PROMPT POST 01
ROUND 01 IS NOW OFFICIALLY CLOSED. ROUND 02 WILL OPEN IN 24HRS.
THIS POST WILL NOT BE FROZEN, SO FURTHER FILLS FOR PROMPTS IN THIS ROUND WILL STILL BE ALLOWED BUT NO NEW PROMPTS WILL BE PERMITTED.
Thanks for a great first round, everyone!
ROUND 01 of the Star Trek: Into Darkness Kink Meme
ROUND NOW CLOSES AT 3,000 COMMENTS
RULES OF THE KINK MEME: ( Read more... )
On the fifth night of his recovery, when he was still dead, when McCoy had managed to finally send Spock away to get some sleep and she’d just gotten up from a restless night, the doctor had looked at her looking at him and said, “I’ll give you a minute,” and then left the room to give her an hour. She’d only had gentle things to say to Jim then, and she did not know how to tell him that, or to tell him that she had cried very hard in the clinging fear that he would never wake up, or that she had (just this thing, just this once, nobody else in the world will ever have to know about this one time) leaned over him then and kissed him on the lips.
And when he’d been okay after all, something in her had free-falled away from him and also into him, hanging on like a superstition to the fact that since the very beginning of her years of knowing James T. Kirk she’d made more than enough of the right arrangements to ensure that this would never be her feeling for him. But then having to have him closer still, closer but never kissing, never on the mouth, no matter how badly she wanted to stray there every time. It was such a small thing, she told herself, it was only this one act, this one place. And how much can you even do with a mouth, his mouth, his mouth-
She croaked his name out in ecstatic alarm at the careful firmness, the pace of his tasting just shy of enough so that the world creaked almost to a halt to wait for her breath to steady, steady, but it wouldn’t steady. He moaned a long noise, almost a pained noise, drawing even slower as her gasps and groans heightened to begging. Her fingers found his hair in a tight unconscious grip and one of his hands reached around to grasp that hand in a simple loving hold before traveling up to find a breast. Her mind poured out of lucidity and into a single obsession with wet, wet against wet and how much is a mouth, how much for a heart, how much did she want to taste that tongue that tasted her? Would it ever be enough?
“Please, oh, please,” she moaned, and she knew that when he brought her over to sated, it wouldn’t be the answer. It wouldn’t be the end. She heard him nudging a hand into his pants now, could feel the motion of him beginning to stroke himself. He was already shuddering and close after a short moment, groaning in agreement as her hips stuttered up at him and her back fell hard against the unforgiving surface beneath her and her blood charged up in the loud, loud throw.
After, his head fell to rest on her abdomen, and she stroked his hair for a long time as they caught their breath. There was a strange noise off in the distance of the wild, like cicadas but low and lazily rhythmic. After a while he moved and she felt him carefully sliding her panties back up over her knees, and she sat up to pull them the rest of the way and heard him shifting back into his shirts. She slipped off of the hard plane and back onto the gravel, and they began to walk again.
The darkness had thickened more dangerously; after they had both tripped on something a couple times they began to hold hands. But she did not speak. She couldn’t think of what to say, other than something pulled out of sequence, a number that lost its meaning in the encryption. A middle to some beginning that hadn’t happened, because she couldn’t think about the end.
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