Saudade | STXI | NC-17 | 8/9
8.
“Spock?” A feminine voice came from behind the door, followed by a knock.
Jim jerked from sleep with a snort. He squinted against the bright afternoon light and gravitated towards the nearest warm body.
Spock had sat up in bed, his hair rumpled and his eyes alert. He spoke clearly and shifted to move from the bed. “I am here, Aunt Anna.”
Jim flipped and rolled until his head rested upon Spock’s lap. He looked up at Spock’s consternate expression and offered a sleepy smile.
Aunt Anna’s voice filtered into the room. “It’s almost noon, Spock. Are you all right?”
Spock pushed at the side of Jim’s head in attempts to dislodge him from his lap, but Jim stifled a laugh and lurched up. Spock sent him a silent look of admonishment before shifting forward to stand. “I assure you that I am well.”
“Well, if you say so.”
Of course, Jim wouldn’t have any of that. He pressed his chest against Spock’s back and slung his arms around his neck. Spock promptly flopped backwards and sat on the bed, his hands snapping to Jim’s in attempts to pry him away. Jim pointedly ignored him and hummed softly while placing a kiss behind Spock’s ear.
“I ahmm.” Spock’s assurance was slurred as Jim’s fingers slid down his torso to swirl in his happy-trail. Jim muffled another laugh against Spock’s shoulder.
Aunt Anna had apparently not left yet. “Is something going on in there?”
“No. My previous night’s rest proved insufficient and I have woken late. Please excuse my absence this morning.”
Spock whipped his hand over his shoulder to lightly slap Jim on the nose like a bad puppy. Jim nipped at his fingers.
There was a significant pause at the door and then the sound of retreating footsteps. Spock angled a glower at Jim.
Jim beamed. “Um, good morning?”
“You are highly distracting.”
“Oh? Then you won’t be surprised if I...” Jim’s fingers snuck beneath the sheets pooled at Spock’s waist and fluttered over his cock. Spock hissed breath, and Jim smirked triumphantly against the nape of Spock’s neck.
Before Jim could fully comprehend Spock’s intent, he was flat on the mattress with an intense Vulcan on top of him. His heart hammered once, hard against his ribcage, as if it simply wanted to tear from his chest and lay in Spock’s palms.
The imagery was terrifying and painful - and fuck, Jim wanted it.
No one looked at him like this. Like Spock wanted all of him - bruises included. Jim didn’t know why, but there it was. He wasn’t about the walk away from the one good thing in his life right now. Hell, maybe the only good thing he would experience if he didn’t live long enough to enjoy all that the galaxy had to offer.
Jim knew he should safeguard himself. He knew this would eventually lead to regrets and heartache and a consequent drinking binge that might just rival Frank’s alcohol tolerance levels.
But - fuck it. There would only be one Spock. There would only be this one summer. And this wouldn’t last forever.
Jim’s heart constricted painfully in his chest, but he smiled anyway. He reached up and swept his thumb along the severe incline of one eyebrow.
Only one Spock - who was pinning Jim to the mattress with the hard lines of his body and that fathomless black stare. Jim raised his eyebrows expectantly, with his grin growing cocky.
“Are you trying to intimidate me? Because it’s only giving me a hard-on.”
Spock gave the desired reaction - he huffed with exasperation and placed a silencing kiss on Jim’s waiting lips. They melted into each other for a moment, and Jim could pretend he was normal and this was normal.
When Spock propped up on his elbows to peer down at Jim, his cheeks were flushed like spring grass.
“Depart by window and knock at the front door.”
Jim blinked. “Say what, Shakespeare?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You do not accept my invitation to lunch?”
Jim floundered for a reply. “Ah - yes. Sure. Okay.”
They stared at each other for a couple seconds, and Jim couldn’t help but cant his hips and press his interested dick against Spock’s thigh.
Spock’s eyes darkened, but he calmly said, “Leave my room now, Jim.”
“Who are you, the captain?” Jim said good-naturedly.
He rolled out from under Spock anyway and set about collecting his discarded clothes. Jim yanked on his boxers and jeans, hopping on one foot as he watched Spock dress from the corner of his eye. Every movement was fluid and purposeful.
Jim’s head got stuck in his shirt.
Spock came over and efficiently tugged it down. Their eyes met and held - Jim was the one to look down and away in search of his sneakers.
The events of the previous night were smeared and unclear now. Like a grotesque painting that someone had streaked their hand across while the colour was still damp. Some moments were still clear and vibrant, while others bled to obscurity. That canvas had been painted over dozens of times, and with each past incident of violence the picture only slightly varied.
Of course, with the circumstance of last night there had been a significant difference in the composition. Spock.
Jim shook off his recollection of the previous evening. No point in dwelling or analysing. He wouldn’t even allow himself to linger on Spock’s volatile reaction to Frank and the way he’d rushed to the rescue. He’d acted as if Jim had meant something - as if he belonged to Spock.
His delusions were too optimistic, even for Jim.
Especially for Jim.
Still...
“Thanks for, uh,” Jim paused, awkwardly turning words on his tongue. “Everything. Last night - it was -”
Spock was standing there, just patiently looking at him. So perfect and complete and really fucking naïve for all his intellect.
Jim didn’t know what to do with someone like that. Someone real and true. Jim was oftentimes frank and blunt, but not honest like Spock was.
“Yeah,” Jim finished lamely. He felt like an idiot for even attempting to say anything genuinely heartfelt.
So he grinned like he didn’t care. He saluted Spock, turned and scrambled out of the window. The minute his feet hit the dusty earth, he didn’t look back - just meandered around to the front of the house with hands shoved in his pockets.
“Hello.”
Jim startled. He would recognise that cultured, inflectionless tone anywhere. He turned and regarded T’Pring. This was only the second time he’d encountered the stunning Vulcan, and her striking visage propelled Jim back an awful three days.
“Uh, hi. I was just coming to visit.”
T’Pring’s slim hands emerged from their long bell sleeves and folded before her. “Correct my assumption if I am in error, but it appears as if you have already visited and are now departing.”
“No, I was just about to knock. Spock invited me over for lunch.”
Today her eyes were the colour of sand, merciless and scorching in their intensity. “I see.”
Jim was sure they both saw the same thing. But he refused to shift awkwardly. Instead he purposely slouched and looked around, bored with the conversation.
T’Pring regarded him like a statue. “James Kirk, what are you intentions with my betrothed?”
“Sorry - what?”
Jim wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected that. T’Pring didn’t seem like the type to play coy.
Her eyebrows raised a fraction. “Are you apologising for something?”
“I - ah, no, I’m not.” Jim folded his arms across his chest and took a step towards T’Pring. Fuck, she was nearly as tall as Spock. So annoying. “Spock and I are friends, all right? We don’t need you to monitor our relationship.”
“I am not monitoring. I have simply heard that you spend an inordinate amount of time with Spock.”
“How about he spends a lot of time with me? Has it occurred to you that he might like me?”
T’Pring didn’t even nod. “It has. Hence my line of inquiry.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, to answer your question - I don’t have any intentions. I’m just having fun, and so is Spock.” He turned to leave.
“And by ‘fun’, you infer coitus.”
Oh my God.
Jim turned and couldn’t help but gawk at T’Pring’s stone-cold expression. Technically they hadn’t had sex. A mutual hand-job and a blow-job that made Jim see colours did not coitus make. “And what if I do?”
“You are aware that Vulcans do not take physical relationships lightly. Or as you say, ‘for fun’.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
They hadn’t really discussed it or anything. It just kind of happened - like breathing. Jim didn’t know any other way to be around Spock.
Something flitted across T’Pring’s features, but it was too muted to comprehend. “Then logically you are aware that what you are doing is morally and ethically wrong by Vulcan social standards.”
“What? No, I -”
“And you are conscious that by nurturing an intimate rapport with my betrothed, you are condemning him to future mental duress and almost definite ridicule should his situation be unearthed. He will be definitively shunned and shamed in name and position. ”
“Fuck, no. I wouldn’t do that on purp-”
Each word projected from T’Pring’s lips were like bee stings. “And if you are mindful of these inevitabilities, you must logically have come to the conclusion that your presence in Spock’s life is something akin to a poison.”
Jim took a step back, his face burning. “No.”
T’Pring’s eyes flashed. “You are a poison, James Kirk, son of no one.”
Oh, hell no. Jim bared his teeth and bunched his hands. “Don’t you open your fucking mouth and act like you know -”
“I have known Spock for eleven years, two months, and four days. I have come to terms with his ineffectuality as a Vulcan. I have accepted that he will never be an ideal companion, but I also concede that we are mentally compatible and that he will be an adequate mate. Because of his disadvantages, it is probable that he will constantly work to be a stronger man.”
It was T’Pring’s turn to approach Jim. She, like Spock, was all smooth grace and subtlety - but the venom in her eyes sapped any of the beauty she might have shared with Spock. “And now I come to this savage planet under the assumption that Spock will have reconciled his Human half with the Vulcan, only to find that he has allowed himself to become almost entirely Human. It is a most distasteful revelation.”
“Bitch,” Jim spat. He’d fully collected himself now. He was ready to do this. No one would talk about Spock like he was some deficient freak of nature. “Spock has a right to decide how to live his life. Everyone does. What’s that bullshit you guys preach? Infinite diversity in infinite combinations? Fuck, you’re a hypocrite.”
T’Pring didn’t flinch. “Spock has made his choice. He follows the path of Surak. It would be illogical to disregard certain aspects of his culture simply because he does not prefer them. One either is or is not a Vulcan. You have caused him to lose his path, and thusly skewed my future as well.”
“Don’t put this on me, honey.” Jim’s smile was razor sharp. “Spock does what he pleases, and so do I. I can’t help it if I’m irresistible to half the galaxy.”
T’Pring’s eyes widened very slightly. Her voice was so hushed that it was nearly carried off by the breeze. She almost sounded astounded.
“You have given no conscious thought to Spock’s future, have you, Mr. Kirk? You have no care for how he will be ostracised should his disposition remain as it is. How my name, in turn, will be sullied by simple connection. You completely disregard the effort his father has put in to his education, his training, and his personal growth. You sneer at the difficulties his mother has faced by deliberately raising her half-Human child as a Vulcan. Everything they have struggled to attain with Spock, and everything Spock has accomplished as a valid member of our community, means nothing to you.”
Jim could only stare, his breath like needles in his lungs. No, was all he could think. No, you’re wrong. You’re -
“You are worse than a Human,” T’Pring said with damnation in her eyes. “You have no legitimate concern for any being but yourself. Therefore, you are entirely alone. You do not even belong with your own race.”
“T’Pring.”
Jim whirled at the barely repressed fury he heard in Spock’s voice. Shit. How long had he been stranding there? By the black look on his face and the clench of his fists, long enough.
“Spock -”
“Spock -” Both T’Pring and Jim said in tandem, with one emotionless and the other worried. Jim flicked a glare over his shoulder, and then retrained his eyes on Spock.
T’Pring spoke before Jim could even fathom what to say. “I am pleased that you decided to make your presence known. I was debating whether or not you would do so.”
How had she...
“Spock?” Jim snapped, sounding more accusatory than he’d hoped.
Spock couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to glower at T’Pring or search Jim’s face for answers. He swallowed softly.
“We have a fledging marital bond. Although I have kept my thoughts distant from her, she remains able to sense my presence within a certain vicinity.”
“Marital bond?” Jim said. He scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ.” In the distant depths of his mind he reminded himself never to get tangled up in drama like this ever again. “Um, this is -”
Spock didn’t seem to particularly care what Jim had to say. He appeared to have focused on T’Pring.
“You have no right to speak so freely to Jim. I empathise with your disappointment at having an inadequate bondmate, but you may not release your frustration on one who is not involved.”
“You have allowed him to become involved,” T’Pring replied with a quirk of a brow. “You must take responsibility where it is due. The repercussions of both your and James Kirk’s actions fall to you. But it is not too late to mend your life, Spock. You are not beyond the point of retribution. You may still be S’chn T’gai Spock, son of Sarek, Ambassador to Earth.”
“And offspring to Lady Amanda Grayson, a Human,” Spock said icily. “I will never be the Vulcan you wish me to be. I wish that I c-” he cut himself off and shook his head.
Jim aimed a narrow look his way. Was Spock truly about to say that he wished he was the type of Vulcan T’Pring wanted?
A spike of fear stabbed at Jim’s chest. “Spock. Don’t listen to this shit. Don’t let anyone walk over you like they’re superior - like they own you. You’re better than that. You’re better than this fuckin’ Vulcan, and that’s for certain.”
“Observe how he refers to you, Spock,” T’Pring said smoothly. “He orders you to make your own decisions. He is a hypocrite. By complying with his demands, you succumb to his domination over you. I do not wish to control you Spock. I merely wish to guide you to your rightful place as an esteemed and respected member of the Vulcan race.”
“Oh, shut up. Who are you, a stereotypical villain?”
Jim flicked off T’Pring over his shoulder and met Spock in long, swaggering strides. Doubt was plastered clear as day across Spock’s face, and that terrified Jim more than he could fathom. Spock’s indecision hurt.
“Spock.” Jim cupped the back of Spock’s neck. He frowned up at those wide, doe-eyes. “All my life I’ve let Frank beat me down, and you can see what kind of shitty, useless person that’s made me. Don’t let the same thing happen to you. Fuck this marital bond, fuck Vulcan. Be whoever you want to be and let’s get out of here.”
Spock blinked rapidly. His voice was hoarse. “What are you offering, Jim?”
“I don’t know - something, anything better than this.” Jim’s hands went jittery and fluttered down to Spock’s chest. He fisted the front of Spock’s shirt, and Jim inwardly cringed at his own pathetic desperation. “You’re brilliant - I’m brilliant. We could do whatever we wanted with our lives, if it weren’t for the assholes trying to mould us into the people we’re not.”
“I am unsure who I am, Jim.” Spock looked profoundly saddened by this admission. “There is no place for me on Earth or Vulcan. I must carve one.”
“Then make one with me, Spock.”
From behind him, T’Pring’s voice raised half an octave. “Do not act rashly, Spock. Do not shame me. Do not shame yourself. You have no profitable future with this Human. He is nothing.”
Spock flinched, and Jim’s eyes bugged as he swore he heard something like a growl rumble from Spock’s throat. Jim could only yelp as Spock clenched one of his hands and almost physically dragged him towards - who the hell knew where.
“Come, Jim.”
“Yeah - uh - don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Jim said as he skipped a few times to keep up with Spock.
Their fingers intertwined, and a bundle of warmth in Jim’s palm spread through his limbs. He couldn’t hold back the grin as he threw a look over his shoulder and winked at the shrinking form of Tree Pig, the Bitch from Outer Space.
They walked in silence for a while, with Jim following Spock’s lead without question. That in itself was bordering on the realm of madness. When had Jim ever done anything for someone other than himself? When had he basically offered to spend his life with another person? When had he learned to implicitly trust?
The answer was actually a lot easier than he imagined it would be - since Spock.
Okay, they were definitely in the middle of a random wheat field right now. Midday sun folded them in gold from sky to earth. Jim could trust Spock, but that didn’t mean he was going to keep quiet.
“What are we - er, where are we going?”
Spock stopped, staring straight ahead, his eyes hard. Jim realised he had been walking on autopilot. Just going through the motions and blowing off steam the silent, Vulcan way.
The Vulcan way.
Jim ignored the twinge in his chest. “Spock?”
Spock whipped around to face him. Both hands came up to cup Jim’s cheeks, and for the first time in weeks Jim found himself unable to read that depthless gaze.
“Okay, the strong and silent aura really loses its charm after a wh- mmf”
Jim was effectively silenced with a kiss that had his toes curling. Slow, deliberate flicks of tongue coaxed his mouth open. Jim swore he heard his heart sigh when Spock tilted Jim’s chin up so he could press his hot lips to the pulse beneath his jaw.
Just as reverently as Jim had been kissed, Spock enveloped him into his arms. Jim stood a bit stiff, with his hands at Spock’s hips and his face pressed against Spock’s armpit. Jim was not a hugger. Not for anyone. It was too... too...
Oh, to hell with it.
Jim slipped his hands tentatively around Spock’s thin waist and gave an experimental squeeze. When Spock silently laid his cheek atop Jim’s head, he was officially done.
Dammit. He loved Spock. Loved. Whatever that meant.
And with that halting realisation came another, more sobering one.
T’Pring had been right. Not about everything - and not about the manner in which she’d basically torn Jim a new one in her desperation to keep Spock in her clutches. She’d been dead-on about one fact, though.
Jim was selfish. He always had been. And for the longest time that hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and anyone with half a brain knew that. Jim had long ago learned to be self-sufficient.
But now there was someone else Jim wanted to care for - and that was all shades of exhilarating and frightening.
Exhilarating, because this level of affection and loyalty was all fresh and new and shiny to Jim. He wanted to bask in the glow of the one emotion Jim had told himself he would never experience. He had the urge to do what was right for Spock, and help him realise the extraordinary person that he was.
Frightening, because when Jim realised that he wanted to encourage Spock to reach his full potential, he arrived at an unshakable conclusion:
Jim had to let Spock go. There was no way he’d flourish in Jim’s company.
You are a poison, James Kirk.
Just running away from everything - it wouldn’t be enough in the future. Not for Spock and not for Jim. Especially for Spock, who had so much ahead of him despite the poorly matched marriage.
Shit - maturity really sucked.
Well... standing around being depressing was a waste of time. Jim had a Vulcan clinging to him like he was the most important thing in the world. The sun was shining. He was in love. That was nothing to scoff at.
Jim slid his hands between their chests and reached up to lace his fingers behind Spock’s neck. The light hit Spock’s warm gaze at an angle that had amber and gold flashing like sparks in the dark.
These days, Jim was seeing the light a lot more than he’d used to. Maybe it wouldn’t last - in fact, it definitely wouldn’t. Nothing good ever did. But Jim had learned long ago to grab onto those tiny flecks of light when he could; put them in a jar like summer fireflies and marvel at them until they burnt out.
Burnt out fireflies. The year of the cicadas.
Everything ended. But it was damn good while it lasted.
Jim tugged at the silky hairs on the back of Spock’s neck and offered a crooked smile. My Vulcan he thought, before he rose to his toes and laid a soft, coaxing kiss upon Spock’s lips.
“Yes,” Spock said hoarsely against Jim’s mouth, and for once Jim knew what it really felt like to be the centre of attention.
What it felt like to be someone’s sun.
There was poetry with the grace that Jim encircled Spock’s waist and guided them both to their knees. But Jim had never been a writer or a particularly skilled orator, and so all he could think was this: He didn’t believe in destiny - but if he did, he’d say that this singular moment in time was the only thing he had to do in his life to feel complete.
Jim flopped back into the golden grass, the whisper and hiss of the stalks in the breeze like the soundtrack of this summer. Everything had diluted, hot and burning and strong, to this speck of time. Jim didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.
He saw it in the glistening desperation darkening Spock’s eyes, felt it in the way the world seemed to be catching up and closing in on them. His pulse raced as Spock bowed his head and claimed Jim’s mouth in a series of slow, wet kisses. Jim’s knees quivered as he spread them, guiding Spock in the warm vee of his legs.
Spock was a heavy weight atop him, the only anchor Jim could ever see himself tethered to. The only person he felt he could cling to, and so he did.
Jim gripped and grabbed at the hem of Spock’s shirt, humming persuasively against his mouth. Spock sat up, still kneeling between Jim’s legs as he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Without giving the action a single thought, Jim held his arms out - palms open and fingers spread, simply welcoming Spock into him.
Somehow Jim felt this would be the first and last time he would find it in himself to offer anyone a hug - offer anyone himself.
Spock’s face flushed, his lips parting with obvious hunger. His inky eyelashes lowered as he surveyed Jim’s prone form from mouth to bellybutton and back. Wordlessly he placed his hands upon Jim’s torso, atop his t-shirt, and delicately pushed up. The material clung around Spock’s fingers, slid along Jim’s chest, until Jim lurched up with his arms still in the air and allowed Spock to shuck the article away.
Jim shook his head when he popped out of the shirt, and laughed as he felt his hair go into wild disarray. The chuckle faded and hung in Jim’s throat when Spock’s palm curved against his cheek with an abruptly serious expression - well, moreso than usual.
“What?” Jim said, sounding more breathless than he’d expected.
“Nothing.” Spock sounded more Human than he ever had. He stared intently at Jim, looking too old for his years. “I was cataloguing this laugh. I didn’t recognise it.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and smirked. That was possibly one of the strangest, shmoopiest, sweetest things he’d ever heard. “And how many laughs do I have?”
“I have counted fourteen, so far.”
Jim snorted as he leaned in and bumped his nose against Spock’s. “Does that make me untrustworthy, to have so many?”
Spock held the back of Jim’s head, his fingertips warm and firm and relaxing at Jim’s nape. His eyelids fluttered shut as he brushed his mouth over Jim’s. “No, rather - fascinating. Complex.”
Jim couldn’t help but laugh at that as he linked his arms around Spock’s neck and pulled them back to the ground. He didn’t think he was a complicated person. He liked books and booze and the outdoors and Spock. There wasn’t much else that he required to be content - happy, even. But if Spock felt the need to look further than that, he could. There wouldn’t be much of interest to find.
Not that much time remained for them to discover each other, Jim thought with a shiver of panic. Spock chose that moment to strip them both with a single-minded purpose that sparked fissures across Jim’s skin and broke him into a light sweat, just from the attentiveness of Spock’s sharp eyes and shaking hands.
Naked and baking under the sun, their curious hands turned insistent; grabbing and grappling sweaty skin, pushing and pulling and arching for every new feeling there could be. Dust and dirt rose up as harried kisses and touches and whispers turned to tumbling and rolling and laughing amid the swaying sea of prairie grass.
Spock’s lips latched on to Jim’s with wet, hot greed. The kiss grew in hunger and desperation, their tongues slick with promises and their roaming hands screaming with possessiveness. Jim shuddered as Spock’s dick brushed his own, all heavy and full and smearing precum against their bellies. They instinctively slid and slotted together, clumsy and overeager, but not near giving a shit about finesse.
Jim wanted to give Spock everything in any way he could, and just as fervidly desired anything Spock would give him.
It was when Jim had a grass-stained knee hooked over Spock’s sun-seared shoulder and they were rolling tight and tucked and wet against each other that Jim realised just what was missing.
Of course they wouldn’t have lube or condoms on them right now. Jim simultaneously groaned and laughed at the inconvenience that was his life.
“And you woulda been the first to go where no man has gone before,” Jim said with a smile as he bucked his hips up and roughly thrust their cocks together.
Spock shuddered, a faint whimper clinging in his throat as he cuffed Jim’s wrists and threw them above his head. His eyes went near black and the sun haloed his body in white illumination and bright blue sky.
Then Spock surged forward like a man incensed, and Jim yielded like he was made for this. Jerked up into strong, sure arms that wouldn’t always be there. Jim rained sloppy, urgent kisses along the pale curves and slopes of Spock’s neck and jaw and shoulder. Tasted grass and dirt and copper and spice that filled his head and left him foggy and gasping for breath.
Thrusting stuttered into mindless grinding as Jim dug aching fingertips into Spock’s back, down his sides, felt that drumming heart beneath his palm. The backs of Jim’s closed eyelids were a fucking lightshow, and his skin felt the same with each possessive bruise Spock left on his skin. They rutted against each other, a single entity of sweat and humid breath and curving, clenching limbs and muscles.
Jim rolled and slammed Spock on his back, and rose over him in one unsmooth motion. Spock had only enough time to suck in a ragged breath before Jim had their cocks fisted together, already jacking them in sweat-slick tandem. Spock’s lips parted in a strangled ‘o’ just before his hips arched, and Jim sped up with laboured huffs of breath, his eyes never leaving Spock’s flushed face.
And then a heatwave flared through Jim’s limbs, leaving white stars in his vision and a Vulcan shuddering in time beneath him. Spent and shivering and sweaty as all hell, Jim managed a weak laugh right before he collapsed atop Spock.
For a moment they were still as the cloudless sky above, dirt and mud caked between them and on them. It made Jim feel part of every fucking thing in this world - including Spock.
When Spock actually coughed at that point and said, “I may have swallowed grass,” Jim knew he was irreversibly in love.
And it felt about as comforting as falling down a flight of stairs.
CHAPTER 9
“Spock?” A feminine voice came from behind the door, followed by a knock.
Jim jerked from sleep with a snort. He squinted against the bright afternoon light and gravitated towards the nearest warm body.
Spock had sat up in bed, his hair rumpled and his eyes alert. He spoke clearly and shifted to move from the bed. “I am here, Aunt Anna.”
Jim flipped and rolled until his head rested upon Spock’s lap. He looked up at Spock’s consternate expression and offered a sleepy smile.
Aunt Anna’s voice filtered into the room. “It’s almost noon, Spock. Are you all right?”
Spock pushed at the side of Jim’s head in attempts to dislodge him from his lap, but Jim stifled a laugh and lurched up. Spock sent him a silent look of admonishment before shifting forward to stand. “I assure you that I am well.”
“Well, if you say so.”
Of course, Jim wouldn’t have any of that. He pressed his chest against Spock’s back and slung his arms around his neck. Spock promptly flopped backwards and sat on the bed, his hands snapping to Jim’s in attempts to pry him away. Jim pointedly ignored him and hummed softly while placing a kiss behind Spock’s ear.
“I ahmm.” Spock’s assurance was slurred as Jim’s fingers slid down his torso to swirl in his happy-trail. Jim muffled another laugh against Spock’s shoulder.
Aunt Anna had apparently not left yet. “Is something going on in there?”
“No. My previous night’s rest proved insufficient and I have woken late. Please excuse my absence this morning.”
Spock whipped his hand over his shoulder to lightly slap Jim on the nose like a bad puppy. Jim nipped at his fingers.
There was a significant pause at the door and then the sound of retreating footsteps. Spock angled a glower at Jim.
Jim beamed. “Um, good morning?”
“You are highly distracting.”
“Oh? Then you won’t be surprised if I...” Jim’s fingers snuck beneath the sheets pooled at Spock’s waist and fluttered over his cock. Spock hissed breath, and Jim smirked triumphantly against the nape of Spock’s neck.
Before Jim could fully comprehend Spock’s intent, he was flat on the mattress with an intense Vulcan on top of him. His heart hammered once, hard against his ribcage, as if it simply wanted to tear from his chest and lay in Spock’s palms.
The imagery was terrifying and painful - and fuck, Jim wanted it.
No one looked at him like this. Like Spock wanted all of him - bruises included. Jim didn’t know why, but there it was. He wasn’t about the walk away from the one good thing in his life right now. Hell, maybe the only good thing he would experience if he didn’t live long enough to enjoy all that the galaxy had to offer.
Jim knew he should safeguard himself. He knew this would eventually lead to regrets and heartache and a consequent drinking binge that might just rival Frank’s alcohol tolerance levels.
But - fuck it. There would only be one Spock. There would only be this one summer. And this wouldn’t last forever.
Jim’s heart constricted painfully in his chest, but he smiled anyway. He reached up and swept his thumb along the severe incline of one eyebrow.
Only one Spock - who was pinning Jim to the mattress with the hard lines of his body and that fathomless black stare. Jim raised his eyebrows expectantly, with his grin growing cocky.
“Are you trying to intimidate me? Because it’s only giving me a hard-on.”
Spock gave the desired reaction - he huffed with exasperation and placed a silencing kiss on Jim’s waiting lips. They melted into each other for a moment, and Jim could pretend he was normal and this was normal.
When Spock propped up on his elbows to peer down at Jim, his cheeks were flushed like spring grass.
“Depart by window and knock at the front door.”
Jim blinked. “Say what, Shakespeare?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You do not accept my invitation to lunch?”
Jim floundered for a reply. “Ah - yes. Sure. Okay.”
They stared at each other for a couple seconds, and Jim couldn’t help but cant his hips and press his interested dick against Spock’s thigh.
Spock’s eyes darkened, but he calmly said, “Leave my room now, Jim.”
“Who are you, the captain?” Jim said good-naturedly.
He rolled out from under Spock anyway and set about collecting his discarded clothes. Jim yanked on his boxers and jeans, hopping on one foot as he watched Spock dress from the corner of his eye. Every movement was fluid and purposeful.
Jim’s head got stuck in his shirt.
Spock came over and efficiently tugged it down. Their eyes met and held - Jim was the one to look down and away in search of his sneakers.
The events of the previous night were smeared and unclear now. Like a grotesque painting that someone had streaked their hand across while the colour was still damp. Some moments were still clear and vibrant, while others bled to obscurity. That canvas had been painted over dozens of times, and with each past incident of violence the picture only slightly varied.
Of course, with the circumstance of last night there had been a significant difference in the composition. Spock.
Jim shook off his recollection of the previous evening. No point in dwelling or analysing. He wouldn’t even allow himself to linger on Spock’s volatile reaction to Frank and the way he’d rushed to the rescue. He’d acted as if Jim had meant something - as if he belonged to Spock.
His delusions were too optimistic, even for Jim.
Especially for Jim.
Still...
“Thanks for, uh,” Jim paused, awkwardly turning words on his tongue. “Everything. Last night - it was -”
Spock was standing there, just patiently looking at him. So perfect and complete and really fucking naïve for all his intellect.
Jim didn’t know what to do with someone like that. Someone real and true. Jim was oftentimes frank and blunt, but not honest like Spock was.
“Yeah,” Jim finished lamely. He felt like an idiot for even attempting to say anything genuinely heartfelt.
So he grinned like he didn’t care. He saluted Spock, turned and scrambled out of the window. The minute his feet hit the dusty earth, he didn’t look back - just meandered around to the front of the house with hands shoved in his pockets.
“Hello.”
Jim startled. He would recognise that cultured, inflectionless tone anywhere. He turned and regarded T’Pring. This was only the second time he’d encountered the stunning Vulcan, and her striking visage propelled Jim back an awful three days.
“Uh, hi. I was just coming to visit.”
T’Pring’s slim hands emerged from their long bell sleeves and folded before her. “Correct my assumption if I am in error, but it appears as if you have already visited and are now departing.”
“No, I was just about to knock. Spock invited me over for lunch.”
Today her eyes were the colour of sand, merciless and scorching in their intensity. “I see.”
Jim was sure they both saw the same thing. But he refused to shift awkwardly. Instead he purposely slouched and looked around, bored with the conversation.
T’Pring regarded him like a statue. “James Kirk, what are you intentions with my betrothed?”
“Sorry - what?”
Jim wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected that. T’Pring didn’t seem like the type to play coy.
Her eyebrows raised a fraction. “Are you apologising for something?”
“I - ah, no, I’m not.” Jim folded his arms across his chest and took a step towards T’Pring. Fuck, she was nearly as tall as Spock. So annoying. “Spock and I are friends, all right? We don’t need you to monitor our relationship.”
“I am not monitoring. I have simply heard that you spend an inordinate amount of time with Spock.”
“How about he spends a lot of time with me? Has it occurred to you that he might like me?”
T’Pring didn’t even nod. “It has. Hence my line of inquiry.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, to answer your question - I don’t have any intentions. I’m just having fun, and so is Spock.” He turned to leave.
“And by ‘fun’, you infer coitus.”
Oh my God.
Jim turned and couldn’t help but gawk at T’Pring’s stone-cold expression. Technically they hadn’t had sex. A mutual hand-job and a blow-job that made Jim see colours did not coitus make. “And what if I do?”
“You are aware that Vulcans do not take physical relationships lightly. Or as you say, ‘for fun’.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
They hadn’t really discussed it or anything. It just kind of happened - like breathing. Jim didn’t know any other way to be around Spock.
Something flitted across T’Pring’s features, but it was too muted to comprehend. “Then logically you are aware that what you are doing is morally and ethically wrong by Vulcan social standards.”
“What? No, I -”
“And you are conscious that by nurturing an intimate rapport with my betrothed, you are condemning him to future mental duress and almost definite ridicule should his situation be unearthed. He will be definitively shunned and shamed in name and position. ”
“Fuck, no. I wouldn’t do that on purp-”
Each word projected from T’Pring’s lips were like bee stings. “And if you are mindful of these inevitabilities, you must logically have come to the conclusion that your presence in Spock’s life is something akin to a poison.”
Jim took a step back, his face burning. “No.”
T’Pring’s eyes flashed. “You are a poison, James Kirk, son of no one.”
Oh, hell no. Jim bared his teeth and bunched his hands. “Don’t you open your fucking mouth and act like you know -”
“I have known Spock for eleven years, two months, and four days. I have come to terms with his ineffectuality as a Vulcan. I have accepted that he will never be an ideal companion, but I also concede that we are mentally compatible and that he will be an adequate mate. Because of his disadvantages, it is probable that he will constantly work to be a stronger man.”
It was T’Pring’s turn to approach Jim. She, like Spock, was all smooth grace and subtlety - but the venom in her eyes sapped any of the beauty she might have shared with Spock. “And now I come to this savage planet under the assumption that Spock will have reconciled his Human half with the Vulcan, only to find that he has allowed himself to become almost entirely Human. It is a most distasteful revelation.”
“Bitch,” Jim spat. He’d fully collected himself now. He was ready to do this. No one would talk about Spock like he was some deficient freak of nature. “Spock has a right to decide how to live his life. Everyone does. What’s that bullshit you guys preach? Infinite diversity in infinite combinations? Fuck, you’re a hypocrite.”
T’Pring didn’t flinch. “Spock has made his choice. He follows the path of Surak. It would be illogical to disregard certain aspects of his culture simply because he does not prefer them. One either is or is not a Vulcan. You have caused him to lose his path, and thusly skewed my future as well.”
“Don’t put this on me, honey.” Jim’s smile was razor sharp. “Spock does what he pleases, and so do I. I can’t help it if I’m irresistible to half the galaxy.”
T’Pring’s eyes widened very slightly. Her voice was so hushed that it was nearly carried off by the breeze. She almost sounded astounded.
“You have given no conscious thought to Spock’s future, have you, Mr. Kirk? You have no care for how he will be ostracised should his disposition remain as it is. How my name, in turn, will be sullied by simple connection. You completely disregard the effort his father has put in to his education, his training, and his personal growth. You sneer at the difficulties his mother has faced by deliberately raising her half-Human child as a Vulcan. Everything they have struggled to attain with Spock, and everything Spock has accomplished as a valid member of our community, means nothing to you.”
Jim could only stare, his breath like needles in his lungs. No, was all he could think. No, you’re wrong. You’re -
“You are worse than a Human,” T’Pring said with damnation in her eyes. “You have no legitimate concern for any being but yourself. Therefore, you are entirely alone. You do not even belong with your own race.”
“T’Pring.”
Jim whirled at the barely repressed fury he heard in Spock’s voice. Shit. How long had he been stranding there? By the black look on his face and the clench of his fists, long enough.
“Spock -”
“Spock -” Both T’Pring and Jim said in tandem, with one emotionless and the other worried. Jim flicked a glare over his shoulder, and then retrained his eyes on Spock.
T’Pring spoke before Jim could even fathom what to say. “I am pleased that you decided to make your presence known. I was debating whether or not you would do so.”
How had she...
“Spock?” Jim snapped, sounding more accusatory than he’d hoped.
Spock couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to glower at T’Pring or search Jim’s face for answers. He swallowed softly.
“We have a fledging marital bond. Although I have kept my thoughts distant from her, she remains able to sense my presence within a certain vicinity.”
“Marital bond?” Jim said. He scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ.” In the distant depths of his mind he reminded himself never to get tangled up in drama like this ever again. “Um, this is -”
Spock didn’t seem to particularly care what Jim had to say. He appeared to have focused on T’Pring.
“You have no right to speak so freely to Jim. I empathise with your disappointment at having an inadequate bondmate, but you may not release your frustration on one who is not involved.”
“You have allowed him to become involved,” T’Pring replied with a quirk of a brow. “You must take responsibility where it is due. The repercussions of both your and James Kirk’s actions fall to you. But it is not too late to mend your life, Spock. You are not beyond the point of retribution. You may still be S’chn T’gai Spock, son of Sarek, Ambassador to Earth.”
“And offspring to Lady Amanda Grayson, a Human,” Spock said icily. “I will never be the Vulcan you wish me to be. I wish that I c-” he cut himself off and shook his head.
Jim aimed a narrow look his way. Was Spock truly about to say that he wished he was the type of Vulcan T’Pring wanted?
A spike of fear stabbed at Jim’s chest. “Spock. Don’t listen to this shit. Don’t let anyone walk over you like they’re superior - like they own you. You’re better than that. You’re better than this fuckin’ Vulcan, and that’s for certain.”
“Observe how he refers to you, Spock,” T’Pring said smoothly. “He orders you to make your own decisions. He is a hypocrite. By complying with his demands, you succumb to his domination over you. I do not wish to control you Spock. I merely wish to guide you to your rightful place as an esteemed and respected member of the Vulcan race.”
“Oh, shut up. Who are you, a stereotypical villain?”
Jim flicked off T’Pring over his shoulder and met Spock in long, swaggering strides. Doubt was plastered clear as day across Spock’s face, and that terrified Jim more than he could fathom. Spock’s indecision hurt.
“Spock.” Jim cupped the back of Spock’s neck. He frowned up at those wide, doe-eyes. “All my life I’ve let Frank beat me down, and you can see what kind of shitty, useless person that’s made me. Don’t let the same thing happen to you. Fuck this marital bond, fuck Vulcan. Be whoever you want to be and let’s get out of here.”
Spock blinked rapidly. His voice was hoarse. “What are you offering, Jim?”
“I don’t know - something, anything better than this.” Jim’s hands went jittery and fluttered down to Spock’s chest. He fisted the front of Spock’s shirt, and Jim inwardly cringed at his own pathetic desperation. “You’re brilliant - I’m brilliant. We could do whatever we wanted with our lives, if it weren’t for the assholes trying to mould us into the people we’re not.”
“I am unsure who I am, Jim.” Spock looked profoundly saddened by this admission. “There is no place for me on Earth or Vulcan. I must carve one.”
“Then make one with me, Spock.”
From behind him, T’Pring’s voice raised half an octave. “Do not act rashly, Spock. Do not shame me. Do not shame yourself. You have no profitable future with this Human. He is nothing.”
Spock flinched, and Jim’s eyes bugged as he swore he heard something like a growl rumble from Spock’s throat. Jim could only yelp as Spock clenched one of his hands and almost physically dragged him towards - who the hell knew where.
“Come, Jim.”
“Yeah - uh - don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Jim said as he skipped a few times to keep up with Spock.
Their fingers intertwined, and a bundle of warmth in Jim’s palm spread through his limbs. He couldn’t hold back the grin as he threw a look over his shoulder and winked at the shrinking form of Tree Pig, the Bitch from Outer Space.
They walked in silence for a while, with Jim following Spock’s lead without question. That in itself was bordering on the realm of madness. When had Jim ever done anything for someone other than himself? When had he basically offered to spend his life with another person? When had he learned to implicitly trust?
The answer was actually a lot easier than he imagined it would be - since Spock.
Okay, they were definitely in the middle of a random wheat field right now. Midday sun folded them in gold from sky to earth. Jim could trust Spock, but that didn’t mean he was going to keep quiet.
“What are we - er, where are we going?”
Spock stopped, staring straight ahead, his eyes hard. Jim realised he had been walking on autopilot. Just going through the motions and blowing off steam the silent, Vulcan way.
The Vulcan way.
Jim ignored the twinge in his chest. “Spock?”
Spock whipped around to face him. Both hands came up to cup Jim’s cheeks, and for the first time in weeks Jim found himself unable to read that depthless gaze.
“Okay, the strong and silent aura really loses its charm after a wh- mmf”
Jim was effectively silenced with a kiss that had his toes curling. Slow, deliberate flicks of tongue coaxed his mouth open. Jim swore he heard his heart sigh when Spock tilted Jim’s chin up so he could press his hot lips to the pulse beneath his jaw.
Just as reverently as Jim had been kissed, Spock enveloped him into his arms. Jim stood a bit stiff, with his hands at Spock’s hips and his face pressed against Spock’s armpit. Jim was not a hugger. Not for anyone. It was too... too...
Oh, to hell with it.
Jim slipped his hands tentatively around Spock’s thin waist and gave an experimental squeeze. When Spock silently laid his cheek atop Jim’s head, he was officially done.
Dammit. He loved Spock. Loved. Whatever that meant.
And with that halting realisation came another, more sobering one.
T’Pring had been right. Not about everything - and not about the manner in which she’d basically torn Jim a new one in her desperation to keep Spock in her clutches. She’d been dead-on about one fact, though.
Jim was selfish. He always had been. And for the longest time that hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and anyone with half a brain knew that. Jim had long ago learned to be self-sufficient.
But now there was someone else Jim wanted to care for - and that was all shades of exhilarating and frightening.
Exhilarating, because this level of affection and loyalty was all fresh and new and shiny to Jim. He wanted to bask in the glow of the one emotion Jim had told himself he would never experience. He had the urge to do what was right for Spock, and help him realise the extraordinary person that he was.
Frightening, because when Jim realised that he wanted to encourage Spock to reach his full potential, he arrived at an unshakable conclusion:
Jim had to let Spock go. There was no way he’d flourish in Jim’s company.
You are a poison, James Kirk.
Just running away from everything - it wouldn’t be enough in the future. Not for Spock and not for Jim. Especially for Spock, who had so much ahead of him despite the poorly matched marriage.
Shit - maturity really sucked.
Well... standing around being depressing was a waste of time. Jim had a Vulcan clinging to him like he was the most important thing in the world. The sun was shining. He was in love. That was nothing to scoff at.
Jim slid his hands between their chests and reached up to lace his fingers behind Spock’s neck. The light hit Spock’s warm gaze at an angle that had amber and gold flashing like sparks in the dark.
These days, Jim was seeing the light a lot more than he’d used to. Maybe it wouldn’t last - in fact, it definitely wouldn’t. Nothing good ever did. But Jim had learned long ago to grab onto those tiny flecks of light when he could; put them in a jar like summer fireflies and marvel at them until they burnt out.
Burnt out fireflies. The year of the cicadas.
Everything ended. But it was damn good while it lasted.
Jim tugged at the silky hairs on the back of Spock’s neck and offered a crooked smile. My Vulcan he thought, before he rose to his toes and laid a soft, coaxing kiss upon Spock’s lips.
“Yes,” Spock said hoarsely against Jim’s mouth, and for once Jim knew what it really felt like to be the centre of attention.
What it felt like to be someone’s sun.
There was poetry with the grace that Jim encircled Spock’s waist and guided them both to their knees. But Jim had never been a writer or a particularly skilled orator, and so all he could think was this: He didn’t believe in destiny - but if he did, he’d say that this singular moment in time was the only thing he had to do in his life to feel complete.
Jim flopped back into the golden grass, the whisper and hiss of the stalks in the breeze like the soundtrack of this summer. Everything had diluted, hot and burning and strong, to this speck of time. Jim didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.
He saw it in the glistening desperation darkening Spock’s eyes, felt it in the way the world seemed to be catching up and closing in on them. His pulse raced as Spock bowed his head and claimed Jim’s mouth in a series of slow, wet kisses. Jim’s knees quivered as he spread them, guiding Spock in the warm vee of his legs.
Spock was a heavy weight atop him, the only anchor Jim could ever see himself tethered to. The only person he felt he could cling to, and so he did.
Jim gripped and grabbed at the hem of Spock’s shirt, humming persuasively against his mouth. Spock sat up, still kneeling between Jim’s legs as he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Without giving the action a single thought, Jim held his arms out - palms open and fingers spread, simply welcoming Spock into him.
Somehow Jim felt this would be the first and last time he would find it in himself to offer anyone a hug - offer anyone himself.
Spock’s face flushed, his lips parting with obvious hunger. His inky eyelashes lowered as he surveyed Jim’s prone form from mouth to bellybutton and back. Wordlessly he placed his hands upon Jim’s torso, atop his t-shirt, and delicately pushed up. The material clung around Spock’s fingers, slid along Jim’s chest, until Jim lurched up with his arms still in the air and allowed Spock to shuck the article away.
Jim shook his head when he popped out of the shirt, and laughed as he felt his hair go into wild disarray. The chuckle faded and hung in Jim’s throat when Spock’s palm curved against his cheek with an abruptly serious expression - well, moreso than usual.
“What?” Jim said, sounding more breathless than he’d expected.
“Nothing.” Spock sounded more Human than he ever had. He stared intently at Jim, looking too old for his years. “I was cataloguing this laugh. I didn’t recognise it.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and smirked. That was possibly one of the strangest, shmoopiest, sweetest things he’d ever heard. “And how many laughs do I have?”
“I have counted fourteen, so far.”
Jim snorted as he leaned in and bumped his nose against Spock’s. “Does that make me untrustworthy, to have so many?”
Spock held the back of Jim’s head, his fingertips warm and firm and relaxing at Jim’s nape. His eyelids fluttered shut as he brushed his mouth over Jim’s. “No, rather - fascinating. Complex.”
Jim couldn’t help but laugh at that as he linked his arms around Spock’s neck and pulled them back to the ground. He didn’t think he was a complicated person. He liked books and booze and the outdoors and Spock. There wasn’t much else that he required to be content - happy, even. But if Spock felt the need to look further than that, he could. There wouldn’t be much of interest to find.
Not that much time remained for them to discover each other, Jim thought with a shiver of panic. Spock chose that moment to strip them both with a single-minded purpose that sparked fissures across Jim’s skin and broke him into a light sweat, just from the attentiveness of Spock’s sharp eyes and shaking hands.
Naked and baking under the sun, their curious hands turned insistent; grabbing and grappling sweaty skin, pushing and pulling and arching for every new feeling there could be. Dust and dirt rose up as harried kisses and touches and whispers turned to tumbling and rolling and laughing amid the swaying sea of prairie grass.
Spock’s lips latched on to Jim’s with wet, hot greed. The kiss grew in hunger and desperation, their tongues slick with promises and their roaming hands screaming with possessiveness. Jim shuddered as Spock’s dick brushed his own, all heavy and full and smearing precum against their bellies. They instinctively slid and slotted together, clumsy and overeager, but not near giving a shit about finesse.
Jim wanted to give Spock everything in any way he could, and just as fervidly desired anything Spock would give him.
It was when Jim had a grass-stained knee hooked over Spock’s sun-seared shoulder and they were rolling tight and tucked and wet against each other that Jim realised just what was missing.
Of course they wouldn’t have lube or condoms on them right now. Jim simultaneously groaned and laughed at the inconvenience that was his life.
“And you woulda been the first to go where no man has gone before,” Jim said with a smile as he bucked his hips up and roughly thrust their cocks together.
Spock shuddered, a faint whimper clinging in his throat as he cuffed Jim’s wrists and threw them above his head. His eyes went near black and the sun haloed his body in white illumination and bright blue sky.
Then Spock surged forward like a man incensed, and Jim yielded like he was made for this. Jerked up into strong, sure arms that wouldn’t always be there. Jim rained sloppy, urgent kisses along the pale curves and slopes of Spock’s neck and jaw and shoulder. Tasted grass and dirt and copper and spice that filled his head and left him foggy and gasping for breath.
Thrusting stuttered into mindless grinding as Jim dug aching fingertips into Spock’s back, down his sides, felt that drumming heart beneath his palm. The backs of Jim’s closed eyelids were a fucking lightshow, and his skin felt the same with each possessive bruise Spock left on his skin. They rutted against each other, a single entity of sweat and humid breath and curving, clenching limbs and muscles.
Jim rolled and slammed Spock on his back, and rose over him in one unsmooth motion. Spock had only enough time to suck in a ragged breath before Jim had their cocks fisted together, already jacking them in sweat-slick tandem. Spock’s lips parted in a strangled ‘o’ just before his hips arched, and Jim sped up with laboured huffs of breath, his eyes never leaving Spock’s flushed face.
And then a heatwave flared through Jim’s limbs, leaving white stars in his vision and a Vulcan shuddering in time beneath him. Spent and shivering and sweaty as all hell, Jim managed a weak laugh right before he collapsed atop Spock.
For a moment they were still as the cloudless sky above, dirt and mud caked between them and on them. It made Jim feel part of every fucking thing in this world - including Spock.
When Spock actually coughed at that point and said, “I may have swallowed grass,” Jim knew he was irreversibly in love.
And it felt about as comforting as falling down a flight of stairs.
CHAPTER 9