Close Your Eyes and Count to Ten
Title: Close Your Eyes and Count to Ten
Author: eneiryu
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 921
Prompt: Either Spock/Bones or Bones/Kirk. Angry!Sex please. Link
Warnings: Sex.
Notes: Oh snap. Just noticed this wasn't a Spock/Kirk. Sorry!
Follow-up to this: http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/379.html?thread=332411#t332411
Followed by this: http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/379.html?thread=14971#t870011
I'll get those into actual links on this journal once I get to those prompts - it's just going to take a bit of time.
Kirk is mildly impressed with himself when he manages to make it a good three days without acknowledging what happened between him and Spock. And because of that, of course, it hits him at the worst time. The bridge is filled with just about everyone with rank aboard the Enterprise, Bones, Scotty and Spock included, when Kirk just sort of…loses it. Calmly. But loses it.
Standing, he informs Chekov that he has the conn and doesn’t add, because I need to go have a panic attack. All eyes are on him as he leaves, curious but more than a little wary, and Kirk’s pretty sure it’s the washed-out look on his face that’s gluing his crew member’s tongues to the roofs of their mouths.
He heads for an observation deck partly because it’s almost guaranteed that no one will be there, but also because staring out into the abyss and having it stare back into him could do him some good, or whatever. Once there, he mumbles out a locking code that only his first officer or he can disable, which maybe should tell him something, and presses his face against the nearest cold surface he can find.
That is, of course, how Spock finds him not two minutes later. Jim’s not the least bit surprised when the door opens to reveal Spock, as the Vulcan’s sense of responsibility is legendary, even if his capacity for emotion is not. Still, Jim doesn’t say a word and neither does Spock, and if it wasn’t for the Enterprise humming steadily under his palms, Jim is sure he would’ve already collapsed.
Captain, Spock starts, not hesitant because Spock is never hesitant, but careful, which bothers Jim more.
Don’t, Jim snaps out darkly, not willing and not able to do this.
Captain, Spock says again, but its heavy this time, saturated with the emotion that most of the time, the Vulcan pretends not to possess.
And that, that right there, is the last straw.
Jim swings around, fast enough and angry enough that Spock does nothing but take the right hook that Jim throws at him. The Vulcan’s head turns slowly back towards him and Jim thinks, yes, this is it, this is what I need, but Spock doesn’t suddenly attack him, doesn’t respond with the violence that Jim craves. Instead, he studies Jim and the heaving of his shoulders, those dark eyes seeing more than Jim wants them to.
Is this what you want? Spock asks, quiet.
This isn’t about what I want, Jim mocks, or yells, because there’s hysteria bubbling in the back of his throat and he’s shaking with three day’s worth of pent-up…everything.
Then what is it about? Spock hasn’t moved, hasn’t reached for Jim’s forehead or curled his hands into fists, and ohjesus, they’ve never been at more of an impasse.
It’s there, what they won’t say, and Jim isn’t some rape victim who needs to be comforted and gentled into his new reality. What he needs is equal footing, and this is the only way he’s going to get it.
Spock counters his next attack, more from instinct than from any desire to fight, but Jim thinks God yes and licks at the blood from his split lip. The Vulcan across from him watches, and Jim gets it, suddenly, gets what this was never supposed to mean and what it does mean, in hindsight. But that’s not enough, and so he lunges at Spock again, cries out when Spock catches his fist and twists it, but he’s grinning like a lunatic and bordering on the edge of mania.
C’mon, He snarls, C’mon!
Spock throws his arm away, settles into a fighting pose, and he’s not talking anymore, for which Jim is beyond grateful. He needs violence, not apologies, and his next attack is met with equal fervor. And here it is, the base of their conflict, two men trying desperately to be their fathers - or not - with anger bleeding white-hot through their veins and fury brightening their eyes.
What they didn’t see coming, or maybe did; how fast it degenerates into something entirely different. Spock pins him against the wall, shoves against him to keep him from moving, and they’re both blindingly, achingly hard. But this is a fight, and Jim won’t let it be anything else, and so he bites at Spock’s neck hard and feels the Vulcan go stiff against him.
Immediately, Spock’s hand drops from Jim’s shoulder to his hip, digging in hard and bruising. Jim hisses, grinds forward against Spock’s own hardness, arches back when Spock’s response is to snarl and rip at Jim’s uniform. Again? Jim thinks, but lets it go when Spock gets a hand around him and jerks, rough and just this side of painful.
Jim, still caught up in adrenaline and an all-consuming desire to prove something, anything, palms Spock’s erection in return and that’s it, Spock loses it, and here they go again. It’s as quick and rough - perhaps more so - as the first time, Spock shoving into him hard and unforgiving and Jim hissing and writhing and fighting underneath him.
What makes it different from before; the way Jim’s forehead drops to Spock’s shoulder when it’s done, the way Spock stays pressed against him, sweat-slick and still shuddering with climax. Oh God, Jim thinks, swallows back a sob, because this isn’t a storybook novel and this is not their happy ending.
Captain, Whispered, now, so low and so close that maybe it’s just Jim feeling Spock’s lips move against his cheek.
Don’t, Quiet, now, pressed against Spock’s skin.
Around them, the Enterprise keeps humming her steady song.
Author: eneiryu
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 921
Prompt: Either Spock/Bones or Bones/Kirk. Angry!Sex please. Link
Warnings: Sex.
Notes: Oh snap. Just noticed this wasn't a Spock/Kirk. Sorry!
Follow-up to this: http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/379.html?thread=332411#t332411
Followed by this: http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/379.html?thread=14971#t870011
I'll get those into actual links on this journal once I get to those prompts - it's just going to take a bit of time.
Kirk is mildly impressed with himself when he manages to make it a good three days without acknowledging what happened between him and Spock. And because of that, of course, it hits him at the worst time. The bridge is filled with just about everyone with rank aboard the Enterprise, Bones, Scotty and Spock included, when Kirk just sort of…loses it. Calmly. But loses it.
Standing, he informs Chekov that he has the conn and doesn’t add, because I need to go have a panic attack. All eyes are on him as he leaves, curious but more than a little wary, and Kirk’s pretty sure it’s the washed-out look on his face that’s gluing his crew member’s tongues to the roofs of their mouths.
He heads for an observation deck partly because it’s almost guaranteed that no one will be there, but also because staring out into the abyss and having it stare back into him could do him some good, or whatever. Once there, he mumbles out a locking code that only his first officer or he can disable, which maybe should tell him something, and presses his face against the nearest cold surface he can find.
That is, of course, how Spock finds him not two minutes later. Jim’s not the least bit surprised when the door opens to reveal Spock, as the Vulcan’s sense of responsibility is legendary, even if his capacity for emotion is not. Still, Jim doesn’t say a word and neither does Spock, and if it wasn’t for the Enterprise humming steadily under his palms, Jim is sure he would’ve already collapsed.
Captain, Spock starts, not hesitant because Spock is never hesitant, but careful, which bothers Jim more.
Don’t, Jim snaps out darkly, not willing and not able to do this.
Captain, Spock says again, but its heavy this time, saturated with the emotion that most of the time, the Vulcan pretends not to possess.
And that, that right there, is the last straw.
Jim swings around, fast enough and angry enough that Spock does nothing but take the right hook that Jim throws at him. The Vulcan’s head turns slowly back towards him and Jim thinks, yes, this is it, this is what I need, but Spock doesn’t suddenly attack him, doesn’t respond with the violence that Jim craves. Instead, he studies Jim and the heaving of his shoulders, those dark eyes seeing more than Jim wants them to.
Is this what you want? Spock asks, quiet.
This isn’t about what I want, Jim mocks, or yells, because there’s hysteria bubbling in the back of his throat and he’s shaking with three day’s worth of pent-up…everything.
Then what is it about? Spock hasn’t moved, hasn’t reached for Jim’s forehead or curled his hands into fists, and ohjesus, they’ve never been at more of an impasse.
It’s there, what they won’t say, and Jim isn’t some rape victim who needs to be comforted and gentled into his new reality. What he needs is equal footing, and this is the only way he’s going to get it.
Spock counters his next attack, more from instinct than from any desire to fight, but Jim thinks God yes and licks at the blood from his split lip. The Vulcan across from him watches, and Jim gets it, suddenly, gets what this was never supposed to mean and what it does mean, in hindsight. But that’s not enough, and so he lunges at Spock again, cries out when Spock catches his fist and twists it, but he’s grinning like a lunatic and bordering on the edge of mania.
C’mon, He snarls, C’mon!
Spock throws his arm away, settles into a fighting pose, and he’s not talking anymore, for which Jim is beyond grateful. He needs violence, not apologies, and his next attack is met with equal fervor. And here it is, the base of their conflict, two men trying desperately to be their fathers - or not - with anger bleeding white-hot through their veins and fury brightening their eyes.
What they didn’t see coming, or maybe did; how fast it degenerates into something entirely different. Spock pins him against the wall, shoves against him to keep him from moving, and they’re both blindingly, achingly hard. But this is a fight, and Jim won’t let it be anything else, and so he bites at Spock’s neck hard and feels the Vulcan go stiff against him.
Immediately, Spock’s hand drops from Jim’s shoulder to his hip, digging in hard and bruising. Jim hisses, grinds forward against Spock’s own hardness, arches back when Spock’s response is to snarl and rip at Jim’s uniform. Again? Jim thinks, but lets it go when Spock gets a hand around him and jerks, rough and just this side of painful.
Jim, still caught up in adrenaline and an all-consuming desire to prove something, anything, palms Spock’s erection in return and that’s it, Spock loses it, and here they go again. It’s as quick and rough - perhaps more so - as the first time, Spock shoving into him hard and unforgiving and Jim hissing and writhing and fighting underneath him.
What makes it different from before; the way Jim’s forehead drops to Spock’s shoulder when it’s done, the way Spock stays pressed against him, sweat-slick and still shuddering with climax. Oh God, Jim thinks, swallows back a sob, because this isn’t a storybook novel and this is not their happy ending.
Captain, Whispered, now, so low and so close that maybe it’s just Jim feeling Spock’s lips move against his cheek.
Don’t, Quiet, now, pressed against Spock’s skin.
Around them, the Enterprise keeps humming her steady song.