A Spark of Heavenly Fire (Part 2)
Title: A Spark of Heavenly Fire
Author:
ladyblahblah
Beta:
ninjaboots
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own my own car. It's very sad. Nothing but the plot and OCs are mine, I'm making no money from this, please don't sue me.
Summary: A transporter incident results in genderswapped!Jim. He reacts . . . pretty much like you'd expect.
Author's Note: So, um. Guys, I'm not even going to pretend this is anything other than gratuitous girl!wanking porn. You're welcome. -_-
Day 16
Jim scowls, hands braced on her hips. Her jaw is clenched against the frustration trying to swamp her, and her breath comes out through gritted teeth.
“Is there a problem, Captain?”
Speaking of frustration.
Spock is dressed all in black, in loose pants and a close-fitting shirt that he claims are in keeping with his Vulcan warrior heritage. Jim suspects, though-and has for some time-that Spock's wardrobe choice for the gym has less to do with cultural tradition and more to do with him knowing that it makes him look almost unbearably sexy. Jim's eyes flick quickly up and down his body, taking in long limbs and lean muscles and fucking hell, Jim wants to climb him like a tree.
“I'm not making as much progress as I'd hoped,” is all she says, though, turning her attention back to the mats. “I've been drilling after every shift for almost two full weeks, and I still haven't been able to pass my hand-to-hand re-qualification.”
“Is it vital that you do so?” Spock steps forward and Jim's mouth nearly starts to water. She can smell him, which is ridiculous because Spock isn't even sweating as far as she can see, but there it is. Jim swallows heavily before she can actually start to drool. “According to the projections that Mr. Scott and I have put together, we may have you returned to your original sex in as little as six months. It is unlikely that you have need to physically defend yourself in that time.”
“As little as,” Jim mutters, rolling her eyes. “First of all, six months in a different body isn't a little span. Don't get me wrong, it's not all bad; but it's hardly been a walk in the park so far, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.” She shakes her head. “And what if you can't? Projections are all well and good, but last I checked you still weren't even entirely sure this treatment you're devising is even going to work.”
“No scientific process is ever a hundred percent ensured of success,” Spock begins to hedge, but Jim cuts him off with a jerk of one irritatingly delicate hand.
“Look, the point is, none of us really know if this is going to be temporary, after all, and it would hardly be responsible of me to pretend that I am. Which means that until we find out for sure, I'm going to assume that it's not. That means getting myself back to where I was before all this happened. Besides.” She rolls her shoulders. “I may have the center seat back, but I'm still not cleared for away missions until I get my combat readiness back up to par.”
“I see.” Spock, damn his gorgeous eyes, looks almost amused now, and Jim smiles despite herself.
“Look, you know I love this ship, but that doesn't mean I want to be stuck on her all the damn time. Exploring new worlds was supposed to be part of the package deal.” She eyes Spock again, speculatively this time. “You know, it'd help if I had someone to spar with. Going through the motions on my own certainly doesn't seem to be doing much good.”
Spock hesitates. “I am not certain that would be wise,” he says at last, and Jim scowls.
“Don't tell me you're pulling some kind of ridiculous sexist crap here, Spock.”
“I do not believe so,” Spock replies with an arch of his eyebrow. “However, it has been some time since I have sparred with anyone at a significantly lower skill level than myself.”
“Significantly lower skill level?” Jim repeats dangerously.
“I would not wish to injure you.”
“Oh, that is it,” Jim snarls, her eyes narrowing as she drops into a crouch. “I'm gonna have to kick your ass now.”
Spock moves into a similar stance, something perilously close to a smirk tugging at his lips. “By all means, captain, I invite you to try.”
Jim strikes out first, and unsurprisingly finds herself hampered by her new body. She misjudges her own reach and overextends to compensate, sending her perilously off-balance. Even properly supported, her chest sticks out far more than she's used to; it's still catching her off-guard, and interfering with her swings. Spock dodges the blow with almost insulting ease, and doesn't even deign to strike back.
“My apologies,” he says smugly. “Have you changed your mind about sparring after all?”
Jim glares so hard she's surprised Spock doesn't simply burst into flames, but her mind is already realigning itself. Something about the familiarity of readying herself to spar with Spock has made realization strike. She's been trying to fight with the same style and moves she's used to, which she shouldn't have ever expected to work, really. That's obvious. Jim has never been one to get bogged down in repetitive strategy before; no need for that to change just because her body has.
Her next move is careful, testing; Spock easily blocks, but connecting isn't the point anymore. She shifts to the left and tries again, paying attention to her body and how it moves. She doesn't have as much power as she's used to, but she's lighter on her feet and what she does have now is speed. Without giving herself time to over-think it, she lets instinct take over and darts swiftly inside Spock's guard, managing a glancing blow to a vulnerable ear. It's one of the few weak points she's been able to ferret out in their two years of sparring together, and she has the satisfaction of seeing the wince of pain Spock can't quite conceal before his eyes narrow.
“Still find this amusing?” she asks sweetly, already starting to circle again.
“That would be a highly illogical response.”
Spock is tracking her movements, lashing out after a moment with what she realizes almost too late is a feint. Though she dodges the real strike, it throws her off-balance long enough for Spock to back away far enough for his reach to be an advantage again. They're going at each other in earnest now, Jim targeting every vulnerable spot that he can think of as she all but dances out of the way of Spock's heavier blows. But though she's been trained in hand-to-hand with someone larger and stronger, most of the moves she's always favored require more brute force than she has at her disposal now, and she can't manage any appreciable damage. Already tired from her workout before Spock arrived, it isn't long before she's a hair too slow to avoid the sweeping kick that sends her feet out from under her. The impact with the mats drives the air from her lungs long enough for Spock to drop as well, large hands engulfing her wrists as he pins her down.
Jim's breath clogs in her throat as competitiveness turns to arousal in the space of a heartbeat. Looming over her, pinning her body with his, it fully hits her just how much larger Spock really is now. He feels enormous and heavy on top of her, and while Jim has never considered herself the delicate-flower type, she certainly feels like one now. She tries to shift, seeking some sort of release for the pressure that's building inside of her, but she's being held too firmly, and the vulnerability of her position has heat blooming between her thighs.
“So I still have a ways to go. Still,” she grins breathlessly, her eyes dropping to Spock's mouth. “Progress.”
“Indeed.” Spock's voice is a low rumble that makes her want to arch up into him, but she manages to stifle the urge and lift a quizzical eyebrow instead.
“Planning on letting me up anytime soon, Spock?”
“My apologies.” Spock releases her wrists and rises to his feet in a surge of grace that Jim can't help but envy as she manages an ungainly scramble to her own. “It is still occasionally . . . extraordinary, seeing you in this form. I'm afraid I was momentarily distracted.”
“No problem.” Jim rolls her shoulders, trying to ignore how achingly empty she suddenly feels. There's a faint trace of green on Spock's cheekbones; she bites back the urge to trace the spot with her fingertips. “Ah. I'd probably better hit the showers.”
“An excellent suggestion. I imagine the rest of Gamma shift will be most appreciative if I do the same.”
“Probably so,” Jim manages to chuckle. “I'll see you in the morning, Mr. Spock.”
She double-times it back to her quarters, barely taking the time to acknowledge her crew as she passes. The heat that's rising in her is nothing new; this will hardly be the first time she's had to get herself off after one of these sparring sessions. But Bones's warning two weeks ago about an unfamiliar mix of hormones apparently wasn't just his usual brand of over-caution. Jim can't remember the last time she felt this desperate from such innocent contact, and she knows that if she could've moved at the time she might very well have spread her legs for Spock right then and there, and do hell with anyone who might be watching. Now, with the mental image of Spock stripping down for the showers refusing to leave her thoughts, lust is gnawing at her like hunger, and she needs . . . she needs . . . she just needs.
Jim doesn't indulge in the captain's privilege of an actual water shower very often, but every so often there are times that sonics just won't do. She turns the water on hot as she strips out of her sweaty clothes, and for a moment when she steps under the spray she simply enjoys the feeling of the sweat and grime on her skin being rinsed away. Her mind circles quickly back to the feel of Spock pressing her down, the gentle yield of the mat beneath her, and Jim's hand slips quickly down between her legs.
The first time she'd tried this she'd been briefly afraid that her brain might actually short out. She hadn't even been able to imagine before what it would feel like, her fingers rubbing teasingly over her clit; the force of the pleasure it brought had left her gasping and biting at her lip, trying to keep quiet so that Spock wouldn't hear her through the door that separated his quarters from the head. He's not there now, though, and she's in no mood for teasing. She pushes through her curls to where she's already throbbing, fingers moving immediately in hard, tight circles.
Jim leans against the tiled wall, chest heaving as she imagines doing as she'd wanted in the gym and opening her legs wide for Spock to settle between them. Her hand moves faster, and she wonders how it would feel to have Spock's hand on her instead, his palm cupping her as those long, elegant fingers rub and press and squeeze as she's doing now. She wonders how it would be, if he'd be gentle or rough, coolly controlled or as wild as he'd been the only other time Jim had seen him give in to his passion. She imagines him holding her down as he had earlier, hips moving in long, hard thrusts as he pounds into her; her other hand lifts to tug hard at her nipple and she's coming, letting out a high, keening cry as she shudders out her release.
Her legs feel weak and shaky as she finishes up her shower, washing up as quickly as she can. She shuts off the water and grabs her towel to rub herself briskly dry. As she does, however, the material grazes over her nipples, and she chokes out a helpless moan as they immediately harden again. Her breath is already growing shallow, the heat between her legs swiftly building. She hasn't felt this helplessly horny since she was a teenager, jerking off three times a day just to stay sane. She wants to come again; needs to with a ferocity that catches her off guard. It's a deep, insistent ache, one that she's completely unprepared to fight.
Ten minutes later she's stretched out on her bed, naked and panting, one hand teasing her nipples and the other buried between her legs. Her back is arching, hips moving frantically as she rides the three fingers she's shoved inside while her thumb rubs hard against her clit. Jim can't get enough; she has to have more; she pulls her left leg towards her chest so that her fingers can slide deeper. She's soaking wet, hand slicked to the wrist from the moisture pouring out of her, and she can imagine how she looks like this: spread open, fucking herself onto her own fingers as she moans like she's being paid for it. She thinks of Spock again, then, of what might happen if he were to walk in and see her like this, and the thought is enough to push her over the edge. Her muscles spasm tightly around her fingers, setting off a series of aftershocks that leave her dazed and boneless, and she stares up at the ceiling of her quarters as she tries to remember how to think.
Sated as she is, she can already feel that it's only temporary. That raw, insistent hunger is lurking beneath the blissful haze of endorphins; Jim wonders, in a dazed, detached sort of way, if she's ever going to get to the paperwork she'd planned to tackle tonight.
Probably not, she thinks, and settles back to enjoy the afterglow while it lasts.
Author:
ladyblahblah
Beta:
ninjaboots
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own my own car. It's very sad. Nothing but the plot and OCs are mine, I'm making no money from this, please don't sue me.
Summary: A transporter incident results in genderswapped!Jim. He reacts . . . pretty much like you'd expect.
Author's Note: So, um. Guys, I'm not even going to pretend this is anything other than gratuitous girl!wanking porn. You're welcome. -_-
Day 16
Jim scowls, hands braced on her hips. Her jaw is clenched against the frustration trying to swamp her, and her breath comes out through gritted teeth.
“Is there a problem, Captain?”
Speaking of frustration.
Spock is dressed all in black, in loose pants and a close-fitting shirt that he claims are in keeping with his Vulcan warrior heritage. Jim suspects, though-and has for some time-that Spock's wardrobe choice for the gym has less to do with cultural tradition and more to do with him knowing that it makes him look almost unbearably sexy. Jim's eyes flick quickly up and down his body, taking in long limbs and lean muscles and fucking hell, Jim wants to climb him like a tree.
“I'm not making as much progress as I'd hoped,” is all she says, though, turning her attention back to the mats. “I've been drilling after every shift for almost two full weeks, and I still haven't been able to pass my hand-to-hand re-qualification.”
“Is it vital that you do so?” Spock steps forward and Jim's mouth nearly starts to water. She can smell him, which is ridiculous because Spock isn't even sweating as far as she can see, but there it is. Jim swallows heavily before she can actually start to drool. “According to the projections that Mr. Scott and I have put together, we may have you returned to your original sex in as little as six months. It is unlikely that you have need to physically defend yourself in that time.”
“As little as,” Jim mutters, rolling her eyes. “First of all, six months in a different body isn't a little span. Don't get me wrong, it's not all bad; but it's hardly been a walk in the park so far, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.” She shakes her head. “And what if you can't? Projections are all well and good, but last I checked you still weren't even entirely sure this treatment you're devising is even going to work.”
“No scientific process is ever a hundred percent ensured of success,” Spock begins to hedge, but Jim cuts him off with a jerk of one irritatingly delicate hand.
“Look, the point is, none of us really know if this is going to be temporary, after all, and it would hardly be responsible of me to pretend that I am. Which means that until we find out for sure, I'm going to assume that it's not. That means getting myself back to where I was before all this happened. Besides.” She rolls her shoulders. “I may have the center seat back, but I'm still not cleared for away missions until I get my combat readiness back up to par.”
“I see.” Spock, damn his gorgeous eyes, looks almost amused now, and Jim smiles despite herself.
“Look, you know I love this ship, but that doesn't mean I want to be stuck on her all the damn time. Exploring new worlds was supposed to be part of the package deal.” She eyes Spock again, speculatively this time. “You know, it'd help if I had someone to spar with. Going through the motions on my own certainly doesn't seem to be doing much good.”
Spock hesitates. “I am not certain that would be wise,” he says at last, and Jim scowls.
“Don't tell me you're pulling some kind of ridiculous sexist crap here, Spock.”
“I do not believe so,” Spock replies with an arch of his eyebrow. “However, it has been some time since I have sparred with anyone at a significantly lower skill level than myself.”
“Significantly lower skill level?” Jim repeats dangerously.
“I would not wish to injure you.”
“Oh, that is it,” Jim snarls, her eyes narrowing as she drops into a crouch. “I'm gonna have to kick your ass now.”
Spock moves into a similar stance, something perilously close to a smirk tugging at his lips. “By all means, captain, I invite you to try.”
Jim strikes out first, and unsurprisingly finds herself hampered by her new body. She misjudges her own reach and overextends to compensate, sending her perilously off-balance. Even properly supported, her chest sticks out far more than she's used to; it's still catching her off-guard, and interfering with her swings. Spock dodges the blow with almost insulting ease, and doesn't even deign to strike back.
“My apologies,” he says smugly. “Have you changed your mind about sparring after all?”
Jim glares so hard she's surprised Spock doesn't simply burst into flames, but her mind is already realigning itself. Something about the familiarity of readying herself to spar with Spock has made realization strike. She's been trying to fight with the same style and moves she's used to, which she shouldn't have ever expected to work, really. That's obvious. Jim has never been one to get bogged down in repetitive strategy before; no need for that to change just because her body has.
Her next move is careful, testing; Spock easily blocks, but connecting isn't the point anymore. She shifts to the left and tries again, paying attention to her body and how it moves. She doesn't have as much power as she's used to, but she's lighter on her feet and what she does have now is speed. Without giving herself time to over-think it, she lets instinct take over and darts swiftly inside Spock's guard, managing a glancing blow to a vulnerable ear. It's one of the few weak points she's been able to ferret out in their two years of sparring together, and she has the satisfaction of seeing the wince of pain Spock can't quite conceal before his eyes narrow.
“Still find this amusing?” she asks sweetly, already starting to circle again.
“That would be a highly illogical response.”
Spock is tracking her movements, lashing out after a moment with what she realizes almost too late is a feint. Though she dodges the real strike, it throws her off-balance long enough for Spock to back away far enough for his reach to be an advantage again. They're going at each other in earnest now, Jim targeting every vulnerable spot that he can think of as she all but dances out of the way of Spock's heavier blows. But though she's been trained in hand-to-hand with someone larger and stronger, most of the moves she's always favored require more brute force than she has at her disposal now, and she can't manage any appreciable damage. Already tired from her workout before Spock arrived, it isn't long before she's a hair too slow to avoid the sweeping kick that sends her feet out from under her. The impact with the mats drives the air from her lungs long enough for Spock to drop as well, large hands engulfing her wrists as he pins her down.
Jim's breath clogs in her throat as competitiveness turns to arousal in the space of a heartbeat. Looming over her, pinning her body with his, it fully hits her just how much larger Spock really is now. He feels enormous and heavy on top of her, and while Jim has never considered herself the delicate-flower type, she certainly feels like one now. She tries to shift, seeking some sort of release for the pressure that's building inside of her, but she's being held too firmly, and the vulnerability of her position has heat blooming between her thighs.
“So I still have a ways to go. Still,” she grins breathlessly, her eyes dropping to Spock's mouth. “Progress.”
“Indeed.” Spock's voice is a low rumble that makes her want to arch up into him, but she manages to stifle the urge and lift a quizzical eyebrow instead.
“Planning on letting me up anytime soon, Spock?”
“My apologies.” Spock releases her wrists and rises to his feet in a surge of grace that Jim can't help but envy as she manages an ungainly scramble to her own. “It is still occasionally . . . extraordinary, seeing you in this form. I'm afraid I was momentarily distracted.”
“No problem.” Jim rolls her shoulders, trying to ignore how achingly empty she suddenly feels. There's a faint trace of green on Spock's cheekbones; she bites back the urge to trace the spot with her fingertips. “Ah. I'd probably better hit the showers.”
“An excellent suggestion. I imagine the rest of Gamma shift will be most appreciative if I do the same.”
“Probably so,” Jim manages to chuckle. “I'll see you in the morning, Mr. Spock.”
She double-times it back to her quarters, barely taking the time to acknowledge her crew as she passes. The heat that's rising in her is nothing new; this will hardly be the first time she's had to get herself off after one of these sparring sessions. But Bones's warning two weeks ago about an unfamiliar mix of hormones apparently wasn't just his usual brand of over-caution. Jim can't remember the last time she felt this desperate from such innocent contact, and she knows that if she could've moved at the time she might very well have spread her legs for Spock right then and there, and do hell with anyone who might be watching. Now, with the mental image of Spock stripping down for the showers refusing to leave her thoughts, lust is gnawing at her like hunger, and she needs . . . she needs . . . she just needs.
Jim doesn't indulge in the captain's privilege of an actual water shower very often, but every so often there are times that sonics just won't do. She turns the water on hot as she strips out of her sweaty clothes, and for a moment when she steps under the spray she simply enjoys the feeling of the sweat and grime on her skin being rinsed away. Her mind circles quickly back to the feel of Spock pressing her down, the gentle yield of the mat beneath her, and Jim's hand slips quickly down between her legs.
The first time she'd tried this she'd been briefly afraid that her brain might actually short out. She hadn't even been able to imagine before what it would feel like, her fingers rubbing teasingly over her clit; the force of the pleasure it brought had left her gasping and biting at her lip, trying to keep quiet so that Spock wouldn't hear her through the door that separated his quarters from the head. He's not there now, though, and she's in no mood for teasing. She pushes through her curls to where she's already throbbing, fingers moving immediately in hard, tight circles.
Jim leans against the tiled wall, chest heaving as she imagines doing as she'd wanted in the gym and opening her legs wide for Spock to settle between them. Her hand moves faster, and she wonders how it would feel to have Spock's hand on her instead, his palm cupping her as those long, elegant fingers rub and press and squeeze as she's doing now. She wonders how it would be, if he'd be gentle or rough, coolly controlled or as wild as he'd been the only other time Jim had seen him give in to his passion. She imagines him holding her down as he had earlier, hips moving in long, hard thrusts as he pounds into her; her other hand lifts to tug hard at her nipple and she's coming, letting out a high, keening cry as she shudders out her release.
Her legs feel weak and shaky as she finishes up her shower, washing up as quickly as she can. She shuts off the water and grabs her towel to rub herself briskly dry. As she does, however, the material grazes over her nipples, and she chokes out a helpless moan as they immediately harden again. Her breath is already growing shallow, the heat between her legs swiftly building. She hasn't felt this helplessly horny since she was a teenager, jerking off three times a day just to stay sane. She wants to come again; needs to with a ferocity that catches her off guard. It's a deep, insistent ache, one that she's completely unprepared to fight.
Ten minutes later she's stretched out on her bed, naked and panting, one hand teasing her nipples and the other buried between her legs. Her back is arching, hips moving frantically as she rides the three fingers she's shoved inside while her thumb rubs hard against her clit. Jim can't get enough; she has to have more; she pulls her left leg towards her chest so that her fingers can slide deeper. She's soaking wet, hand slicked to the wrist from the moisture pouring out of her, and she can imagine how she looks like this: spread open, fucking herself onto her own fingers as she moans like she's being paid for it. She thinks of Spock again, then, of what might happen if he were to walk in and see her like this, and the thought is enough to push her over the edge. Her muscles spasm tightly around her fingers, setting off a series of aftershocks that leave her dazed and boneless, and she stares up at the ceiling of her quarters as she tries to remember how to think.
Sated as she is, she can already feel that it's only temporary. That raw, insistent hunger is lurking beneath the blissful haze of endorphins; Jim wonders, in a dazed, detached sort of way, if she's ever going to get to the paperwork she'd planned to tackle tonight.
Probably not, she thinks, and settles back to enjoy the afterglow while it lasts.