Ship Olympics: Event 2: Team Spork
Title: Turn Not Back
Creator: ladyblahblah
Universe: Reboot
Word Count: 7831
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pon farr hits and Spock finds himself without a mate. Except . . . wait, when did that happen? Accidental!bonding fic.
Disclaimer: One day I will complete my time machine, go back to the '60s and convince Gene Roddenberry to sign over the Trek franchise to me. Unfortunately, until that day I'm afraid that I own nothing but the plot, which isn't even making me any profit. *sigh*
“Damn it, Jim!” McCoy snarled. Trails of sweat cut through the dirt that covered his face, but he made no move to wipe them away; his hands were red to the wrist and pressed firmly against the captain's abdomen. “I swear to god, if you die on me I will kill you. Spock, talk to me here, I need information.”
“Respiration and cardiac rates are falling. The blow to his head was worse than we originally surmised, as well.” Spock's voice was cool and calm, a direct contrast to his white-knuckled grip on the tricorder. “His brain activity appears to be weakening.”
McCoy let out a stream of vicious curses. “I can give him trianoline for the concussion, but his system can't take more than half a normal dose of netinaline. It'll help keep him with us, but only for a few minutes. Damn it, I need more time!”
“Administer the netinaline, Doctor,” Spock said, dropping the tricorder in the dust and reaching towards the captain's face. “I will secure you the time you require.”
“Are you insane?” McCoy shouted. “You can't risk a meld with him in this state; if something happens you might never be able to pull out of it!”
“That is a risk that I will have to take.”
“Spock-for god's sake man, you could die!”
“As a Starfleet officer, I must guard my captain's life even at the expense of my own.” Spock's eyes met the doctor's for a brief, furious second. “It is my duty, and I will not abandon it now.”
He didn't wait for a response, merely slid his fingers into place. For a moment the blood that leaked from Jim's temple was slick against his skin, and smoke from the wreck of the shuttlecraft stung his eyes and throat. Then his mind opened, and the world slid away.
Spock could feel the moment the drug took effect as Jim's mind seemed to sharpen and tighten around him. He seized at it with all his mental strength, turning himself into an anchor for the human consciousness. The captain's mind, usually so bright, so strong, was too weak to hold on in return. There could be no help from his side, and Spock felt him begin to slip away again as Spock's own hold faltered.
A grip on the edges of his consciousness was not enough. If he wished to be successful, Spock needed to go deeper, to find the center of the captain's mind and stabilize it. The captain was drugged, concussed, bleeding out; logic clearly indicated that the risk outweighed the potential benefit of a deeper connection. Every moment brought Jim Kirk closer to death, and the deeper he went the greater the chance that Spock would die with him.
The captain's mind began to slip.
Spock took a deep mental breath, and dove after it.
*******************************
“Attention, attention please!” Jim waited for the chatter to stop, smiling down the table at his crew. “Now, you all know I'm not a big fan of speeches, but I want to thank everyone for making it tonight. It's been an incredible three years so far; now we've got three weeks to forget that we're sick of the sight of each other.” There was a general round of laughter and eye rolling. “Before we scatter to the winds, I'd like to take this moment to point out that it's the first time we've all been off-duty at the same time, and I for one hope not to remember a moment of it tomorrow morning.” He raised his glass. “Here's to a relaxing shore leave.”
“To Leonard's best hangover cures,” Gaila chimed in with a wink.
“To getting the Admiralty to approve my request to oversee the Enterprise's repairs,” Scotty called from the other end of the table.
“To three weeks without flashing people every time you try to sit down,” Uhura offered dryly, earning a cheer from Gaila and Christine and disappointed groans from the men.
“To the best crew I could've asked for,” Jim finished. “Here's to all of you.”
He sat back down amidst hollers and cheers and calls for more drinks and carefully looked past his best friend to offer Gaila his most charming smile. “So, gorgeous, you haven't told me yet what you have planned for the next few weeks.”
“Ny's invited me to her family's place for the first week,” she said excitedly. “I've never been to Africa before, and you know Dakar is supposed to be just beautiful. The rest of the time . . . well.” She glanced over at Bones with a nervous little smile curving up her lips. “I'm going to be in Georgia.”
“Finally gonna get to meet Jo, huh?” Jim raised his eyebrows. “Big step.”
“I know. I'm nervous about it, to be honest. Excited, too, but-”
“I've told you,” Bones interrupted, reaching out to take her hand, “she's gonna love you. Hell, she's half there already; she asks about you in her letters more than she asks about me.”
“I want her to like me,” Gaila said helplessly, and Jim couldn't help but grin.
“I wouldn't worry too much. Her favorite color's already green, after all.”
Gaila laughed and Bones rolled his eyes, and Chekov spoke up from his seat on the other side of Sulu. “Vhat are your plans, Keptin? You have not said.”
“I'll be doing some traveling. See where I end up.”
“Starfleet Command,” Spock began, breaking off from his conversation with Scotty but Jim just held up a hand.
“-has no say in how I spend my legally-required shore leave, so long as I'm keeping my nose clean. I'll check in every few days or so, let Bones know where I am in case of an emergency.”
One dark, slanted eyebrow winged up. “And why, may I ask, have you chosen Dr. McCoy to be in sole possession of your whereabouts?”
“Because he's the only person I know who wants his shore leave interrupted even less than I do,” Jim smirked, “and he knows that if Command hauls me back in I'm taking him with me.”
“Yeah, his secret's safe with me,” Bones said with a scowl. “Doesn't mean I have to like it,” he went on in an undertone as the others' attention turned away again.
“I'll be fine,” Jim promised. “It's not like this is the first time I've done this, you know.”
“Oh I know. Except that last time you didn't contact anyone for a week and a half, and when you finally turned up again you'd managed to break your damn arm and nearly go into anaphylactic shock from the pain meds you'd been given.”
“That was different.” Jim picked up his glass, put it down again. “I had to . . .” He glanced down the table to where Spock was arguing over something with Chekov and Scotty. “I had to get away for a while. You know that. But that was over a year ago, and it's not like I've had any mind-shattering realizations that are going to make me act like an idiot this time.”
“That's bullshit,” Bones said flatly. “You've been even twitchier around him than ever since Boranis III, and now you're running again. We both know it.” He glanced down the table as well. “Why don't you just tell him-”
“Drop it, Bones,” Jim said sharply. “I'm not going over all of this again.”
For a moment it seemed that Bones would argue, but in the end he simply sighed and fixed Jim with his best scowl. “Make sure you refill your cervaline prescription before you leave, and don't forget to actually take it just because I'm not there to pester you about it.”
“It's been two months already,” Jim complained. “When am I gonna get taken off these damn meds?”
“When your doctor gives you a clean bill of health, and not before. Of course, if I could trust that you were somewhere your health could be properly monitored-”
“You don't have to worry about me, Bones,” Jim smiled. “I just . . . need to get away. I need some time to deal with things.”
That was all he needed, he assured himself as he let his crew's excitement wash over him. He glanced down the table again, shivering as the constant humming at the back of his mind grew stronger when his eyes landed on Spock.
He just had to get away.
*******************************
“-so we ended up just jumping on the next shuttle to San Francisco, and here we are!” Nyota's smile faded when he did not respond. “Spock?” She reached out, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Spock!”
“There is no need to raise your voice,” Spock said, reaching for his tea to cover his instinctive flinch.
“Right.” Nyota sat back, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you been listening to a word I've said?”
“As fascinating as your travel plans certainly are, I would remind you that some of us have chosen to spend our leave time in a productive pursuit,” Spock replied stiffly. “I am afraid that my full attention can not be-”
“Save it.” Nyota cut him off with a single raised hand and a look of icy disdain that would have made a Vulcan woman proud. “You can lie to me if you want, but don't talk down to me and don't treat me like I'm stupid.”
“Vulcans are incapable of lying.” Spock was shocked to hear what very nearly sounded like petulance in his voice, but Nyota just rolled her eyes.
“Prevaricating, then. Deliberately obfuscating.” She dropped her arms and leaned forward again, her eyes softening in concern. “Why do you think I came here, Spock? Why do you think I paid for a same-day transport to San Francisco when Chris was supposed to be meeting me at home in two days? It's not like I came here for the weather, you know.”
Spock conceded the point with a nod. A preference for warmer climates had always been something that he and Nyota agreed on. “I confess that I am at something of a loss as to why you are here.”
“I'm worried about you,” Nyota said bluntly. “You practically bit my head off when we talked a few days ago, and Chris says that she's heard about you snapping at at least three different cadets since your class started.”
Spock felt irritation boil up inside of him and tried futilely to suppress it. “Gossip is hardly conduct becoming a Starfleet officer, and Ensign Chapel should not-”
“You know as well as I do that the Academy's a small place; you can't honestly think that emotional displays from its resident Vulcan are going to go unnoticed.” When Spock said nothing to that, she pressed on. “I haven't seen you like this since . . .” She faltered for a moment before visibly firming her resolve. “Since the last time you were emotionally compromised.”
“My next class in less than an hour.” Spock tried to ignore the furious rush of blood in his ears as he pushed back from the table. “I am afraid that I must cut our conversation short.”
“Is this about Jim?” she pressed, and jumped back when Spock's hand slammed down onto the table.
“I have not requested either your interference or your concern,” he snarled. “If I require your assistance I shall ask for it; until that time, do not presume to comment on subjects that you could not possibly comprehend.”
Spock straightened again with a growing sense of horror. For the first time in their acquaintance, Nyota looked afraid of him. He could not blame her; he could hardly believe his own actions. He straightened again and clenched his fists against the anger that still burned hot in his veins.
“My apologies,” he managed. “I . . . I regret that I will not be able to join you and Ensign Chapel for dinner tonight after all. Please excuse me.”
There was a chill drizzle falling outside, but Spock chose to walk rather than endure the crowds of strangers availing themselves of the city's public transit. He would have to contact Admiral Pike, he thought dimly. Even the most cursory examination of his mental shields-something that he had, he admitted to himself, avoided in the five point seven days since his return to Earth-revealed what he already knew.
He was indeed emotionally compromised, and far past the point of being able to rectify the problem himself. The rest of his guest lectures would have to be canceled; he could not remain at the Academy in such a state. He would go to New Vulcan and see a Healer, something that his father had been urging him to do for some time. Spock, however, had not been able to accept the idea of granting another access to his mind.
His thoughts strayed, as they had done so often of late, to Jim. Spock would gladly open himself to Jim, to the warm, golden haven of that vibrant Human mind. The idea of it haunted him, enticing as nothing else in his experience had ever been, and with every recollection of its impossibility Spock's control fractured that much more. Jim had no desire to so much as see him during their leave, Spock reminded himself sharply; he had disappeared into the horde of other Federation travelers at the first opportunity. It was hardly surprising, as determined as he had been to avoid Spock since he had woken in Sickbay with Spock's mind still carefully wrapped around his. Even if Spock were to seek Jim out, he would not-
He cut off the thought as soon as it began. Jim was not a trained Healer; despite what Spock wished, he could not help the current situation.
At least, Spock reflected as the cold rain hit his face, on New Vulcan he would finally be warm again.
*******************************
Jim woke in a cold sweat, rock hard and trembling and still half-convinced that he could feel Spock's weight pinning him to the mattress. He could still feel Spock inside him, feel hot breath bathing his face and slim hips rutting roughly into him again and again. He reached down and wrapped his fist tight around his own cock, bringing himself off in barely two full strokes.
Sticky and shivering, Jim collapsed back into the pillows as he struggled to even out his breathing. These dreams were getting ridiculous. They had started almost a week ago, vague and formless at first, just enough to lend a delicious sense of urgency to his customary morning release. As time went on, however, he found himself recognizing the large, strong hands and fierce brown eyes of his dream lover, and it wasn't long at all before he was waking up with Spock's name a half-formed whimper on his lips.
It wasn't limited to sleep anymore, either. He'd begun to have daydreams so vivid that it was getting hard to tell what was real and what was only in his head. More than once he'd found himself startled back into awareness of his surroundings, genuinely surprised to find himself alone. He half-expected to find Spock waiting every time he turned a corner, to feel hot arms wrap around him from behind whenever he didn't have a wall at his back. It was an itch between his shoulder blades, a constant sense of pursuit that never allowed him to relax.
There was a buzzing sensation beneath his skin, like the beginnings of an adrenaline rush, and Jim knew he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. Instead he threw off the covers, shivering, and padded across the dark room to adjust the environmental controls. He'd leave in the morning, he decided; he needed someplace warmer. In the meantime he turned the temperature up another five degrees and headed for the shower.
He was already hard again by the time he stepped under the hot water. With the water up as hot as he could stand, he braced his forearm against the wall and rested his head against it. With his mind firmly fixed on the physical-the beat of the water against his back, the thick steam beginning to clog his lungs, his breath fogging against the tiles as his breathing grew heavier-he wrapped a fist around his cock and stroked himself to a swift, hard climax.
Jim let the hot water rinse the sweat and semen from his skin as a series of fine tremors shivered down his spine. The aftershocks of orgasm, he told himself, but he couldn't ignore the way the hairs at the back of his neck were rising, or the tension that was already flooding his body again. He wrenched off the water and snatched a towel from the rack.
No need to wait until morning, he thought as he scrubbed himself dry. He'd leave now.
*******************************
Spock stared at the ticket in his hand, struggling against a rising sense of panic.
The spaceport was quiet, only a handful of other travelers waiting in the immediate vicinity. Few people had seemed inclined to venture through this particular stretch of space since the Battle of Vulcan; Spock himself had not been back since the day his planet had been destroyed, despite several offers from the scientific research team investigating the area. He had no wish to be there now. By all rights, he should have been on New Vulcan, already on his way to one of the healing temples. Instead, he found himself disembarking on Canopus III with no recollection of how he got there.
He could not, he realized with a sinking feeling, remember actually buying the ticket. The entire span of time from when he had accessed a terminal to when he had boarded the transport was a blank, and most disturbing of all he had not so much as registered the inconsistency until now. He had begun with such a sense of certainty, almost a serenity that had disappeared by halfway through the trip, leaving him even edgier and more irritable than before.
Spock could no longer ignore the evidence: shortened temper, heightened sensitivity to touch, memory loss. The diagnosis was nearly as terrifying as the symptoms, but pretending otherwise would not make the fact of the matter change.
It was all the more imperative now that he make it to New Vulcan. T'Pring had died when Vulcan was destroyed, but Spock's father and the rest of his surviving clan members would be able to find him a mate. The wave of disgust and fury that swept through him at the thought was nearly unbearable. He did not want a stranger's body, a stranger's mind to ease him through his Time. He could not endure it, would not, he wanted-
Spock cut that thought short before he could finish it. What he wanted was irrelevant; what he needed was the priority. Over the past three years a great many Vulcans had found their cycles thrown into chaos, the mating instinct triggered by their race's near extinction complicated by missing bondmates and the mass relocation effort. Based on his current trajectory, Spock hypothesized that, bondless himself, his mind was propelling him towards the space where Vulcan had once existed. If he was going to make it to New Vulcan before his time ran out, he would have to attempt to correct the error.
Unwilling to spare the time necessary to secure a solitary space, Spock simply chose a seat in the nearly-abandoned lounge. It would be quiet enough to suit his purposes, at least as far as performing a preliminary diagnostic. He closed his eyes and centered his thoughts, struggling as never before to move past his own physical awareness.
He had erected heavy shields around his broken bond when T'Pring had died, unwilling to expose the rest of his consciousness to the agony of the severed link and the compulsion to bond again that would almost certainly follow. It was those shields, he believed, that kept him from maintaining full awareness when his mating drive began to determine his actions. They would have to come down if he wished to regain full control. Focusing all of his available will, he sent the shields scattering. For a moment, nothing. And then-
Jim. His scent, the coolness of his skin, the intoxicating warmth of his thoughts-it suffused Spock's mind in the space of a breath. The sense of him was so strong that he might have been in front of Spock at that very moment, waiting only for his mate to reach out and claim him.
His mate.
Spock.
Jim.
Spock's eyes shot open, already scanning the room. Jim was not there. His mate was not there.
There was a bond where there should have been emptiness, a link to Jim that should not have been possible. Spock had only touched his mind a handful of times, and though he had thought each meld indelibly engraved in his memory they all seemed to blend together now in a haze of remembered bliss. Melding with Jim had always been exceptional, had always made Spock wish that he might never have to leave. Apparently at some point, his emotional state had overpowered his better judgement. He had bonded them, and now did not even know how or when he had done so.
This was what had been pulling him off-course, Spock realized as he surged to his feet. Why the thought of going to another repulsed him so. However it had happened, he already had a mate. And whatever it took, Spock would find him.
The possibility that Jim might not be alone was swiftly pushed away. If that was the case, Spock would deal with the telsu pi'tak when he found them. For the first time in his life, Spock knew that he could kill without question; he would end any creature that attempted to take Jim from him, would snap the interloper's neck and claim his mate before the body had even gone cold. The violence that threatened to erupt in him at the mere thought was terrifying, but there was nothing to be done. When the time came, Spock knew, what happened would happen. For now, he focused on the tug at the back of his mind.
Jim was waiting.
*******************************
"Jesus, Jim, you look like hell.”
“Then I look like I feel.” Jim wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I'm sorry for getting you out of bed, but . . . Bones, I think something is really wrong with me.”
Any remaining bleariness vanished as Bones's entire face seemed to sharpen in sudden attention. “What's wrong?”
“I'm sweating all the time, but I don't feel warm. I feel like I'm freezing. I've been to four different planets since I left Earth, the last two of which have been ninety percent desert, and they've all been too fucking cold. I can't sleep more than a couple of hours a night. It feels like I'm being watched, like there are eyes on me all the damn time.” He scrubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “It sounds crazy. Hell, I feel crazy. I . . .”
“You what?”
Jim shook his head, eyes darting away. “Nothing. It's nothing.”
Bones looked skeptical but he didn't press, and Jim felt himself sag in relief. He couldn't tell Bones the rest; couldn't tell him that he was hard almost all the time now, that he'd wake up feeling alone and trapped and empty, that he'd started to feel like he'd go mad if he didn't get something inside of him. He certainly couldn't tell his friend that he had bought half a dozen sex toys in the past week, or that digging his fingernails hard into his thigh was the only thing grounding him enough to keep from cutting off the call, climbing into bed and fucking himself until he passed out. Again.
“-see a doctor,” Bones was saying, and Jim flushed when he realized that he had drifted into his own world again. He shook himself and tried to focus.
“Why do you think I'm calling you?” he demanded. “Look, you know I don't want to screw with your leave time, but please, you've gotta check me out. I feel like I'm losing my mind here.”
“I meant a doctor there, Jim. If things are as bad as you say, just-”
“No. No, no, no, no.” Jim felt his eyes growing wide, his terror and disgust at the idea so strong that he had actually begun to shake. “I can't, I can't, the thought of someone touching me, I-”
“Okay!” Bones held up his hands, his own eyes widening in helpless concern. “It's okay, Jim, just calm down.”
“I can't do it, Bones.”
“All right.” The doctor hesitated. “Jim, if you can make it here you know I'll look you over, but . . . you know I'll have to touch you for an examination, right?”
“That's different.” Jim took a deep breath. “You're . . . family. You're practically family. It's different.” It didn't make any sense, but simply saying the words aloud helped calm him.
“How soon can you get here?”
“I'm halfway back already, stuck on this god-forsaken space station.” Jim's fingers trembled as he called up the information he had accessed on his PADD. “There's a ship coming in tonight that has a good record of express runs between here and Earth, and it's listed as willing to take on passengers. I figure if I pay the captain enough he'll take me back; I should be able to get there in three days if we leave tomorrow morning.”
“Damn it. All right. You keep me updated if you can manage subspace calls while you're aboard, understand?”
“I'll do my best. Thanks.”
Bones just grunted. “Try to get some rest. And document your condition on the way here if you're up to it. If you're not, find someone else to do it for you, I mean it. Now try to get some rest.”
Jim nodded as he severed the call, but he knew it would be a useless attempt. He felt wired and restless, and god, so empty. He had been on his hands and knees less than an hour ago, face pressed into the mattress as he rocked his hips back against the thick vibrator he was working inside of him. It hadn't been enough still, so close but not quite what he needed, not until his mind had drifted back to Spock again. The thought of him fucking Jim just like that, the fact that Jim could practically feel Spock behind him, had made him come almost immediately.
Jim had been attracted to Spock almost since he'd first seen him; several months after that he had realized that Spock was one of his best friends; a year ago Jim had been terrified to realize that his feelings weren't going to go away. The wanting was nothing new. But Jim had never been this single-minded, never been incapable of thinking of anything but Spock fucking him raw and-
He checked the ship's information again. The Prospect was due to dock in about twenty minutes and depart again at 0800. That left Jim with just over twelve hours left to wait.
Fuck that, he thought, and stood, shivering as he dropped the blanket. He'd meet the ship when it docked and talk to the captain then. It wasn't like he had anything better to spend his Starfleet salary on; whatever it cost, he was getting out of here and on his way back to Earth tonight.
The corridors were cold, even dressed as he was in clothes better suited for Delta Vega than for the planets he had visited. The Prospect had logged its transporters as being non-operational, which meant that transport between ship and station would have to be done via shuttlecraft. He would head to the shuttlebay, he decided, and try to talk his way into transport onto the ship so that he could speak with the captain directly. He certainly wasn't in any shape to make a positive impression over a vidscreen, but if he could plead his case-and offer his credits-in person, then he figured he might have a chance.
Jim walked quickly, taking the longer way around the station in order to avoid the more heavily populated areas; just the thought of being around people made him want to bolt for cover. Every face had begun to seem threatening; he had spent the two days since his arrival almost exclusively in his quarters, unable to bear the uneasy sense of exposure that shivered down his spine whenever he was in public.
One of the Prospect's shuttles had landed and was just opening its doors when Jim arrived, and his heart kicked into overdrive. His stomach began to flutter with a familiar sense of anticipation. Gut instinct, he always told Spock, something that his Vulcan XO dismissed out of hand but that Jim had come to trust implicitly. This ship was going to help him; he no longer had any doubt. Maybe, he thought, once Bones had fixed him up he would drop by to visit Spock. Not before. Jim was half-hard just at the thought of him; if he actually saw Spock while he was in this state there was no telling what-
His mind ground to a stuttering halt as Spock stepped out of the shuttle as if summoned by Jim's thoughts. Another Vulcan followed close behind him, a fact that Jim barely had time to register before his entire world seemed to narrow down to Spock's eyes locked on his.
Jim was shaking, torn between the terror of the hunted and the almost overwhelming urge to jump Spock and just fucking take him then and there. He could imagine it with almost painful clarity-the sound of Spock's robes tearing beneath his hands, the feel of his lips, the heat of him, and he was so close, just a few quick steps and Jim could have him. Hard and fast and violent and good, so good he wanted he needed oh god he burned. He had to have Spock now, buried inside him and to hell with anyone watching. Better for them to watch, to know that Spock was taken, claimed, Jim's. His body tensed, ready to spring.
He couldn't.
Spock wasn't his; he didn't have the right. So with the very last shred of his control, Jim did the only thing left for him to do.
He ran.
A snarl ripped through the air behind him but Jim was already tearing through the corridors back the way he had come. This was what he had been waiting for, he knew somehow, what had been setting his nerves on edge for over a week now. Spock running him down, footsteps pounding after him that echoed in the savage pulse of Jim's blood, and now that it was happening the fear was gone, evaporated as if it had never been. He ran so that Spock would prove himself, ran to make Spock chase him. The footsteps grew closer all the time, and Spock would catch him soon.
Spock would catch him, and then they would see.
Jim reached the door to his quarters and skidded to a stop, cursing under his breath when it remained stubbornly closed. His fingers were still scrambling over the keypad, trying to disengage the automatic privacy locks when Spock rounded the corner after him. With an extra burst of speed he reached Jim just before he could finish, hands clamped like vises around Jim's shoulders and eyes blown nearly black. A fresh burst of adrenaline hit Jim's system and he tore himself out of Spock's grasp, shoving hard at his chest for good measure. Jim heard Spock's body hit the opposite wall as he spun back around to key in the final three numbers and the door slid open with a quiet hiss.
He had barely taken a step before Spock was on him again. His arms were locked around Jim's waist now, his mouth latched onto the back of Jim's neck where he was kissing and biting down hard enough to mark. Jim's eyes rolled back in his head and he shifted back against Spock's body seeking more contact, only to twist and try to jerk out of Spock's arms a second later. Spock simply growled against his skin and tightened his grip. He began to move forward, pushing them along together until Jim's shins hit the edge of the bed and sent him tumbling down with Spock on top of him.
The room seemed to spin as Spock flipped him over and he found himself pinned with his back to the mattress, the warmth of Spock's body sinking into Jim's heat-starved skin. Caught and contained, the urge to escape drained out of Jim all at once. He was almost dizzy, unable to keep up with his own shifting mental state, from fear to exhilaration to lust. For just a moment he struggled against it, trying to assert some control over what he was feeling. Then Spock settled more firmly between his legs and Jim's mind emptied of everything but blind, consuming need.
The sound of ripping fabric seemed to echo off the walls as Spock tore at Jim's clothes. His touch went from rough to delicate and back again, fingertips stroking lightly over Jim's skin before his palms flattened against Jim's ribs, filling his hands in strong, greedy strokes. Jim shoved and struggled with Spock's robes, needing bare skin to touch, needing Spock closer. He found the closures through pure blind luck while Spock licked and bit at his collarbone, and after another few minutes of desperate struggle they managed to shake off Spock's robes and the tattered remains of Jim's clothing.
When Spock settled back against him, skin against skin, Jim almost came then and there. He reached out blindly, scrabbling for the lube he knew was waiting on the bedside table and squeezing almost half of it into his hand before reaching down to grasp Spock's cock. Spock bucked into the touch as a groan tore its way out of his chest, and without ceremony batted Jim's hand away, yanked his legs up and apart, and pushed inside with a single sharp, vicious thrust.
In other circumstances, Jim might have been embarrassed to be coming so quickly. But Spock's heat was soaking into his skin, and the aching emptiness that had tormented Jim for days had finally fled as Spock's cock left him perfectly, blissfully full. Jim's entire body tightened and shook as his orgasm shot through him like electric pulses. He felt Spock's hips snap once, twice, and the hot spill of his seed inside Jim's body set off a series of aftershocks nearly as strong as Jim's initial climax.
He forced his eyes open as he struggled for breath, and a tentative shift of his hips confirmed that Spock was still fully hard. Jim reached up to stroke a fingertip along the edge of a pointed ear. Spock's head lifted, his eyes meeting Jim's for the first time since Spock had caught him. His face was flushed a delicate green, his lips dark and swollen around heavy, panting breaths. Something seemed to flutter at the back of Jim's mind, something warm and familiar.
Jim pulled Spock down into a kiss and the flutter grew more insistent, strengthening while Jim explored the taste and shape and texture of Spock's mouth. It felt nice; enticing and comfortable and right, and he wanted more. He reached down for Spock's hand and pressed it to his temple.
“Help me,” he murmured against Spock's lips.
The kiss turned fierce as Spock's fingers slid into place and his hips began to move again; Jim simply wrapped himself around him and got ready to enjoy the ride.
*******************************
Jim squirmed a bit in front of the vidscreen as Bones stared him down. He was fully aware of how he must look, because he had caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror just before he placed the call. Eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded; hair sticking up at all angles; a dozy smile that crept onto his face if he let his guard down for even a moment. Between the exhausted heaviness in his limbs and a lingering, pervasive soreness, he couldn't even sit up properly.
“So basically what you're telling me,” Bones said at last, his eyes narrowed and a scowl brewing over his face, “is that you called me three days ago in a panic, thinking you were dying, but it was just a false alarm and you're fine now.”
“Um.” It probably wasn't the smartest idea in this particular situation, but Jim couldn't seem to help but smile sheepishly. “Yes?”
“You call me in a panic, talking about a whole mess of symptoms that don't make a damn bit of sense.” Bones's voice was growing louder and louder, and Jim was suddenly profoundly glad for the massive stretch of space that separated them. “I worry myself sick over you for three goddamn days. Then you call again relaxed and practically high and for god's sake, man, is that a hickey?”
Jim touched the side of his neck, and his smile only grew at the smug rumble that sounded from across the room.
“Well . . .”
“So help me, Jim,” Bones growled, sounding almost dangerous now, “if you nearly gave me a heart attack just because you hadn't been getting laid, you're gonna find yourself missing some vital body parts.”
“No! Well . . . okay, kind of, but you're really missing some important-”
“JIM!”
“Look, let's just focus on the fact that I'm better now! I swear, Bones, I'll fill you in when I get back, all right? It's . . .” He glanced over at Spock. “It's sort of a sensitive subject.”
“Sensitive subject,” Bones snorted. He paused to look at Jim again. “Well, you do look better, I'll give you that.”
“Thanks. I am better.”
“Your color's back,” Bones continued almost to himself. “You look like you've actually gotten some rest. Hell, you look happy.” His eyebrows lifted, and a reluctant smile spread over his face. “It's good to see you like this, Jim. You haven't looked this good since before you started talking about being in love with the hobgoblin. I'm glad to see you finally getting back to . . . to . . . wait a minute.”
“Yeah.” Jim's blissed-out smile was back. “I, um. I have some news for you, actually.”
“Spock?” McCoy was back to simply staring through the vidscreen again. “You're . . . you two are . . .”
“We're sort of married,” Jim grinned.
“You're what?”
“It's a little more complicated than that, actually; I don't really understand the whole thing myself. We think it probably happened back on Boranis III, when that meld saved my life. He says in order to keep my mind from shutting down he had to act as an anchor, and while he was trying to hold on . . . well, the bond itself was sort of an accident. But it made my system go haywire-well, not the bond itself, exactly, but-”
“You're married?”
“Yes, Dr. McCoy, he is.” Spock had moved so quietly that Jim jumped a little when he appeared beside Jim's chair. “And now I believe that this conversation has gone on quite long enough. We will provide you with further information when we return to Starfleet Headquarters.”
Spock didn't bother to sever the call; instead he simply reached down and lifted Jim out of his chair, holding him aloft with no apparent effort as he carried him back to bed. Behind them Jim could hear McCoy sputtering something about not wanting to see this before he cut his end of the transmission.
To Jim's surprise, when Spock lowered him to the bed he made no move to undress him. Instead, he simply settled himself over Jim's body with his chest pressed against Jim's stomach and his arms folded over Jim's chest. Effectively held in place, Jim smirked up at him as he idly stroked his hands up and down Spock's sides, pausing with each pass to savor the thrum of Spock's heartbeat.
“A little possessive, are we?” he teased, purely for the pleasure of watching the tips of Spock's ears turn faintly green.
“I did warn you,” Spock replied, eyes not quite meeting Jim's. “Vulcan instinct is strong, and until my Time has passed completely I will not tolerate the possibility of competition.”
Jim snorted. “Bones isn't competition. He's practically family.”
“And that is the only reason I was able to hold my temper for as long as I did. I assure you, once my hormonal levels have normalized again, I will not attempt to limit your interactions with others.”
Jim's hands stilled for a moment. “And this only hits once every seven years, right?”
“In theory.” Spock's back arched slightly, pressing into Jim's touch until his hands began to move again. “Vulcan's destruction has caused a great deal of turmoil, however, and there is no way to tell what long-term effects it may have on pon farr cycles.”
Jim nodded. “And . . .”
It would be easy now to give in to the low hum of arousal that was still buzzing beneath his skin, the banked need that was slipping through their bond. He wanted to do that, to lose himself in Spock and simply enjoy what he had while he had it. But he owed them both more than that.
“What happens in between?” he finally finished, forcing his eyes to meet Spock's as he asked. Spock stared back, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows.
“I am uncertain what you mean.”
Jim sighed. “I just . . . look, I don't want to assume anything about . . . well, we weren't anything like together before this happened, so . . .”
Spock tensed, his eyes falling shut as his jaw tightened. “I recognize that you were never given the opportunity to reject or consent to our bond. You are well within your rights to have it dissolved; I am afraid, however, that my current state is making it difficult for me to . . . you are mine,” he said viciously, “and I will not-” He snapped his mouth shut and forced several deep breaths. “If you will . . . if you will only allow me enough time to fully recover-”
“Hey. Hey.” Jim framed Spock's face with both hands, stroking his thumbs gently against his cheeks until Spock opened his eyes again. “We'll talk about it later, all right? It's okay. I just wanted you to know that I wasn't going to hold you to any of this. You're not exactly in your right mind right now.”
Spock stared back at him. “Jim,” he said slowly, “I profoundly regret the manner in which this has happened. I would never have wished to bond with you without your knowledge or consent. However, I confess that I have had every intention of securing your consent for some time.”
Jim's heart leapt. “So.” He swallowed nervously. “If I told you that I've been been stupidly in love with you for the past year-”
He was cut off by Spock's kiss, their lips meeting even as Spock's fingers lifted to glide over the backs of Jim's hands.
“Okay,” Jim said when they finally came up for air, that stupid, dopey grin spreading over his face again. “So we're doing this.”
Spock's eyebrow arched, but the warmth in his eyes matched the flutter of contented amusement at the back of Jim's mind. “It would seem that we are.
“It's not going to be easy.” Jim's smile dimmed at the thought. “Starfleet probably isn't going to be wild about the flagship's two highest-ranking officers being married. There are gonna be problems.”
“Indeed.” Spock's fingertip were still sliding against Jim's. “I would remind you, however, that we are accustomed to dealing with problems of a significantly larger scope on a regular basis.”
“There is that,” Jim conceded. “They'll worry I won't be able to send you into dangerous situations anymore.” And if he were being honest, he admitted to himself, it wasn't an unreasonable fear. But Spock's eyebrow simply lifted once more as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Did you love me less when you were uncertain of my regard?” he asked, and Jim had to smile again.
“No.”
“Command is not insensible to logic, and we are better together than apart.”
“Well.” Jim sighed and shifted deliberately beneath Spock's weight. “If you turn out to be wrong about that, I suppose there's always piracy.”
Spock's eyebrow twitched. “Jim.”
“You and me, out there in the black. We'll get you an earring and a parrot, learn some of the lingo.”
“There are times, I must admit, when you are entirely incomprehensible to me.”
“That's easy enough to fix.” Jim captured one of Spock's hands and brought his fingers to his lips, watching Spock's eyes sharpen as Jim pressed soft, lingering kisses to his fingertips. He moved Spock's hand to his temple, then, his head tilted in invitation. “I'm an open book.”
Jim's eyes closed as Spock slid into his mind and contentment washed through him. Eventually they would have to return to their usual routines, to duty and responsibility and the thousand little tedious details of normal life. For now, though, he had a private room with a comfortable bed, a replicator, and a Vulcan with a seemingly inexhaustible sex drive.
All in all, he thought at Spock with a grin, definitely not a bad first date.
Creator: ladyblahblah
Universe: Reboot
Word Count: 7831
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pon farr hits and Spock finds himself without a mate. Except . . . wait, when did that happen? Accidental!bonding fic.
Disclaimer: One day I will complete my time machine, go back to the '60s and convince Gene Roddenberry to sign over the Trek franchise to me. Unfortunately, until that day I'm afraid that I own nothing but the plot, which isn't even making me any profit. *sigh*
“Damn it, Jim!” McCoy snarled. Trails of sweat cut through the dirt that covered his face, but he made no move to wipe them away; his hands were red to the wrist and pressed firmly against the captain's abdomen. “I swear to god, if you die on me I will kill you. Spock, talk to me here, I need information.”
“Respiration and cardiac rates are falling. The blow to his head was worse than we originally surmised, as well.” Spock's voice was cool and calm, a direct contrast to his white-knuckled grip on the tricorder. “His brain activity appears to be weakening.”
McCoy let out a stream of vicious curses. “I can give him trianoline for the concussion, but his system can't take more than half a normal dose of netinaline. It'll help keep him with us, but only for a few minutes. Damn it, I need more time!”
“Administer the netinaline, Doctor,” Spock said, dropping the tricorder in the dust and reaching towards the captain's face. “I will secure you the time you require.”
“Are you insane?” McCoy shouted. “You can't risk a meld with him in this state; if something happens you might never be able to pull out of it!”
“That is a risk that I will have to take.”
“Spock-for god's sake man, you could die!”
“As a Starfleet officer, I must guard my captain's life even at the expense of my own.” Spock's eyes met the doctor's for a brief, furious second. “It is my duty, and I will not abandon it now.”
He didn't wait for a response, merely slid his fingers into place. For a moment the blood that leaked from Jim's temple was slick against his skin, and smoke from the wreck of the shuttlecraft stung his eyes and throat. Then his mind opened, and the world slid away.
Spock could feel the moment the drug took effect as Jim's mind seemed to sharpen and tighten around him. He seized at it with all his mental strength, turning himself into an anchor for the human consciousness. The captain's mind, usually so bright, so strong, was too weak to hold on in return. There could be no help from his side, and Spock felt him begin to slip away again as Spock's own hold faltered.
A grip on the edges of his consciousness was not enough. If he wished to be successful, Spock needed to go deeper, to find the center of the captain's mind and stabilize it. The captain was drugged, concussed, bleeding out; logic clearly indicated that the risk outweighed the potential benefit of a deeper connection. Every moment brought Jim Kirk closer to death, and the deeper he went the greater the chance that Spock would die with him.
The captain's mind began to slip.
Spock took a deep mental breath, and dove after it.
*******************************
“Attention, attention please!” Jim waited for the chatter to stop, smiling down the table at his crew. “Now, you all know I'm not a big fan of speeches, but I want to thank everyone for making it tonight. It's been an incredible three years so far; now we've got three weeks to forget that we're sick of the sight of each other.” There was a general round of laughter and eye rolling. “Before we scatter to the winds, I'd like to take this moment to point out that it's the first time we've all been off-duty at the same time, and I for one hope not to remember a moment of it tomorrow morning.” He raised his glass. “Here's to a relaxing shore leave.”
“To Leonard's best hangover cures,” Gaila chimed in with a wink.
“To getting the Admiralty to approve my request to oversee the Enterprise's repairs,” Scotty called from the other end of the table.
“To three weeks without flashing people every time you try to sit down,” Uhura offered dryly, earning a cheer from Gaila and Christine and disappointed groans from the men.
“To the best crew I could've asked for,” Jim finished. “Here's to all of you.”
He sat back down amidst hollers and cheers and calls for more drinks and carefully looked past his best friend to offer Gaila his most charming smile. “So, gorgeous, you haven't told me yet what you have planned for the next few weeks.”
“Ny's invited me to her family's place for the first week,” she said excitedly. “I've never been to Africa before, and you know Dakar is supposed to be just beautiful. The rest of the time . . . well.” She glanced over at Bones with a nervous little smile curving up her lips. “I'm going to be in Georgia.”
“Finally gonna get to meet Jo, huh?” Jim raised his eyebrows. “Big step.”
“I know. I'm nervous about it, to be honest. Excited, too, but-”
“I've told you,” Bones interrupted, reaching out to take her hand, “she's gonna love you. Hell, she's half there already; she asks about you in her letters more than she asks about me.”
“I want her to like me,” Gaila said helplessly, and Jim couldn't help but grin.
“I wouldn't worry too much. Her favorite color's already green, after all.”
Gaila laughed and Bones rolled his eyes, and Chekov spoke up from his seat on the other side of Sulu. “Vhat are your plans, Keptin? You have not said.”
“I'll be doing some traveling. See where I end up.”
“Starfleet Command,” Spock began, breaking off from his conversation with Scotty but Jim just held up a hand.
“-has no say in how I spend my legally-required shore leave, so long as I'm keeping my nose clean. I'll check in every few days or so, let Bones know where I am in case of an emergency.”
One dark, slanted eyebrow winged up. “And why, may I ask, have you chosen Dr. McCoy to be in sole possession of your whereabouts?”
“Because he's the only person I know who wants his shore leave interrupted even less than I do,” Jim smirked, “and he knows that if Command hauls me back in I'm taking him with me.”
“Yeah, his secret's safe with me,” Bones said with a scowl. “Doesn't mean I have to like it,” he went on in an undertone as the others' attention turned away again.
“I'll be fine,” Jim promised. “It's not like this is the first time I've done this, you know.”
“Oh I know. Except that last time you didn't contact anyone for a week and a half, and when you finally turned up again you'd managed to break your damn arm and nearly go into anaphylactic shock from the pain meds you'd been given.”
“That was different.” Jim picked up his glass, put it down again. “I had to . . .” He glanced down the table to where Spock was arguing over something with Chekov and Scotty. “I had to get away for a while. You know that. But that was over a year ago, and it's not like I've had any mind-shattering realizations that are going to make me act like an idiot this time.”
“That's bullshit,” Bones said flatly. “You've been even twitchier around him than ever since Boranis III, and now you're running again. We both know it.” He glanced down the table as well. “Why don't you just tell him-”
“Drop it, Bones,” Jim said sharply. “I'm not going over all of this again.”
For a moment it seemed that Bones would argue, but in the end he simply sighed and fixed Jim with his best scowl. “Make sure you refill your cervaline prescription before you leave, and don't forget to actually take it just because I'm not there to pester you about it.”
“It's been two months already,” Jim complained. “When am I gonna get taken off these damn meds?”
“When your doctor gives you a clean bill of health, and not before. Of course, if I could trust that you were somewhere your health could be properly monitored-”
“You don't have to worry about me, Bones,” Jim smiled. “I just . . . need to get away. I need some time to deal with things.”
That was all he needed, he assured himself as he let his crew's excitement wash over him. He glanced down the table again, shivering as the constant humming at the back of his mind grew stronger when his eyes landed on Spock.
He just had to get away.
*******************************
“-so we ended up just jumping on the next shuttle to San Francisco, and here we are!” Nyota's smile faded when he did not respond. “Spock?” She reached out, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Spock!”
“There is no need to raise your voice,” Spock said, reaching for his tea to cover his instinctive flinch.
“Right.” Nyota sat back, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you been listening to a word I've said?”
“As fascinating as your travel plans certainly are, I would remind you that some of us have chosen to spend our leave time in a productive pursuit,” Spock replied stiffly. “I am afraid that my full attention can not be-”
“Save it.” Nyota cut him off with a single raised hand and a look of icy disdain that would have made a Vulcan woman proud. “You can lie to me if you want, but don't talk down to me and don't treat me like I'm stupid.”
“Vulcans are incapable of lying.” Spock was shocked to hear what very nearly sounded like petulance in his voice, but Nyota just rolled her eyes.
“Prevaricating, then. Deliberately obfuscating.” She dropped her arms and leaned forward again, her eyes softening in concern. “Why do you think I came here, Spock? Why do you think I paid for a same-day transport to San Francisco when Chris was supposed to be meeting me at home in two days? It's not like I came here for the weather, you know.”
Spock conceded the point with a nod. A preference for warmer climates had always been something that he and Nyota agreed on. “I confess that I am at something of a loss as to why you are here.”
“I'm worried about you,” Nyota said bluntly. “You practically bit my head off when we talked a few days ago, and Chris says that she's heard about you snapping at at least three different cadets since your class started.”
Spock felt irritation boil up inside of him and tried futilely to suppress it. “Gossip is hardly conduct becoming a Starfleet officer, and Ensign Chapel should not-”
“You know as well as I do that the Academy's a small place; you can't honestly think that emotional displays from its resident Vulcan are going to go unnoticed.” When Spock said nothing to that, she pressed on. “I haven't seen you like this since . . .” She faltered for a moment before visibly firming her resolve. “Since the last time you were emotionally compromised.”
“My next class in less than an hour.” Spock tried to ignore the furious rush of blood in his ears as he pushed back from the table. “I am afraid that I must cut our conversation short.”
“Is this about Jim?” she pressed, and jumped back when Spock's hand slammed down onto the table.
“I have not requested either your interference or your concern,” he snarled. “If I require your assistance I shall ask for it; until that time, do not presume to comment on subjects that you could not possibly comprehend.”
Spock straightened again with a growing sense of horror. For the first time in their acquaintance, Nyota looked afraid of him. He could not blame her; he could hardly believe his own actions. He straightened again and clenched his fists against the anger that still burned hot in his veins.
“My apologies,” he managed. “I . . . I regret that I will not be able to join you and Ensign Chapel for dinner tonight after all. Please excuse me.”
There was a chill drizzle falling outside, but Spock chose to walk rather than endure the crowds of strangers availing themselves of the city's public transit. He would have to contact Admiral Pike, he thought dimly. Even the most cursory examination of his mental shields-something that he had, he admitted to himself, avoided in the five point seven days since his return to Earth-revealed what he already knew.
He was indeed emotionally compromised, and far past the point of being able to rectify the problem himself. The rest of his guest lectures would have to be canceled; he could not remain at the Academy in such a state. He would go to New Vulcan and see a Healer, something that his father had been urging him to do for some time. Spock, however, had not been able to accept the idea of granting another access to his mind.
His thoughts strayed, as they had done so often of late, to Jim. Spock would gladly open himself to Jim, to the warm, golden haven of that vibrant Human mind. The idea of it haunted him, enticing as nothing else in his experience had ever been, and with every recollection of its impossibility Spock's control fractured that much more. Jim had no desire to so much as see him during their leave, Spock reminded himself sharply; he had disappeared into the horde of other Federation travelers at the first opportunity. It was hardly surprising, as determined as he had been to avoid Spock since he had woken in Sickbay with Spock's mind still carefully wrapped around his. Even if Spock were to seek Jim out, he would not-
He cut off the thought as soon as it began. Jim was not a trained Healer; despite what Spock wished, he could not help the current situation.
At least, Spock reflected as the cold rain hit his face, on New Vulcan he would finally be warm again.
*******************************
Jim woke in a cold sweat, rock hard and trembling and still half-convinced that he could feel Spock's weight pinning him to the mattress. He could still feel Spock inside him, feel hot breath bathing his face and slim hips rutting roughly into him again and again. He reached down and wrapped his fist tight around his own cock, bringing himself off in barely two full strokes.
Sticky and shivering, Jim collapsed back into the pillows as he struggled to even out his breathing. These dreams were getting ridiculous. They had started almost a week ago, vague and formless at first, just enough to lend a delicious sense of urgency to his customary morning release. As time went on, however, he found himself recognizing the large, strong hands and fierce brown eyes of his dream lover, and it wasn't long at all before he was waking up with Spock's name a half-formed whimper on his lips.
It wasn't limited to sleep anymore, either. He'd begun to have daydreams so vivid that it was getting hard to tell what was real and what was only in his head. More than once he'd found himself startled back into awareness of his surroundings, genuinely surprised to find himself alone. He half-expected to find Spock waiting every time he turned a corner, to feel hot arms wrap around him from behind whenever he didn't have a wall at his back. It was an itch between his shoulder blades, a constant sense of pursuit that never allowed him to relax.
There was a buzzing sensation beneath his skin, like the beginnings of an adrenaline rush, and Jim knew he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. Instead he threw off the covers, shivering, and padded across the dark room to adjust the environmental controls. He'd leave in the morning, he decided; he needed someplace warmer. In the meantime he turned the temperature up another five degrees and headed for the shower.
He was already hard again by the time he stepped under the hot water. With the water up as hot as he could stand, he braced his forearm against the wall and rested his head against it. With his mind firmly fixed on the physical-the beat of the water against his back, the thick steam beginning to clog his lungs, his breath fogging against the tiles as his breathing grew heavier-he wrapped a fist around his cock and stroked himself to a swift, hard climax.
Jim let the hot water rinse the sweat and semen from his skin as a series of fine tremors shivered down his spine. The aftershocks of orgasm, he told himself, but he couldn't ignore the way the hairs at the back of his neck were rising, or the tension that was already flooding his body again. He wrenched off the water and snatched a towel from the rack.
No need to wait until morning, he thought as he scrubbed himself dry. He'd leave now.
*******************************
Spock stared at the ticket in his hand, struggling against a rising sense of panic.
The spaceport was quiet, only a handful of other travelers waiting in the immediate vicinity. Few people had seemed inclined to venture through this particular stretch of space since the Battle of Vulcan; Spock himself had not been back since the day his planet had been destroyed, despite several offers from the scientific research team investigating the area. He had no wish to be there now. By all rights, he should have been on New Vulcan, already on his way to one of the healing temples. Instead, he found himself disembarking on Canopus III with no recollection of how he got there.
He could not, he realized with a sinking feeling, remember actually buying the ticket. The entire span of time from when he had accessed a terminal to when he had boarded the transport was a blank, and most disturbing of all he had not so much as registered the inconsistency until now. He had begun with such a sense of certainty, almost a serenity that had disappeared by halfway through the trip, leaving him even edgier and more irritable than before.
Spock could no longer ignore the evidence: shortened temper, heightened sensitivity to touch, memory loss. The diagnosis was nearly as terrifying as the symptoms, but pretending otherwise would not make the fact of the matter change.
It was all the more imperative now that he make it to New Vulcan. T'Pring had died when Vulcan was destroyed, but Spock's father and the rest of his surviving clan members would be able to find him a mate. The wave of disgust and fury that swept through him at the thought was nearly unbearable. He did not want a stranger's body, a stranger's mind to ease him through his Time. He could not endure it, would not, he wanted-
Spock cut that thought short before he could finish it. What he wanted was irrelevant; what he needed was the priority. Over the past three years a great many Vulcans had found their cycles thrown into chaos, the mating instinct triggered by their race's near extinction complicated by missing bondmates and the mass relocation effort. Based on his current trajectory, Spock hypothesized that, bondless himself, his mind was propelling him towards the space where Vulcan had once existed. If he was going to make it to New Vulcan before his time ran out, he would have to attempt to correct the error.
Unwilling to spare the time necessary to secure a solitary space, Spock simply chose a seat in the nearly-abandoned lounge. It would be quiet enough to suit his purposes, at least as far as performing a preliminary diagnostic. He closed his eyes and centered his thoughts, struggling as never before to move past his own physical awareness.
He had erected heavy shields around his broken bond when T'Pring had died, unwilling to expose the rest of his consciousness to the agony of the severed link and the compulsion to bond again that would almost certainly follow. It was those shields, he believed, that kept him from maintaining full awareness when his mating drive began to determine his actions. They would have to come down if he wished to regain full control. Focusing all of his available will, he sent the shields scattering. For a moment, nothing. And then-
Jim. His scent, the coolness of his skin, the intoxicating warmth of his thoughts-it suffused Spock's mind in the space of a breath. The sense of him was so strong that he might have been in front of Spock at that very moment, waiting only for his mate to reach out and claim him.
His mate.
Spock.
Jim.
Spock's eyes shot open, already scanning the room. Jim was not there. His mate was not there.
There was a bond where there should have been emptiness, a link to Jim that should not have been possible. Spock had only touched his mind a handful of times, and though he had thought each meld indelibly engraved in his memory they all seemed to blend together now in a haze of remembered bliss. Melding with Jim had always been exceptional, had always made Spock wish that he might never have to leave. Apparently at some point, his emotional state had overpowered his better judgement. He had bonded them, and now did not even know how or when he had done so.
This was what had been pulling him off-course, Spock realized as he surged to his feet. Why the thought of going to another repulsed him so. However it had happened, he already had a mate. And whatever it took, Spock would find him.
The possibility that Jim might not be alone was swiftly pushed away. If that was the case, Spock would deal with the telsu pi'tak when he found them. For the first time in his life, Spock knew that he could kill without question; he would end any creature that attempted to take Jim from him, would snap the interloper's neck and claim his mate before the body had even gone cold. The violence that threatened to erupt in him at the mere thought was terrifying, but there was nothing to be done. When the time came, Spock knew, what happened would happen. For now, he focused on the tug at the back of his mind.
Jim was waiting.
*******************************
"Jesus, Jim, you look like hell.”
“Then I look like I feel.” Jim wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I'm sorry for getting you out of bed, but . . . Bones, I think something is really wrong with me.”
Any remaining bleariness vanished as Bones's entire face seemed to sharpen in sudden attention. “What's wrong?”
“I'm sweating all the time, but I don't feel warm. I feel like I'm freezing. I've been to four different planets since I left Earth, the last two of which have been ninety percent desert, and they've all been too fucking cold. I can't sleep more than a couple of hours a night. It feels like I'm being watched, like there are eyes on me all the damn time.” He scrubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “It sounds crazy. Hell, I feel crazy. I . . .”
“You what?”
Jim shook his head, eyes darting away. “Nothing. It's nothing.”
Bones looked skeptical but he didn't press, and Jim felt himself sag in relief. He couldn't tell Bones the rest; couldn't tell him that he was hard almost all the time now, that he'd wake up feeling alone and trapped and empty, that he'd started to feel like he'd go mad if he didn't get something inside of him. He certainly couldn't tell his friend that he had bought half a dozen sex toys in the past week, or that digging his fingernails hard into his thigh was the only thing grounding him enough to keep from cutting off the call, climbing into bed and fucking himself until he passed out. Again.
“-see a doctor,” Bones was saying, and Jim flushed when he realized that he had drifted into his own world again. He shook himself and tried to focus.
“Why do you think I'm calling you?” he demanded. “Look, you know I don't want to screw with your leave time, but please, you've gotta check me out. I feel like I'm losing my mind here.”
“I meant a doctor there, Jim. If things are as bad as you say, just-”
“No. No, no, no, no.” Jim felt his eyes growing wide, his terror and disgust at the idea so strong that he had actually begun to shake. “I can't, I can't, the thought of someone touching me, I-”
“Okay!” Bones held up his hands, his own eyes widening in helpless concern. “It's okay, Jim, just calm down.”
“I can't do it, Bones.”
“All right.” The doctor hesitated. “Jim, if you can make it here you know I'll look you over, but . . . you know I'll have to touch you for an examination, right?”
“That's different.” Jim took a deep breath. “You're . . . family. You're practically family. It's different.” It didn't make any sense, but simply saying the words aloud helped calm him.
“How soon can you get here?”
“I'm halfway back already, stuck on this god-forsaken space station.” Jim's fingers trembled as he called up the information he had accessed on his PADD. “There's a ship coming in tonight that has a good record of express runs between here and Earth, and it's listed as willing to take on passengers. I figure if I pay the captain enough he'll take me back; I should be able to get there in three days if we leave tomorrow morning.”
“Damn it. All right. You keep me updated if you can manage subspace calls while you're aboard, understand?”
“I'll do my best. Thanks.”
Bones just grunted. “Try to get some rest. And document your condition on the way here if you're up to it. If you're not, find someone else to do it for you, I mean it. Now try to get some rest.”
Jim nodded as he severed the call, but he knew it would be a useless attempt. He felt wired and restless, and god, so empty. He had been on his hands and knees less than an hour ago, face pressed into the mattress as he rocked his hips back against the thick vibrator he was working inside of him. It hadn't been enough still, so close but not quite what he needed, not until his mind had drifted back to Spock again. The thought of him fucking Jim just like that, the fact that Jim could practically feel Spock behind him, had made him come almost immediately.
Jim had been attracted to Spock almost since he'd first seen him; several months after that he had realized that Spock was one of his best friends; a year ago Jim had been terrified to realize that his feelings weren't going to go away. The wanting was nothing new. But Jim had never been this single-minded, never been incapable of thinking of anything but Spock fucking him raw and-
He checked the ship's information again. The Prospect was due to dock in about twenty minutes and depart again at 0800. That left Jim with just over twelve hours left to wait.
Fuck that, he thought, and stood, shivering as he dropped the blanket. He'd meet the ship when it docked and talk to the captain then. It wasn't like he had anything better to spend his Starfleet salary on; whatever it cost, he was getting out of here and on his way back to Earth tonight.
The corridors were cold, even dressed as he was in clothes better suited for Delta Vega than for the planets he had visited. The Prospect had logged its transporters as being non-operational, which meant that transport between ship and station would have to be done via shuttlecraft. He would head to the shuttlebay, he decided, and try to talk his way into transport onto the ship so that he could speak with the captain directly. He certainly wasn't in any shape to make a positive impression over a vidscreen, but if he could plead his case-and offer his credits-in person, then he figured he might have a chance.
Jim walked quickly, taking the longer way around the station in order to avoid the more heavily populated areas; just the thought of being around people made him want to bolt for cover. Every face had begun to seem threatening; he had spent the two days since his arrival almost exclusively in his quarters, unable to bear the uneasy sense of exposure that shivered down his spine whenever he was in public.
One of the Prospect's shuttles had landed and was just opening its doors when Jim arrived, and his heart kicked into overdrive. His stomach began to flutter with a familiar sense of anticipation. Gut instinct, he always told Spock, something that his Vulcan XO dismissed out of hand but that Jim had come to trust implicitly. This ship was going to help him; he no longer had any doubt. Maybe, he thought, once Bones had fixed him up he would drop by to visit Spock. Not before. Jim was half-hard just at the thought of him; if he actually saw Spock while he was in this state there was no telling what-
His mind ground to a stuttering halt as Spock stepped out of the shuttle as if summoned by Jim's thoughts. Another Vulcan followed close behind him, a fact that Jim barely had time to register before his entire world seemed to narrow down to Spock's eyes locked on his.
Jim was shaking, torn between the terror of the hunted and the almost overwhelming urge to jump Spock and just fucking take him then and there. He could imagine it with almost painful clarity-the sound of Spock's robes tearing beneath his hands, the feel of his lips, the heat of him, and he was so close, just a few quick steps and Jim could have him. Hard and fast and violent and good, so good he wanted he needed oh god he burned. He had to have Spock now, buried inside him and to hell with anyone watching. Better for them to watch, to know that Spock was taken, claimed, Jim's. His body tensed, ready to spring.
He couldn't.
Spock wasn't his; he didn't have the right. So with the very last shred of his control, Jim did the only thing left for him to do.
He ran.
A snarl ripped through the air behind him but Jim was already tearing through the corridors back the way he had come. This was what he had been waiting for, he knew somehow, what had been setting his nerves on edge for over a week now. Spock running him down, footsteps pounding after him that echoed in the savage pulse of Jim's blood, and now that it was happening the fear was gone, evaporated as if it had never been. He ran so that Spock would prove himself, ran to make Spock chase him. The footsteps grew closer all the time, and Spock would catch him soon.
Spock would catch him, and then they would see.
Jim reached the door to his quarters and skidded to a stop, cursing under his breath when it remained stubbornly closed. His fingers were still scrambling over the keypad, trying to disengage the automatic privacy locks when Spock rounded the corner after him. With an extra burst of speed he reached Jim just before he could finish, hands clamped like vises around Jim's shoulders and eyes blown nearly black. A fresh burst of adrenaline hit Jim's system and he tore himself out of Spock's grasp, shoving hard at his chest for good measure. Jim heard Spock's body hit the opposite wall as he spun back around to key in the final three numbers and the door slid open with a quiet hiss.
He had barely taken a step before Spock was on him again. His arms were locked around Jim's waist now, his mouth latched onto the back of Jim's neck where he was kissing and biting down hard enough to mark. Jim's eyes rolled back in his head and he shifted back against Spock's body seeking more contact, only to twist and try to jerk out of Spock's arms a second later. Spock simply growled against his skin and tightened his grip. He began to move forward, pushing them along together until Jim's shins hit the edge of the bed and sent him tumbling down with Spock on top of him.
The room seemed to spin as Spock flipped him over and he found himself pinned with his back to the mattress, the warmth of Spock's body sinking into Jim's heat-starved skin. Caught and contained, the urge to escape drained out of Jim all at once. He was almost dizzy, unable to keep up with his own shifting mental state, from fear to exhilaration to lust. For just a moment he struggled against it, trying to assert some control over what he was feeling. Then Spock settled more firmly between his legs and Jim's mind emptied of everything but blind, consuming need.
The sound of ripping fabric seemed to echo off the walls as Spock tore at Jim's clothes. His touch went from rough to delicate and back again, fingertips stroking lightly over Jim's skin before his palms flattened against Jim's ribs, filling his hands in strong, greedy strokes. Jim shoved and struggled with Spock's robes, needing bare skin to touch, needing Spock closer. He found the closures through pure blind luck while Spock licked and bit at his collarbone, and after another few minutes of desperate struggle they managed to shake off Spock's robes and the tattered remains of Jim's clothing.
When Spock settled back against him, skin against skin, Jim almost came then and there. He reached out blindly, scrabbling for the lube he knew was waiting on the bedside table and squeezing almost half of it into his hand before reaching down to grasp Spock's cock. Spock bucked into the touch as a groan tore its way out of his chest, and without ceremony batted Jim's hand away, yanked his legs up and apart, and pushed inside with a single sharp, vicious thrust.
In other circumstances, Jim might have been embarrassed to be coming so quickly. But Spock's heat was soaking into his skin, and the aching emptiness that had tormented Jim for days had finally fled as Spock's cock left him perfectly, blissfully full. Jim's entire body tightened and shook as his orgasm shot through him like electric pulses. He felt Spock's hips snap once, twice, and the hot spill of his seed inside Jim's body set off a series of aftershocks nearly as strong as Jim's initial climax.
He forced his eyes open as he struggled for breath, and a tentative shift of his hips confirmed that Spock was still fully hard. Jim reached up to stroke a fingertip along the edge of a pointed ear. Spock's head lifted, his eyes meeting Jim's for the first time since Spock had caught him. His face was flushed a delicate green, his lips dark and swollen around heavy, panting breaths. Something seemed to flutter at the back of Jim's mind, something warm and familiar.
Jim pulled Spock down into a kiss and the flutter grew more insistent, strengthening while Jim explored the taste and shape and texture of Spock's mouth. It felt nice; enticing and comfortable and right, and he wanted more. He reached down for Spock's hand and pressed it to his temple.
“Help me,” he murmured against Spock's lips.
The kiss turned fierce as Spock's fingers slid into place and his hips began to move again; Jim simply wrapped himself around him and got ready to enjoy the ride.
*******************************
Jim squirmed a bit in front of the vidscreen as Bones stared him down. He was fully aware of how he must look, because he had caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror just before he placed the call. Eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded; hair sticking up at all angles; a dozy smile that crept onto his face if he let his guard down for even a moment. Between the exhausted heaviness in his limbs and a lingering, pervasive soreness, he couldn't even sit up properly.
“So basically what you're telling me,” Bones said at last, his eyes narrowed and a scowl brewing over his face, “is that you called me three days ago in a panic, thinking you were dying, but it was just a false alarm and you're fine now.”
“Um.” It probably wasn't the smartest idea in this particular situation, but Jim couldn't seem to help but smile sheepishly. “Yes?”
“You call me in a panic, talking about a whole mess of symptoms that don't make a damn bit of sense.” Bones's voice was growing louder and louder, and Jim was suddenly profoundly glad for the massive stretch of space that separated them. “I worry myself sick over you for three goddamn days. Then you call again relaxed and practically high and for god's sake, man, is that a hickey?”
Jim touched the side of his neck, and his smile only grew at the smug rumble that sounded from across the room.
“Well . . .”
“So help me, Jim,” Bones growled, sounding almost dangerous now, “if you nearly gave me a heart attack just because you hadn't been getting laid, you're gonna find yourself missing some vital body parts.”
“No! Well . . . okay, kind of, but you're really missing some important-”
“JIM!”
“Look, let's just focus on the fact that I'm better now! I swear, Bones, I'll fill you in when I get back, all right? It's . . .” He glanced over at Spock. “It's sort of a sensitive subject.”
“Sensitive subject,” Bones snorted. He paused to look at Jim again. “Well, you do look better, I'll give you that.”
“Thanks. I am better.”
“Your color's back,” Bones continued almost to himself. “You look like you've actually gotten some rest. Hell, you look happy.” His eyebrows lifted, and a reluctant smile spread over his face. “It's good to see you like this, Jim. You haven't looked this good since before you started talking about being in love with the hobgoblin. I'm glad to see you finally getting back to . . . to . . . wait a minute.”
“Yeah.” Jim's blissed-out smile was back. “I, um. I have some news for you, actually.”
“Spock?” McCoy was back to simply staring through the vidscreen again. “You're . . . you two are . . .”
“We're sort of married,” Jim grinned.
“You're what?”
“It's a little more complicated than that, actually; I don't really understand the whole thing myself. We think it probably happened back on Boranis III, when that meld saved my life. He says in order to keep my mind from shutting down he had to act as an anchor, and while he was trying to hold on . . . well, the bond itself was sort of an accident. But it made my system go haywire-well, not the bond itself, exactly, but-”
“You're married?”
“Yes, Dr. McCoy, he is.” Spock had moved so quietly that Jim jumped a little when he appeared beside Jim's chair. “And now I believe that this conversation has gone on quite long enough. We will provide you with further information when we return to Starfleet Headquarters.”
Spock didn't bother to sever the call; instead he simply reached down and lifted Jim out of his chair, holding him aloft with no apparent effort as he carried him back to bed. Behind them Jim could hear McCoy sputtering something about not wanting to see this before he cut his end of the transmission.
To Jim's surprise, when Spock lowered him to the bed he made no move to undress him. Instead, he simply settled himself over Jim's body with his chest pressed against Jim's stomach and his arms folded over Jim's chest. Effectively held in place, Jim smirked up at him as he idly stroked his hands up and down Spock's sides, pausing with each pass to savor the thrum of Spock's heartbeat.
“A little possessive, are we?” he teased, purely for the pleasure of watching the tips of Spock's ears turn faintly green.
“I did warn you,” Spock replied, eyes not quite meeting Jim's. “Vulcan instinct is strong, and until my Time has passed completely I will not tolerate the possibility of competition.”
Jim snorted. “Bones isn't competition. He's practically family.”
“And that is the only reason I was able to hold my temper for as long as I did. I assure you, once my hormonal levels have normalized again, I will not attempt to limit your interactions with others.”
Jim's hands stilled for a moment. “And this only hits once every seven years, right?”
“In theory.” Spock's back arched slightly, pressing into Jim's touch until his hands began to move again. “Vulcan's destruction has caused a great deal of turmoil, however, and there is no way to tell what long-term effects it may have on pon farr cycles.”
Jim nodded. “And . . .”
It would be easy now to give in to the low hum of arousal that was still buzzing beneath his skin, the banked need that was slipping through their bond. He wanted to do that, to lose himself in Spock and simply enjoy what he had while he had it. But he owed them both more than that.
“What happens in between?” he finally finished, forcing his eyes to meet Spock's as he asked. Spock stared back, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows.
“I am uncertain what you mean.”
Jim sighed. “I just . . . look, I don't want to assume anything about . . . well, we weren't anything like together before this happened, so . . .”
Spock tensed, his eyes falling shut as his jaw tightened. “I recognize that you were never given the opportunity to reject or consent to our bond. You are well within your rights to have it dissolved; I am afraid, however, that my current state is making it difficult for me to . . . you are mine,” he said viciously, “and I will not-” He snapped his mouth shut and forced several deep breaths. “If you will . . . if you will only allow me enough time to fully recover-”
“Hey. Hey.” Jim framed Spock's face with both hands, stroking his thumbs gently against his cheeks until Spock opened his eyes again. “We'll talk about it later, all right? It's okay. I just wanted you to know that I wasn't going to hold you to any of this. You're not exactly in your right mind right now.”
Spock stared back at him. “Jim,” he said slowly, “I profoundly regret the manner in which this has happened. I would never have wished to bond with you without your knowledge or consent. However, I confess that I have had every intention of securing your consent for some time.”
Jim's heart leapt. “So.” He swallowed nervously. “If I told you that I've been been stupidly in love with you for the past year-”
He was cut off by Spock's kiss, their lips meeting even as Spock's fingers lifted to glide over the backs of Jim's hands.
“Okay,” Jim said when they finally came up for air, that stupid, dopey grin spreading over his face again. “So we're doing this.”
Spock's eyebrow arched, but the warmth in his eyes matched the flutter of contented amusement at the back of Jim's mind. “It would seem that we are.
“It's not going to be easy.” Jim's smile dimmed at the thought. “Starfleet probably isn't going to be wild about the flagship's two highest-ranking officers being married. There are gonna be problems.”
“Indeed.” Spock's fingertip were still sliding against Jim's. “I would remind you, however, that we are accustomed to dealing with problems of a significantly larger scope on a regular basis.”
“There is that,” Jim conceded. “They'll worry I won't be able to send you into dangerous situations anymore.” And if he were being honest, he admitted to himself, it wasn't an unreasonable fear. But Spock's eyebrow simply lifted once more as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Did you love me less when you were uncertain of my regard?” he asked, and Jim had to smile again.
“No.”
“Command is not insensible to logic, and we are better together than apart.”
“Well.” Jim sighed and shifted deliberately beneath Spock's weight. “If you turn out to be wrong about that, I suppose there's always piracy.”
Spock's eyebrow twitched. “Jim.”
“You and me, out there in the black. We'll get you an earring and a parrot, learn some of the lingo.”
“There are times, I must admit, when you are entirely incomprehensible to me.”
“That's easy enough to fix.” Jim captured one of Spock's hands and brought his fingers to his lips, watching Spock's eyes sharpen as Jim pressed soft, lingering kisses to his fingertips. He moved Spock's hand to his temple, then, his head tilted in invitation. “I'm an open book.”
Jim's eyes closed as Spock slid into his mind and contentment washed through him. Eventually they would have to return to their usual routines, to duty and responsibility and the thousand little tedious details of normal life. For now, though, he had a private room with a comfortable bed, a replicator, and a Vulcan with a seemingly inexhaustible sex drive.
All in all, he thought at Spock with a grin, definitely not a bad first date.