Fanfiction: Narcissus, Doubled (Star Trek TOS/reboot), R
Title: Narcissus, Doubled
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS/new movie crossover)
Characters: Kirk!Prime, Kirk!Pine, Spock!Prime
Pairing: Kirk/Kirk
Rating: R
Summary: Jim Kirk takes the chance he never got all those times he got doubled in TOS... This is crack, children.
Warnings: selfcest
Word count: approximately 1,300
Author’s Note: My first Star Trek fic! Of course it’d be Kirk/Kirk. Neither of whom I own, sadly. Written for this prompt of the excellent Star Trek XI Kink Meme (st_xi_kink). Many thanks to the indomitable tkp for going over all the confusing stuff with me.
Jim Kirk, waiting as that familiar tingling sensation subsided, was beginning to wonder if Bones was right about the transporter. If it wasn't splitting him in two, it was... just sending him right back where he'd come from. “Mr. Leslie,” he said without looking up, his voice holding only slight irritation despite the fact he was a busy captain with things to do.
Then he looked up. At the transporter room that was, indeed, exactly like his own-but for the pristine condition that made his heart swell with undisguised admiration for the Enterprise’s clean lines and curves. There weren’t even scuff marks on the walls from all the times he’d thrown someone into them.
The man looking back at him, poised as if to mount the transporter platform, seemed as shiny and new as the Enterprise and just as familiar. It was like looking into a mirror ten years ago, but for the bright blue eyes staring at him with almost comical surprise. Kirk's own traveled up and down the man's body with a look that on anyone else would have been violatingly appreciative but for him just meant he was looking at someone. Appreciation just came with the territory.
Now the man's pretty mouth was opening, to question his presence here, and Kirk realized with a start of impish pleasure that the boy had no idea who he was. He decided to call the younger captain “Jim” in his head, because it sounded both familiar and fond, and he was feeling both. Along with something else. “Who are you?” Jim demanded, clearly confused by the stranger's uniform and rank. “There are no scheduled pick-ups.”
“I wouldn't worry about that, Captain Kirk,” Kirk said smoothly, throwing a patented getting-away-with-it grin-his first line of offense-in the younger man's direction that, without skipping a beat, Jim mirrored instinctively.
Oh, Kirk realized. Of course Jim knew that look, which meant it might not have quite its usual effect--though seeing it mirrored back at him he couldn’t deny its appeal. Kirk tried another, his head tilting ever so slightly, the smile more subtle, his long lashes lowering though not so far that they obscured the glint of gold. And he saw his opponent falter, the confident--make that cocky--grin wavering ever so slightly in the face of what he'd become.
“Wait,” Jim said. “I know you.” Jim searched his mind and came up with some unsettling images from the mind-meld with Spock. He breathed out, an involuntary sound of released awe, and now it was his turn to rake the older man with his eyes. “Oh, wow.”
“I know, right?” Kirk said, stepping off the platform. “You can go, Mr. Leslie.”
The transporter technician, whose name was actually Bernard but was now thinking of changing it, left without a word.
“How did...?”
“Who cares?” Kirk said, with a swagger in Jim's direction, brushing the question off as something Scotty would puzzle over and Spock would figure out. “All I do know is that they'll work out the kinks in less than forty two minutes and I'd just as soon do the same... while I've got the chance.”
“My cabin,” Jim said, with a slightly glazed look Kirk recognized.
It didn't last as long as it usually did on the less-prepared, and the door had barely swooshed shut behind them before Jim had locked and pressed him up against it. The first kiss was only surprising in how well it conformed to Kirk's own opinion of himself, and the confirmation of the pleasure he'd bestowed on so many over the years just aroused him more.
Taking the upper hand, he pushed Jim back against the screen that shielded the bedroom section from the door and proceeded to catalog-in a not-very-systematic way-their similarities and differences. He smirked with pride when a strategically placed hand caused the younger man to gasp and press into it.
“I always thought I looked damn good in uniform,” he said, while incongruously shucking his own. Kirk looked damn good out of it, too, Jim had to admit, despite being older and, you know, heavier. Buff looked good on him, he decided. Hell, he thought in his slightly dazed state, if the man just looked at him like that again he wasn't sure he could answer for the length of the encounter.
Kirk did, and to Jim's relief his own reaction-which was to put his hands anywhere he could, including but not limited to the button of Kirk's trousers-seemed to have exactly the same effect on him. The two men stumbled towards the bed, moving with the synchrony of long-time, but no less enthusiastic, lovers. There were lips and hands everywhere, and teeth, a mixture of raw heat and an odd consideration for the other's pleasure that both thought should have felt odd but couldn't possibly when it felt so good.
Kirk pressed him into the mattress, deftly sliding off the rest of his clothes and somehow simultaneously kissing Jim with captainly insistence, his lips sliding from Jim's to his neck, his collar, his Starfleet-regulation physique and, without even a hint from Jim, his cock. Teasingly, he pulled away, knowing the exact moment to keep Jim on the knife's edge and sliding up his body to murmur in his ear, “your turn.” The command was unmistakable, and Jim shuddered with need as he turned his own mouth to good use.
*
“Your eyes are blue,” Kirk said at last, reclining with perfect nude ease on the captain's bed as if he owned it. He looked relaxed but not at all spent. Jim had a distinct impression that this man walked around without his clothes on all the time, and wondered if he could get away with it, too, and decided he definitely had to just to see if Spock would react.
“Yours aren't,” said Jim, wondering how the man did that twinkly thing with them. It was clearly unnatural. And would have made him kind of jealous if he was any less convinced of his own amazingness, as doubly confirmed by the man before him. “How is that even possible?”
“It looks good on us,” Kirk said irrelevantly. “And who knows? If this is some sort of mirror universe, anything might have altered the genetic mishmash. Something in the water when we were conceived, I don't know.” And clearly didn't care. His eyes traveled the other man's length suggestively. “Luckily everything else seems to be remarkably similar.” The hand he put out to prove it was so familiar and sure in its work that Jim forgot to ponder the vagaries of genetics and was merely thankful for them.
When at length he was emboldened enough to maneuver Kirk onto his back, the older man merely looked up at him in lusty amusement and reached unerringly for the bottle in the top drawer of Jim's bedside table.
“God I'm good,” Kirk sighed, and Jim almost stopped to puzzle out which of them he meant before deciding-aided by the buck of Kirk's body beneath him-that it really didn't matter.
*
As the transporter began its familiar whine, the last thing Kirk saw was his look copied perfectly onto his counterpart's face and he felt more than satisfied that the kid would be all right.
“The kid,” of course, was standing where he'd watched his older self disappear, the glazed look back in place now that the other man wasn't there to see it.
“Finally,” said a voice from the door. Jim swung around, startled to see the older Vulcan watching him with something suspiciously like exasperated amusement. “I was wondering when the event would take place. The only question left in my mind is whether you will be any more able to shut up about it than he.” He turned to go, but not without throwing a last word over his shoulder. “Of course, had I been constantly compared to anyone else, I might have considered it a rather grave insult.”
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS/new movie crossover)
Characters: Kirk!Prime, Kirk!Pine, Spock!Prime
Pairing: Kirk/Kirk
Rating: R
Summary: Jim Kirk takes the chance he never got all those times he got doubled in TOS... This is crack, children.
Warnings: selfcest
Word count: approximately 1,300
Author’s Note: My first Star Trek fic! Of course it’d be Kirk/Kirk. Neither of whom I own, sadly. Written for this prompt of the excellent Star Trek XI Kink Meme (st_xi_kink). Many thanks to the indomitable tkp for going over all the confusing stuff with me.
Jim Kirk, waiting as that familiar tingling sensation subsided, was beginning to wonder if Bones was right about the transporter. If it wasn't splitting him in two, it was... just sending him right back where he'd come from. “Mr. Leslie,” he said without looking up, his voice holding only slight irritation despite the fact he was a busy captain with things to do.
Then he looked up. At the transporter room that was, indeed, exactly like his own-but for the pristine condition that made his heart swell with undisguised admiration for the Enterprise’s clean lines and curves. There weren’t even scuff marks on the walls from all the times he’d thrown someone into them.
The man looking back at him, poised as if to mount the transporter platform, seemed as shiny and new as the Enterprise and just as familiar. It was like looking into a mirror ten years ago, but for the bright blue eyes staring at him with almost comical surprise. Kirk's own traveled up and down the man's body with a look that on anyone else would have been violatingly appreciative but for him just meant he was looking at someone. Appreciation just came with the territory.
Now the man's pretty mouth was opening, to question his presence here, and Kirk realized with a start of impish pleasure that the boy had no idea who he was. He decided to call the younger captain “Jim” in his head, because it sounded both familiar and fond, and he was feeling both. Along with something else. “Who are you?” Jim demanded, clearly confused by the stranger's uniform and rank. “There are no scheduled pick-ups.”
“I wouldn't worry about that, Captain Kirk,” Kirk said smoothly, throwing a patented getting-away-with-it grin-his first line of offense-in the younger man's direction that, without skipping a beat, Jim mirrored instinctively.
Oh, Kirk realized. Of course Jim knew that look, which meant it might not have quite its usual effect--though seeing it mirrored back at him he couldn’t deny its appeal. Kirk tried another, his head tilting ever so slightly, the smile more subtle, his long lashes lowering though not so far that they obscured the glint of gold. And he saw his opponent falter, the confident--make that cocky--grin wavering ever so slightly in the face of what he'd become.
“Wait,” Jim said. “I know you.” Jim searched his mind and came up with some unsettling images from the mind-meld with Spock. He breathed out, an involuntary sound of released awe, and now it was his turn to rake the older man with his eyes. “Oh, wow.”
“I know, right?” Kirk said, stepping off the platform. “You can go, Mr. Leslie.”
The transporter technician, whose name was actually Bernard but was now thinking of changing it, left without a word.
“How did...?”
“Who cares?” Kirk said, with a swagger in Jim's direction, brushing the question off as something Scotty would puzzle over and Spock would figure out. “All I do know is that they'll work out the kinks in less than forty two minutes and I'd just as soon do the same... while I've got the chance.”
“My cabin,” Jim said, with a slightly glazed look Kirk recognized.
It didn't last as long as it usually did on the less-prepared, and the door had barely swooshed shut behind them before Jim had locked and pressed him up against it. The first kiss was only surprising in how well it conformed to Kirk's own opinion of himself, and the confirmation of the pleasure he'd bestowed on so many over the years just aroused him more.
Taking the upper hand, he pushed Jim back against the screen that shielded the bedroom section from the door and proceeded to catalog-in a not-very-systematic way-their similarities and differences. He smirked with pride when a strategically placed hand caused the younger man to gasp and press into it.
“I always thought I looked damn good in uniform,” he said, while incongruously shucking his own. Kirk looked damn good out of it, too, Jim had to admit, despite being older and, you know, heavier. Buff looked good on him, he decided. Hell, he thought in his slightly dazed state, if the man just looked at him like that again he wasn't sure he could answer for the length of the encounter.
Kirk did, and to Jim's relief his own reaction-which was to put his hands anywhere he could, including but not limited to the button of Kirk's trousers-seemed to have exactly the same effect on him. The two men stumbled towards the bed, moving with the synchrony of long-time, but no less enthusiastic, lovers. There were lips and hands everywhere, and teeth, a mixture of raw heat and an odd consideration for the other's pleasure that both thought should have felt odd but couldn't possibly when it felt so good.
Kirk pressed him into the mattress, deftly sliding off the rest of his clothes and somehow simultaneously kissing Jim with captainly insistence, his lips sliding from Jim's to his neck, his collar, his Starfleet-regulation physique and, without even a hint from Jim, his cock. Teasingly, he pulled away, knowing the exact moment to keep Jim on the knife's edge and sliding up his body to murmur in his ear, “your turn.” The command was unmistakable, and Jim shuddered with need as he turned his own mouth to good use.
*
“Your eyes are blue,” Kirk said at last, reclining with perfect nude ease on the captain's bed as if he owned it. He looked relaxed but not at all spent. Jim had a distinct impression that this man walked around without his clothes on all the time, and wondered if he could get away with it, too, and decided he definitely had to just to see if Spock would react.
“Yours aren't,” said Jim, wondering how the man did that twinkly thing with them. It was clearly unnatural. And would have made him kind of jealous if he was any less convinced of his own amazingness, as doubly confirmed by the man before him. “How is that even possible?”
“It looks good on us,” Kirk said irrelevantly. “And who knows? If this is some sort of mirror universe, anything might have altered the genetic mishmash. Something in the water when we were conceived, I don't know.” And clearly didn't care. His eyes traveled the other man's length suggestively. “Luckily everything else seems to be remarkably similar.” The hand he put out to prove it was so familiar and sure in its work that Jim forgot to ponder the vagaries of genetics and was merely thankful for them.
When at length he was emboldened enough to maneuver Kirk onto his back, the older man merely looked up at him in lusty amusement and reached unerringly for the bottle in the top drawer of Jim's bedside table.
“God I'm good,” Kirk sighed, and Jim almost stopped to puzzle out which of them he meant before deciding-aided by the buck of Kirk's body beneath him-that it really didn't matter.
*
As the transporter began its familiar whine, the last thing Kirk saw was his look copied perfectly onto his counterpart's face and he felt more than satisfied that the kid would be all right.
“The kid,” of course, was standing where he'd watched his older self disappear, the glazed look back in place now that the other man wasn't there to see it.
“Finally,” said a voice from the door. Jim swung around, startled to see the older Vulcan watching him with something suspiciously like exasperated amusement. “I was wondering when the event would take place. The only question left in my mind is whether you will be any more able to shut up about it than he.” He turned to go, but not without throwing a last word over his shoulder. “Of course, had I been constantly compared to anyone else, I might have considered it a rather grave insult.”