fanfic, Star Trek XI: Itia Monstrum [part IV]
Title: Itia Monstrum
Author: little_laugh writing journal spider_anansi
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Rating/Warnings: R/NC-17
Summary: Kirk didn't escape from the Delta Vega ice monster completely unscathed, and all the changes are driving him a little crazy - but not nearly so crazy as his sudden possessiveness over Spock
Author's note: Um, sex, swear words, and dub-con (though there is a happy ending in the works, promise). Oh, also eventual mpreg. It's a st_xi_kink meme fill for this prompt.
Shame? What shame?
“Spock,” was all Jim said, and Spock’s ears caught the click-thmp sound of his Captain’s boots as the man stepped forward. Spock immediately whirled around and edged to one side, his face as stiff and impassive as possible.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jim continued, and Spock eyed him warily. There was an unfamiliar expression in the Captain’s eyes; intense and hooded, dark and focused solely on Spock. It was the absolute intensity that threw Spock off for a few moments before he recognized the emotion in his Captain’s eyes - pure, unadulterated lust, dosed liberally with possessiveness and yet, despite the obvious aggression of those emotions the Vulcan was almost certain he also saw tenderness in that gaze…
“Captain, you have carried me off in a most unbecoming manner, and are refusing to let me leave. What else am I to assume but that you mean me harm of some sort?” Spock said, continuing to edge away as Jim paced closer.
“I would never hurt you,” Jim repeated, his voice soft and low, yet earnest and reassuring, as if speaking to some frightened, skittish animal. In a distant part of his mind, Spock could not fault the Captain for his logic in that choice of voice tone - indeed, Spock truly was beginning to feel like that cornered animal the Captain was speaking to.
“Then let me leave, Captain,” Spock said, testing the waters.
Jim actually snarled at the suggestion. “No.”
“Captain - ”
“You can’t leave me,” Jim interrupted, and there was the vaguest hint of desperation at the bottom of his tone, but mostly it was layered with lust and a tender possessiveness. “No, Spock, you can’t go.”
“Captain, I must insist.”
“No, Spock,” Jim said with a shake of his head.
“Captain, there is no logic apparent in this venture of yours. I must assume that you are, then, under the influence of something.”
“Spock, I’m absolutely fine. Just… come here.”
“Once again, I must decline.” Spock took a few steps more, placing the bed between himself and his Captain. “You are in need of medical aid, Sir, and not my presence. If you will release me, I will - “
“Spock, are you… afraid of me?” Jim asked suddenly, pausing in his slow stalking of Spock. He had been gliding across the floor towards Spock, matching the other man’s every movement. The bed was still between them now, but that distance could be easily covered - Spock knew how fast Jim was, now.
“Fear is an unnecessary emotion sir. I am Vulcan. I will admit to being concerned for you in this state - “
“Spock, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” Jim said once again, firmly.
“Captain - “
And apparently Jim had reached his limit for talk, because there was something of a soft growl before the Captain darted forward. Spock jumped to one side, avoiding the outstretched arms, and immediately leaped the bed to the other side - but Jim was turning around, heading back around the bed. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Spock was off again.
They darted around the tables, circled around chairs, dashed past each other and leaped corners of the bed until finally Jim corned Spock at the door. With an exasperated sound - that still managed to come out as a possessive snarl - Jim scooped the Vulcan into his arms, bridal style, cradling the other man close to his chest. Spock struggled for a few moments, still determined to free himself and summon the medical aid his Captain so obviously needed, but there was no escape. Jim’s arms merely tightened, and Spock realized with a sinking sensation - and an odd, tingling thrill - that the Captain truly was stronger than him.
Spock braced himself for whatever would happen next, unsure of what his Captain would do under the influence of whatever had been given to him. The flickers of anger filled the very back of his mind, that someone would something like this to his Captain, strip him of his control and mind.
Jim carried Spock back to the bed, but instead of tossing the man into the middle of the mattress again, he settled them both down on the edge, Spock still cradled in Jim’s arms. Spock noted that though the Captain was employing a very firm hold, he was attempting not to cause undue pain or discomfort. In fact, had it been under any other circumstances, such a position might actually be quite comfortable and enjoyable - and Spock immediately discarded that thought. It was not the time for such things.
And then Spock’s thoughts were derailed by a warm breath on his ear; followed by damp heat surrounding the tip, and sharp teeth nibbling gently on the edges. A silent gasp escaped Spock’s throat, his lips just barely falling open in a soundless breath at the reaction that thrilled through him at those sensations and textures. Not to mention the swirling emotion transmitted through the touch - burning, driving lust, and fiery possessiveness, but also a dominating tenderness and affection 0 and something deep within them all that Spock could not just yet identify and that moved to just outside his comprehension. The potent combination of those all served to render the Vulcan essentially immobile for a time, and when he finally returned to his own mind, Spock found himself laid out on the silky duvet of the bed with Jim sprawled all along the length of him.
It was disconcerting, for a moment, to take into full account the new physical changes in his Captain. Spock had been aware, distantly, of the obvious differences, such as the Captain’s growth spurt, and his speed, but to truly acknowledge that his Captain was now, essentially, bigger than he himself... It was almost disturbing to be smaller than a man who was biologically more fragile, regardless of strength or speed.
His mind briefly cleared, Spock made a motion as if to dislodge the Captain - only to find himself pressed down into the bed. A disgruntled noise escaped the Vulcan’s throat, and his hands quickly came up towards Jim’s shoulders, ready to grasp them and physically force the two of them apart.
Once again, though, Spock found himself at the mercy of Jim’s ‘improvements’ as the Captain snagged Spock’s wrists and pinned them, over Spock’s head, to the bed. Jim raised his head form where he had been mouthing Spock’s neck, and smirked at the pinned Vulcan.
“Now that wouldn’t be any fun,” Jim all but purred. “Can’t have you running away!”
“Captain - ”
And Jim cut Spock off with the soft press of lips to lips, the kiss beginning chaste and gentle and rapidly growing to mess of possession and resistance; tender dominance and a refusal to submit. Spock did not think to break the kiss at first, surprised by the contact - and his own reaction to it. His belly tightened, low in his abdomen, and he could feel his own heart rate pick up (4.63485%, he calculated absently). It was when Jim growled into his mouth that Spock returned once more to his senses, and he wrenched his face to the side, breathing slightly heavier than normal.
Jim, though, was not deterred. He simply moved on to other places, his mouth trailing over the arch of Spock’s cheek to the small dip just before Spock’s ear, along the line of his jaw, down the length of his throat... Spock struggled again though his movements were somewhat less coordinated or as strong as they had been previously.
Could it be possible that whatever had been given to Jim was able to be passed along by skin to skin contact? If so, it could explain the odd lethargy stealing along Spock’s limbs (though he did resist; his Captain needed help, not acquiescence). However, it also made it all the more imperative that Spock reach medical personnel in order to gain aid for them both.
And yet, once more were Spock’s thoughts derailed. This time by the large, warm hand creeping under his shirts, brushing over the flesh of his stomach with roughly calloused skin (though the calluses were just barely starting to soften from months spent in space), and the sudden influx of Jim’s emotions.
It was as the hand began to drag upwards, taking Spock’s shirt with it, that he began to protest and finally managed to get his wrists free from Jim’s grasp. Jim reacted instantly, grabbing Spock’s wrists before they could reach his shoulders, and slammed them back against the bed. Spock tried bucking his hips next, twisting his entire body in an attempt to throw Jim off of him, but Jim anticipated every move and countered them, keeping himself firmly on top of the struggling Vulcan.
Finally, with a growl, Jim transferred both of Spock’s wrists to his left hand (furthering reinforcing to Spock the fact that Jim truly was stronger), reached down with his right hand, and yanked at the collar of Spock’s shirt, ripping the garment easily. The blue fabric fluttered to Spock’s sides, revealing the pale, faintly green-tinged skin beneath. Jim stared down at the chest now bared to him, and Spock felt the undeniable urge to squirm and somehow cover himself - and not just because his Captain was under the influence of something.
“God, Spock, you’re gorgeous,” Jim let out on a moan, the desire in his eyes brightening further until he seemed to have coals housed in his eye sockets, glowing the bright blue of the hottest flames. Spock had no time to reply before Jim had swooped down upon one olive nipple, tongue darting out to flick-flick-flick over it, back and forth, drawing it up into a hard nub of sensation that left Spock strangely breathless. And more breath that Spock did not have in his lungs was forced from him as Jim’s mouth closed over that same nipple, moist heat sucking just one shade light of painful, teeth barely grazing that sensitive flesh.
“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jim panted, the hot breath from his mouth wafting over the damp, now highly sensitized skin. He licked once at Spock’s nipple again, and the Vulcan felt himself involuntarily arch into the touch, just the slightest bit - and repeated the motion again as Jim switched over to the other, as yet unattended nipple and repeated his actions.
As Jim’s mouth busied itself, his free hand wandered the rest of the landscape of Spock’s torso, drawing absent-minded shapes upon the flat planes of his pectorals, moving down to circle on the slight ridges of his abdomen. Soft human fingers gently feathered over Spock’s lower stomach, and the skin there beneath those fingers trembled, just slightly. Jim’s fingers moved towards the slight protrusions of Spock’s hipbones, gliding over them and stroking before moving back to his lower stomach. There was a pause of several moments, as Jim’s hand continued to gently stroke Spock there and his mouth moved easily across his upper torso.
Then Jim’s hand began to snake under the waistband of Spock’s regulation-issue trousers, fingers fluttering against even more sensitive skin.
Spock arched upwards, and Jim lifted his head from where it had busied itself again with the Vulcan’s nipples to grin victoriously down at the man held beneath him.
“Though you’d like that,” Jim murmured, and there was something animalistic to the words and the tone, yet a thread of tenderness and care worked their ways into his voice, as well. “Come on, Spock, just let go - I’ll make it so good for you.”
And Jim bent his head, mouthing along Spock’s neck now, and the emotions and thoughts that had been feeding into Spock’s mind had him in something of a frenzy now, torn between giving in to this whirlwind that was Jim Kirk, and holding out to get the help his Captain needed. Though he would hardly admit it, Spock felt the very fringes of panic beat away at the back of his mind - panic that he could not help his Captain, and panic that part of his did not want to help the Captain, but instead wanted this madness to continue. There was a small, deep well of shame in Spock’s center that he could feel himself loosening, becoming warm and soft and damp and pliant under Jim’s ministrations. And that only added to Spock’s panic; he had never yet found someone who would make this special aspect of his biology activate.
So why now? Why his Captain, why Jim?
And why like this?
“Spock, stop fighting me.”
Jim’s voice broke through Spock’s thoughts, brought him back to the present situation. Darkening brown eyes stared up at burning blue eyes, eyes that were both devouring him and trying to comfort him - such a dichotomous attempt...
“Don’t fight me, Spock,” Jim repeated. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
And Jim’s grasp on Spock’s wrists weakened, and Spock took advantage of that fact - and the tenderness in his Captain’s eyes.
Author: little_laugh writing journal spider_anansi
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Rating/Warnings: R/NC-17
Summary: Kirk didn't escape from the Delta Vega ice monster completely unscathed, and all the changes are driving him a little crazy - but not nearly so crazy as his sudden possessiveness over Spock
Author's note: Um, sex, swear words, and dub-con (though there is a happy ending in the works, promise). Oh, also eventual mpreg. It's a st_xi_kink meme fill for this prompt.
Shame? What shame?
“Spock,” was all Jim said, and Spock’s ears caught the click-thmp sound of his Captain’s boots as the man stepped forward. Spock immediately whirled around and edged to one side, his face as stiff and impassive as possible.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jim continued, and Spock eyed him warily. There was an unfamiliar expression in the Captain’s eyes; intense and hooded, dark and focused solely on Spock. It was the absolute intensity that threw Spock off for a few moments before he recognized the emotion in his Captain’s eyes - pure, unadulterated lust, dosed liberally with possessiveness and yet, despite the obvious aggression of those emotions the Vulcan was almost certain he also saw tenderness in that gaze…
“Captain, you have carried me off in a most unbecoming manner, and are refusing to let me leave. What else am I to assume but that you mean me harm of some sort?” Spock said, continuing to edge away as Jim paced closer.
“I would never hurt you,” Jim repeated, his voice soft and low, yet earnest and reassuring, as if speaking to some frightened, skittish animal. In a distant part of his mind, Spock could not fault the Captain for his logic in that choice of voice tone - indeed, Spock truly was beginning to feel like that cornered animal the Captain was speaking to.
“Then let me leave, Captain,” Spock said, testing the waters.
Jim actually snarled at the suggestion. “No.”
“Captain - ”
“You can’t leave me,” Jim interrupted, and there was the vaguest hint of desperation at the bottom of his tone, but mostly it was layered with lust and a tender possessiveness. “No, Spock, you can’t go.”
“Captain, I must insist.”
“No, Spock,” Jim said with a shake of his head.
“Captain, there is no logic apparent in this venture of yours. I must assume that you are, then, under the influence of something.”
“Spock, I’m absolutely fine. Just… come here.”
“Once again, I must decline.” Spock took a few steps more, placing the bed between himself and his Captain. “You are in need of medical aid, Sir, and not my presence. If you will release me, I will - “
“Spock, are you… afraid of me?” Jim asked suddenly, pausing in his slow stalking of Spock. He had been gliding across the floor towards Spock, matching the other man’s every movement. The bed was still between them now, but that distance could be easily covered - Spock knew how fast Jim was, now.
“Fear is an unnecessary emotion sir. I am Vulcan. I will admit to being concerned for you in this state - “
“Spock, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” Jim said once again, firmly.
“Captain - “
And apparently Jim had reached his limit for talk, because there was something of a soft growl before the Captain darted forward. Spock jumped to one side, avoiding the outstretched arms, and immediately leaped the bed to the other side - but Jim was turning around, heading back around the bed. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Spock was off again.
They darted around the tables, circled around chairs, dashed past each other and leaped corners of the bed until finally Jim corned Spock at the door. With an exasperated sound - that still managed to come out as a possessive snarl - Jim scooped the Vulcan into his arms, bridal style, cradling the other man close to his chest. Spock struggled for a few moments, still determined to free himself and summon the medical aid his Captain so obviously needed, but there was no escape. Jim’s arms merely tightened, and Spock realized with a sinking sensation - and an odd, tingling thrill - that the Captain truly was stronger than him.
Spock braced himself for whatever would happen next, unsure of what his Captain would do under the influence of whatever had been given to him. The flickers of anger filled the very back of his mind, that someone would something like this to his Captain, strip him of his control and mind.
Jim carried Spock back to the bed, but instead of tossing the man into the middle of the mattress again, he settled them both down on the edge, Spock still cradled in Jim’s arms. Spock noted that though the Captain was employing a very firm hold, he was attempting not to cause undue pain or discomfort. In fact, had it been under any other circumstances, such a position might actually be quite comfortable and enjoyable - and Spock immediately discarded that thought. It was not the time for such things.
And then Spock’s thoughts were derailed by a warm breath on his ear; followed by damp heat surrounding the tip, and sharp teeth nibbling gently on the edges. A silent gasp escaped Spock’s throat, his lips just barely falling open in a soundless breath at the reaction that thrilled through him at those sensations and textures. Not to mention the swirling emotion transmitted through the touch - burning, driving lust, and fiery possessiveness, but also a dominating tenderness and affection 0 and something deep within them all that Spock could not just yet identify and that moved to just outside his comprehension. The potent combination of those all served to render the Vulcan essentially immobile for a time, and when he finally returned to his own mind, Spock found himself laid out on the silky duvet of the bed with Jim sprawled all along the length of him.
It was disconcerting, for a moment, to take into full account the new physical changes in his Captain. Spock had been aware, distantly, of the obvious differences, such as the Captain’s growth spurt, and his speed, but to truly acknowledge that his Captain was now, essentially, bigger than he himself... It was almost disturbing to be smaller than a man who was biologically more fragile, regardless of strength or speed.
His mind briefly cleared, Spock made a motion as if to dislodge the Captain - only to find himself pressed down into the bed. A disgruntled noise escaped the Vulcan’s throat, and his hands quickly came up towards Jim’s shoulders, ready to grasp them and physically force the two of them apart.
Once again, though, Spock found himself at the mercy of Jim’s ‘improvements’ as the Captain snagged Spock’s wrists and pinned them, over Spock’s head, to the bed. Jim raised his head form where he had been mouthing Spock’s neck, and smirked at the pinned Vulcan.
“Now that wouldn’t be any fun,” Jim all but purred. “Can’t have you running away!”
“Captain - ”
And Jim cut Spock off with the soft press of lips to lips, the kiss beginning chaste and gentle and rapidly growing to mess of possession and resistance; tender dominance and a refusal to submit. Spock did not think to break the kiss at first, surprised by the contact - and his own reaction to it. His belly tightened, low in his abdomen, and he could feel his own heart rate pick up (4.63485%, he calculated absently). It was when Jim growled into his mouth that Spock returned once more to his senses, and he wrenched his face to the side, breathing slightly heavier than normal.
Jim, though, was not deterred. He simply moved on to other places, his mouth trailing over the arch of Spock’s cheek to the small dip just before Spock’s ear, along the line of his jaw, down the length of his throat... Spock struggled again though his movements were somewhat less coordinated or as strong as they had been previously.
Could it be possible that whatever had been given to Jim was able to be passed along by skin to skin contact? If so, it could explain the odd lethargy stealing along Spock’s limbs (though he did resist; his Captain needed help, not acquiescence). However, it also made it all the more imperative that Spock reach medical personnel in order to gain aid for them both.
And yet, once more were Spock’s thoughts derailed. This time by the large, warm hand creeping under his shirts, brushing over the flesh of his stomach with roughly calloused skin (though the calluses were just barely starting to soften from months spent in space), and the sudden influx of Jim’s emotions.
It was as the hand began to drag upwards, taking Spock’s shirt with it, that he began to protest and finally managed to get his wrists free from Jim’s grasp. Jim reacted instantly, grabbing Spock’s wrists before they could reach his shoulders, and slammed them back against the bed. Spock tried bucking his hips next, twisting his entire body in an attempt to throw Jim off of him, but Jim anticipated every move and countered them, keeping himself firmly on top of the struggling Vulcan.
Finally, with a growl, Jim transferred both of Spock’s wrists to his left hand (furthering reinforcing to Spock the fact that Jim truly was stronger), reached down with his right hand, and yanked at the collar of Spock’s shirt, ripping the garment easily. The blue fabric fluttered to Spock’s sides, revealing the pale, faintly green-tinged skin beneath. Jim stared down at the chest now bared to him, and Spock felt the undeniable urge to squirm and somehow cover himself - and not just because his Captain was under the influence of something.
“God, Spock, you’re gorgeous,” Jim let out on a moan, the desire in his eyes brightening further until he seemed to have coals housed in his eye sockets, glowing the bright blue of the hottest flames. Spock had no time to reply before Jim had swooped down upon one olive nipple, tongue darting out to flick-flick-flick over it, back and forth, drawing it up into a hard nub of sensation that left Spock strangely breathless. And more breath that Spock did not have in his lungs was forced from him as Jim’s mouth closed over that same nipple, moist heat sucking just one shade light of painful, teeth barely grazing that sensitive flesh.
“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jim panted, the hot breath from his mouth wafting over the damp, now highly sensitized skin. He licked once at Spock’s nipple again, and the Vulcan felt himself involuntarily arch into the touch, just the slightest bit - and repeated the motion again as Jim switched over to the other, as yet unattended nipple and repeated his actions.
As Jim’s mouth busied itself, his free hand wandered the rest of the landscape of Spock’s torso, drawing absent-minded shapes upon the flat planes of his pectorals, moving down to circle on the slight ridges of his abdomen. Soft human fingers gently feathered over Spock’s lower stomach, and the skin there beneath those fingers trembled, just slightly. Jim’s fingers moved towards the slight protrusions of Spock’s hipbones, gliding over them and stroking before moving back to his lower stomach. There was a pause of several moments, as Jim’s hand continued to gently stroke Spock there and his mouth moved easily across his upper torso.
Then Jim’s hand began to snake under the waistband of Spock’s regulation-issue trousers, fingers fluttering against even more sensitive skin.
Spock arched upwards, and Jim lifted his head from where it had busied itself again with the Vulcan’s nipples to grin victoriously down at the man held beneath him.
“Though you’d like that,” Jim murmured, and there was something animalistic to the words and the tone, yet a thread of tenderness and care worked their ways into his voice, as well. “Come on, Spock, just let go - I’ll make it so good for you.”
And Jim bent his head, mouthing along Spock’s neck now, and the emotions and thoughts that had been feeding into Spock’s mind had him in something of a frenzy now, torn between giving in to this whirlwind that was Jim Kirk, and holding out to get the help his Captain needed. Though he would hardly admit it, Spock felt the very fringes of panic beat away at the back of his mind - panic that he could not help his Captain, and panic that part of his did not want to help the Captain, but instead wanted this madness to continue. There was a small, deep well of shame in Spock’s center that he could feel himself loosening, becoming warm and soft and damp and pliant under Jim’s ministrations. And that only added to Spock’s panic; he had never yet found someone who would make this special aspect of his biology activate.
So why now? Why his Captain, why Jim?
And why like this?
“Spock, stop fighting me.”
Jim’s voice broke through Spock’s thoughts, brought him back to the present situation. Darkening brown eyes stared up at burning blue eyes, eyes that were both devouring him and trying to comfort him - such a dichotomous attempt...
“Don’t fight me, Spock,” Jim repeated. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
And Jim’s grasp on Spock’s wrists weakened, and Spock took advantage of that fact - and the tenderness in his Captain’s eyes.