier today? The answer, when it came, surprised him.
‘I know full well why you left me,’ McCoy said, tilting his head slightly in a most uncharacteristic way. ‘You did not know - I never spoke of it. You are not at fault here, Jim.’
Suddenly, it occurred to Kirk what was happening, and suddenly, the man had extended a hand and touched his cheek.
‘Please, Bones,’ Kirk said, backing away. ‘Stop it.’
‘Jim,’ the doctor breathed, much softer than he normally would say anything. ‘Please do not… draw away.’ Kirk, bracing himself, looked up, and at first he saw only the face of his best friend. But the way the muscles were drawn, the head held, the eyes shone, was different - alien, even. He felt himself choke on a sob as that look met his, even though the eyes which held the gaze were different. The man before him raised his hand again, touching his face. It was weeks and weeks since anyone touched him, especially with such tenderness. Although he knew he should fight it, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the touch. He lost himself in it, not even objecting when he felt warm human breath against his skin and then lips pressed against his.
Skin and lips feels different in different species, but something in that kiss - the pressure, the way the tongue slowly extended, and the answering way he opened his mouth - was achingly familiar. Hands grabbed shoulders, arms locked in an embrace, and one lead the other blindly. Barely knowing how it happened, Kirk felt himself being half thrown, half lowered down onto the bed, and then the kiss continued. Hands traced familiar patterns on his cheeks and chest, and down his legs. His own came up to meet the body above him, ignoring that the feel of the muscles and bones through the cloth was wrong and that there was only silence in his mind, the stump of the broken bond jerking helplessly. When the kiss was broken he heard himself half whisper, half moan:
‘Spock…’ Still keeping his eyes closed, afraid to disturb the semi-illusion, he felt those lips kissing his neck and then his chest, undoing the jacket to kiss his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. Blindly, Kirk grabbed a hand and started kissing it, much as one would do with the tender skin of a human’s throat. Although he heard a small gasp at it, the action did not get the enthusiastic response it usually had. He would not fool himself that much - just because the mind was Spock’s did not mean the body was, so of course he would not react to such a Vulcan thing - but still the force of habit demanded it, and also that had some bearing in this case. For the first time since the severing of the bond, he felt himself harden, vaguely discerning an answering arousal over him, so much more alike than it usually was. He did not have the courage to put his hand there yet, but he could tell that this was different from Vulcan male genitals. The other party - Kirk could not settle on a name, although Spock was the one which sprung to mind first - was not as shy, and, steadying himself on one elbow, he drew his free hand up Kirk’s leg, first on the outside, then crossing to the inside over the thigh, and touched him through his trousers. The touch made him tense and pant; he let the hand fall from his lips while his mouth was reclaimed in a kiss. Tentatively, he slid his hands over his - Spock’s - chest under the shirt, dismissing all thoughts of that this body was too cold, too sinewy, too old to be his. Instead, he tried to find the places he usually touched, not minding the obviously different anatomy. As he answered the kiss, he opened his hand, pressing it against the very lowest part of his ribcage, tracing circles with his thumb on his stomach. He moaned into Kirk’s mouth, pressed himself closer and then suddenly bolted up from the bed.
‘Oh shit,’ he heard McCoy say before he had time to raise himself. Getting precariously up on his elbows, he watched him. It was no longer Spock - McCoy’s mind was in possession of his own body again. Obviously, the state in which he found that body disturbed him. Despite the dim lights, the confusion and dismay was plain on his face as he obviously realised he had an erection. While chewing his tender lips, he inspected the blooming love-bite on his hand, much like those Spock sometimes had sported, although this one would be purpleish instead of yellowish green. Then his hand went to the fastenings of his trousers, and he sighed slightly with relief, finding them still secure. McCoy’s gaze wandered to the man on the bed, who hastily drew himself up in a sitting position, feeling that lying sprawled and aroused was not very dignified.
‘What the hell happened?’ McCoy finally managed to voice his confusion. Kirk tried to find an easy explanation.
‘Well… I think Spock took control…’
‘Goddammit, Jim, why did you let me do that?’ he said in dismay.
‘I…’ He interrupted himself, realising that he had no idea. ‘I don’t know. Sorry, Bones.’
‘Sorry?’ he repeated, sitting down heavily in a near-by chair, his gaze changing into disbelief. ‘Jim, I don’t know if you noticed, but we… for goodness’ sake, we almost had sex!’ he exclaimed.
‘I noticed - of course I did,’ Kirk said urgently while he got off the bed. His head was spinning with dwindling desire and embarrassment. ‘Were you… conscious - present - when it happened?’
‘A little of it,’ he said with reluctance, looking away. ‘But for the most part, thankfully not.’ It still seemed to bother him. ‘It gets a bit scrambled when he does that. I can’t remember anything properly since getting into the turbolift, only a few bits and pieces.’ He looked up, hesitating. ‘Did you…?’ he asked, but Kirk interrupted him quickly.
‘No, it wasn’t me - you started. Or, well, Spock.’
‘Oh, hell,’ McCoy said, burying his face in his hands. ‘I can’t wait getting him out of my head. I know far too much about your sex-life already after patching both of you up after pon farr to be drawn into it myself.’
‘I’m as embarrased as you are, if it’s any comfort,’ Kirk said, sitting down on the bed again, half turned away from him.
‘At least you don’t have a horny Vulcan in your head,’ he snorted. ‘Or have to watch. We - you - didn’t get anywhere, did you?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, thank God for that. You never know.’ They sat in silence for a few moments, during which Kirk had time to think: this is it - even if I get Spock back, I’ll loose Bones. But his thougths were interrupted. He did not understand immediately that McCoy was laughing. He turned to look at him and saw that he had lowered his hands and laughed, shaking his head.
‘What a mess,’ he said, and Kirk felt himself starting to smile and then joining into the laughter. ‘Well, I guess that’s something to tick off the list of enormously embarrassing situations,’ the doctor said jokingly. ‘It would have been worse if we had been really drunk. But, come to think of it, getting drunk wouldn’t be too bad now, for purely medical reasons. Some amnesia would suit me fine.’
‘So much for getting some rest,’ Kirk answered.
‘Oh, you go on rest,’ McCoy said, rising. ‘You just snogged your husband. I made out with my best friend without noticing it. Obviously I’m worse off.’ A snort came as an answer. ‘Just… don’t do this over my head again, okay?’
‘I’m happy to wait.’
‘Well, there’s a relief,’ he answered. ‘Get some sleep - see you in a bit.’ He gave a casual wave and left, the slide of the doors behind him announcing a strange silence. Kirk lay down on the bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes. It had been a month and even now he was not used to the silence inside his head. Still, as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he felt the hum of the engines under him, bringing him closer to the end of silence for every moment.
.
Fandom Star Trek TOS
Pairing Kirk/katra!McCoy, i.e. Kirk/Spock, only set during TSFS
Rating R
Words 1900
Spoilers First half of Search for Spock.
Disclaimer I do not own Star Trek.
Summmary En route to the Genesis Planet, the complications of the hosting of Spock's katra become rather evident.
Notes Feedback always makes me very happy in any form. On another note, I really can't get enough of the monster maroon!era. Also, this will be shamelessly x-posted.
Resting was no one’s first priority when one had just stolen a starship. Still, after several hours of sitting idly on the bridge, Kirk started feeling that sleep would do him good. Without noticing when it happened, he had passed from tired to exhausted.
‘I think I’ll inspect the officer’s quarters,’ he announced, standing up. ‘You have the conn, Scotty.’ The last phrase came almost without him thinking about it - there had been no need for someone to have the conn. He guessed he was running on autopilot. The way he walked up the steps, crossed the space to the turbolift and stepped inside was one his body remembered, rather than his mind. He had followed the same path in the same state after many crises, even before the refitting of the ship. Almost twenty years’ of somatic memory lead him, and he did not even reflect of the shape beside him. He had felt him approach, but at first had been so tired and so lost in old routines he had not reflected over it. Then, suddenly, he snapped back into attention and turned around. McCoy lifted his eyebrows and said:
‘Mind if I tag along?’
‘No, come,’ Kirk answered. They stepped into the turbolift and felt it descend in silence. Still there was something oppressing with the lack of sound. ‘How are you feeling?’ he tried saying, hoping it would clear the space. McCoy just shrugged and said:
‘I’m okay. What about you?’ Kirk repreated the gesture. ‘You look dead on your feet.’
‘Is that a medical opinion?’
‘Just pure common sense,’ he answered. The other man did some kind of dismissive gesture, half turning away. He did not want to be nagged at at the moment; he knew full well he might be overtaxing himself, but he could not care less. Hope flared briefly in his chest. As long as he kept himself together and did not falter, he might get Spock back. He might be able to beat the no-win scenario after all.
His thoughts were interrupted by something brushing against his sleeve. When he turned, he realised it had been McCoy’s hand.
‘Jim,’ he said in a slightly strained voice. ‘We have matters to discuss.’
‘I guess so,’ Kirk answered warily. There was something in his friend’s tone of voice which was unsettling. The turbolift stopped and the doors slid open. As he stepped out and headed for his quarters, he heard McCoy following. He did not turn around until the doors slid shut behind them. The doctor had put his hands firmly against the small of his back, straightening himself. Kirk nodded to him in a rather businesslike manner to speak.
‘I wish to apologise for the things I said,’ he said, sadness lacing the words.
‘What things, Bones?’ Kirk asked. He could not think of when the man had said something insultive. Surely he understood that Kirk knew he had not meant it when he had called Spock “that green-blooded son-of-a-bitch” earlier today? The answer, when it came, surprised him.
‘I know full well why you left me,’ McCoy said, tilting his head slightly in a most uncharacteristic way. ‘You did not know - I never spoke of it. You are not at fault here, Jim.’
Suddenly, it occurred to Kirk what was happening, and suddenly, the man had extended a hand and touched his cheek.
‘Please, Bones,’ Kirk said, backing away. ‘Stop it.’
‘Jim,’ the doctor breathed, much softer than he normally would say anything. ‘Please do not… draw away.’ Kirk, bracing himself, looked up, and at first he saw only the face of his best friend. But the way the muscles were drawn, the head held, the eyes shone, was different - alien, even. He felt himself choke on a sob as that look met his, even though the eyes which held the gaze were different. The man before him raised his hand again, touching his face. It was weeks and weeks since anyone touched him, especially with such tenderness. Although he knew he should fight it, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the touch. He lost himself in it, not even objecting when he felt warm human breath against his skin and then lips pressed against his.
Skin and lips feels different in different species, but something in that kiss - the pressure, the way the tongue slowly extended, and the answering way he opened his mouth - was achingly familiar. Hands grabbed shoulders, arms locked in an embrace, and one lead the other blindly. Barely knowing how it happened, Kirk felt himself being half thrown, half lowered down onto the bed, and then the kiss continued. Hands traced familiar patterns on his cheeks and chest, and down his legs. His own came up to meet the body above him, ignoring that the feel of the muscles and bones through the cloth was wrong and that there was only silence in his mind, the stump of the broken bond jerking helplessly. When the kiss was broken he heard himself half whisper, half moan:
‘Spock…’ Still keeping his eyes closed, afraid to disturb the semi-illusion, he felt those lips kissing his neck and then his chest, undoing the jacket to kiss his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. Blindly, Kirk grabbed a hand and started kissing it, much as one would do with the tender skin of a human’s throat. Although he heard a small gasp at it, the action did not get the enthusiastic response it usually had. He would not fool himself that much - just because the mind was Spock’s did not mean the body was, so of course he would not react to such a Vulcan thing - but still the force of habit demanded it, and also that had some bearing in this case. For the first time since the severing of the bond, he felt himself harden, vaguely discerning an answering arousal over him, so much more alike than it usually was. He did not have the courage to put his hand there yet, but he could tell that this was different from Vulcan male genitals. The other party - Kirk could not settle on a name, although Spock was the one which sprung to mind first - was not as shy, and, steadying himself on one elbow, he drew his free hand up Kirk’s leg, first on the outside, then crossing to the inside over the thigh, and touched him through his trousers. The touch made him tense and pant; he let the hand fall from his lips while his mouth was reclaimed in a kiss. Tentatively, he slid his hands over his - Spock’s - chest under the shirt, dismissing all thoughts of that this body was too cold, too sinewy, too old to be his. Instead, he tried to find the places he usually touched, not minding the obviously different anatomy. As he answered the kiss, he opened his hand, pressing it against the very lowest part of his ribcage, tracing circles with his thumb on his stomach. He moaned into Kirk’s mouth, pressed himself closer and then suddenly bolted up from the bed.
‘Oh shit,’ he heard McCoy say before he had time to raise himself. Getting precariously up on his elbows, he watched him. It was no longer Spock - McCoy’s mind was in possession of his own body again. Obviously, the state in which he found that body disturbed him. Despite the dim lights, the confusion and dismay was plain on his face as he obviously realised he had an erection. While chewing his tender lips, he inspected the blooming love-bite on his hand, much like those Spock sometimes had sported, although this one would be purpleish instead of yellowish green. Then his hand went to the fastenings of his trousers, and he sighed slightly with relief, finding them still secure. McCoy’s gaze wandered to the man on the bed, who hastily drew himself up in a sitting position, feeling that lying sprawled and aroused was not very dignified.
‘What the hell happened?’ McCoy finally managed to voice his confusion. Kirk tried to find an easy explanation.
‘Well… I think Spock took control…’
‘Goddammit, Jim, why did you let me do that?’ he said in dismay.
‘I…’ He interrupted himself, realising that he had no idea. ‘I don’t know. Sorry, Bones.’
‘Sorry?’ he repeated, sitting down heavily in a near-by chair, his gaze changing into disbelief. ‘Jim, I don’t know if you noticed, but we… for goodness’ sake, we almost had sex!’ he exclaimed.
‘I noticed - of course I did,’ Kirk said urgently while he got off the bed. His head was spinning with dwindling desire and embarrassment. ‘Were you… conscious - present - when it happened?’
‘A little of it,’ he said with reluctance, looking away. ‘But for the most part, thankfully not.’ It still seemed to bother him. ‘It gets a bit scrambled when he does that. I can’t remember anything properly since getting into the turbolift, only a few bits and pieces.’ He looked up, hesitating. ‘Did you…?’ he asked, but Kirk interrupted him quickly.
‘No, it wasn’t me - you started. Or, well, Spock.’
‘Oh, hell,’ McCoy said, burying his face in his hands. ‘I can’t wait getting him out of my head. I know far too much about your sex-life already after patching both of you up after pon farr to be drawn into it myself.’
‘I’m as embarrased as you are, if it’s any comfort,’ Kirk said, sitting down on the bed again, half turned away from him.
‘At least you don’t have a horny Vulcan in your head,’ he snorted. ‘Or have to watch. We - you - didn’t get anywhere, did you?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, thank God for that. You never know.’ They sat in silence for a few moments, during which Kirk had time to think: this is it - even if I get Spock back, I’ll loose Bones. But his thougths were interrupted. He did not understand immediately that McCoy was laughing. He turned to look at him and saw that he had lowered his hands and laughed, shaking his head.
‘What a mess,’ he said, and Kirk felt himself starting to smile and then joining into the laughter. ‘Well, I guess that’s something to tick off the list of enormously embarrassing situations,’ the doctor said jokingly. ‘It would have been worse if we had been really drunk. But, come to think of it, getting drunk wouldn’t be too bad now, for purely medical reasons. Some amnesia would suit me fine.’
‘So much for getting some rest,’ Kirk answered.
‘Oh, you go on rest,’ McCoy said, rising. ‘You just snogged your husband. I made out with my best friend without noticing it. Obviously I’m worse off.’ A snort came as an answer. ‘Just… don’t do this over my head again, okay?’
‘I’m happy to wait.’
‘Well, there’s a relief,’ he answered. ‘Get some sleep - see you in a bit.’ He gave a casual wave and left, the slide of the doors behind him announcing a strange silence. Kirk lay down on the bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes. It had been a month and even now he was not used to the silence inside his head. Still, as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he felt the hum of the engines under him, bringing him closer to the end of silence for every moment.
.