Inked, Marked, and Claimed (Kirk/Spock)
Title: Inked, Marked, and Claimed
Author: zoetrope13
Universe: AU, Reboot
Rating: R
Relationship Status: Established
Genre: Romance
Length: 1,800 words
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Trope: Bonding, destiny, academy (implied)
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Summary: Set previous to the Perfect Man, but it is not necessary to have read it to read this. Spock is perplexed by Jim's need for a physical representation for their bond. This is the origin story of Jim's tattoo and Spock's fascination with it.
Notes: Now that finals are winding down I'll start to post fic again and actually finish that wip I have. So a Perfect Man got recc'ed/mention a bunch on the Kirk/Spock comm recently, which I appreciate like whoa, and someone mentioned Kirk's tattoo and it sparked a story.
Notes part II: Now with art of Jim with tattoos by the lovely arminaa
Spock stared at his mother. More accurately, he stared at the comm screen. Spock thought that it was likely that Jim would have called what Spock was doing frowning, but really he was waiting for illogical actions to become clearer so that he might understand them with logic. More specifically, he was waiting for his mother to explain why she was laughing at him after he had asked her opinion on a matter that had been plaguing him for the past six days.
“Spock,” she said, not unkindly shaking her head and smiling. “Why are you asking me, when you could be asking Jim?”
Spock shifted slightly in his seat. His mother had the ability to make him feel as he had before he left Vulcan for the Academy. “When I ask Jim he will explain how he feels about the subject at great length but at the conclusion of his speech I still have not been able to determine what he truly wants.”
“But what you have been able to determine is that he wants a wedding ring, which you find illogical.” She was not laughing, but she was smiling broadly. An expression that reminded him strongly of Jim, who had given him that same expression that morning for no other reason than Spock had just handed him a cup of tea. Suddenly Spock wanted to terminate the conversation and find Jim to see if he could get him to smile like that just by walking into the room. It had happened in the past.
“We are bonded,” Spock said by way of explanation. “What better token of our commitment to each other than the joining of our minds? He has my thoughts, he can feel my commitment, my devotion--” while Spock will imply it he refrained from directly mentioning love in front of his parents, the same way Jim dealt with the mention of sex and his parents “--a trinket can not better symbolize our bond and the fact that with me he will never again be alone. He implied that it had to do with human customs. Did you feel this same need after you were bonded?”
“Did he ask for a ring?” His mother asked, rather than answer his question.
“Not specifically, just a tangible physical representation of our bond.”
“Would such a thing upset you?”
Spock just looked at her.
“Ignore that, of course nothing Jim could ever do would vex you.”
Spock’s gaze intensified.
“I’m very happy for you both,” she said, somewhat mysteriously and out of context, Spock thought. “Tell him that you do not understand the need for it, but if he wishes he is welcome to get a physical representation of the bond. And that you will help him obtain it if he so wishes.”
“You believe this to be the most logical course of action?”
“I do. And Spock,” she added smiling broadly again, “I really am happy that the two of you found each other, so young too. You’re so good for each other. It makes it easier for me knowing that you aren’t spending all your time down in a lab somewhere being studious all the time.”
“There is nothing wrong with being studious.”
“Unless you are replacing data and research with a fulfilling life. There are those who do things to define their lives and those who do them to enrich their lives. I just want you to understand the difference.”
Spock wondered then how she could both give him that advice and approve so heartily of his relationship with Jim, for it defined his life.
“I understand, and I appreciate the advice.”
“Good luck, Spock.”
“Live long and prosper.” He disconnected.
Spock sat there for a moment in his office just breathing. This was his room, just as Jim had his own elsewhere in the apartment. While they would never want to leave the other and enjoyed each other’s company they discovered in the early days of their shared living space that they each needed time to themselves or at least a secluded, quiet space to do their respective work.
Spock found Jim sprawled out on the couch in their living room reading one of the paper books that they kept.
“Did you have fun discussing my illogical tendencies with your equally illogical mother?” Jim asked without looking up from his book.
“I did no such thing,” said Spock, settling down next to Jim, shifting him until Jim was partially resting on Spock.
“You better be referring to having fun, because I know you discussed me with your mother.”
“My mother is not nearly as illogical as you, Jim.” Spock said, running his hand through Jim’s hair.
Jim snorted quietly in amusement and went back to reading. Spock sat there stroking his hair and enjoying the low comforting buzz of complex layers of thoughts and emotions thrumming between him and Jim.
“Jim,” Spock said when Jim got to the end of a chapter. He stroked his thumb down over Jim’s cheekbone, Jim leaned into the touch.
“Yeah?”
“I do not understand the need for it, but if you wish to do so you are welcome to get a physical representation of the bond. And if you desire I will help you obtain it.”
“Thanks, Spock.” Jim kissed him affectionally on the nose, which made Spock squirm almost minutely, but Jim saw and grinned and did it again.
“Starfleet officers are not permitted to wear jewelry,” Spock reminded him.
“I know. Hey, could you get out that book full of the ancient writings and illustrations about T’hy’la?”
“Certainly,” Spock said. Before he left to retrieve the book he leaned forward and swiftly kissed Jim on the nose, startling a delighted laugh out of his bondmate.
------
Jim stood before him thrumming with nervous energy. “I know you don’t understand it, but I needed it.”
“I do not understand it, you required a physical manifestation of the bond, but most times it will be as visible as the bond itself.”
“Hush, Spock. I wasn’t finished.”
“It seemed you were on the verge of rambling I could not determine--”
“Spock.”
Spock just looked at his bondmate, still slightly flushed from the rush he experienced earlier and eager for Spock’s understanding and approval, Spock would endeavor to give this to him.
“And I know tattoos aren’t something they really do on Vulcan and you see them as vaguely barbaric.” Spock opened his mouth, Jim frowned, and he shut it again. “But they have equipment to heal it and make sure it’s permanent and pain-free. I mean it’s a little tender, but...”
“Jim,” Spock said gently, softly, unsure if he was allowed this yet. “May I see it?”
“I--oh, yeah. Sorry for being frustrating by hiding the design from you in my thoughts. I just wanted it to be perfect, I wanted you to see it for the first time on my skin.”
Jim turned around, presenting Spock with a view he never tired of.
“I went to a Vucan artist to get it done. I wanted the script to be accurate.
Jim stretched his arms up and lifted his white t-shirt over his head, revealing a tattoo inked in black elegant lines, high on his back stretching between his shoulder blades.
Spock lost his breath.
It was an intricate design, an intricate rune expressing a complex but elementary idea. It was an ancient rune. It was the symbol for bondmate, mixed with that of t’hy’la proclaiming Jim more than just a bondmate, but half of a soul. In the center was the ancient rune that Spock’s clan, his family had used--still use--to identify themselves.
What Jim had inked on his back identified him as part of Spock’s soul. He did not understand Jim’s reasoning for getting it, but that did not mean he could not appreciate it. Something primal stirred in him at seeing the physical mark that proclaim Jim as his.
Jim shifted under his gaze, still facing away from Spock.
“Do you...do you like it. I mean I know they’re supposed to be permanent, but if you hate it I can get it removed.”
“No!” Spock said forcefully, startling Jim, who whipped around to look at him a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I knew you’d like it.”
Spock made a vaguely irritated sound. “Jim, turn back around.”
Jim laughed, but complied.
Spock walked forward, eyes locked on the script inked into his bondmate’s skin. First Spock traced it lightly with his fingertips, Jim shivering slightly from the sensation against his newly sensitive skin. Then Spock traced it with his tongue. The artist had done a good job, Spock could hardly detect any taste besides the familiar taste of Jim’s skin. When Jim’s frame began to shake from the sensations of Spock’s mouth mapping out the marking, Spock gripped Jim’s hips to prevent him from losing his balance.
With Spock fingers digging into Jim’s hips, Jim moaned and rubbed back against him, alerting him to the fact that Spock was aching hard within the confines of his pants.
“T’hy’la,” Spock murmured against the wet skin, before he slipped his hand into Jim’s pants, rubbing and stroking him expertly.
“Yes, mmm, Spock. Need you.”
“Jim, you have me.” He continued his ministrations drawing sighs and gasps and movements from Jim that in turn increased Spock’s own pleasure.
“I’m glad you like the tattoo,” Jim said, his voice rough with pleasure and laughter.
“You have marked yourself as mine,” he paused to nip at the mark in question. “It arouses primal urges in me to validate that mark, that claim.”
“Fuckin’ sexy,” Jim said, throwing his head back onto Spock shoulder, shamelessly thrusting forward into the tight grip of Spock’s hand and rubbing back against Spock’s trapped erection.
“Indeed,” Spock agreed. His view of the tattoo blocked, he settled for sucking a bruise high on Jim’s neck.
Spock recognized the signs of Jim’s impending orgasm and speed his one hand and with his other he linked their minds into a full meld, sending encouraging phrases and endearments swirling into Jim’s thoughts, sharing in each other’s pleasure, until Jim came hard in his hand.
Triggered by it all, Spock thrust erratically forward against Jim, until he too had spent himself in his pants.
Jim slumped back against Spock and gave him a grin that lit up his features. “This is the first time we’ve come in our pants together.”
“You were always quite efficient at removing that particular garment,” Spock noted.
“Mmm, shower?”
As he pushed Jim face forward against the wall of the shower and once again ran his mouth over the ink that marked Jim as Spock’s other half, and in turn as Spock as a part Jim’s soul, he reflected that perhaps it was not as illogical as he had first presumed. Then Jim breathed out his name, soft and loving and all thought besides Jim was driven from his mind.
Author: zoetrope13
Universe: AU, Reboot
Rating: R
Relationship Status: Established
Genre: Romance
Length: 1,800 words
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Trope: Bonding, destiny, academy (implied)
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Summary: Set previous to the Perfect Man, but it is not necessary to have read it to read this. Spock is perplexed by Jim's need for a physical representation for their bond. This is the origin story of Jim's tattoo and Spock's fascination with it.
Notes: Now that finals are winding down I'll start to post fic again and actually finish that wip I have. So a Perfect Man got recc'ed/mention a bunch on the Kirk/Spock comm recently, which I appreciate like whoa, and someone mentioned Kirk's tattoo and it sparked a story.
Notes part II: Now with art of Jim with tattoos by the lovely arminaa
Spock stared at his mother. More accurately, he stared at the comm screen. Spock thought that it was likely that Jim would have called what Spock was doing frowning, but really he was waiting for illogical actions to become clearer so that he might understand them with logic. More specifically, he was waiting for his mother to explain why she was laughing at him after he had asked her opinion on a matter that had been plaguing him for the past six days.
“Spock,” she said, not unkindly shaking her head and smiling. “Why are you asking me, when you could be asking Jim?”
Spock shifted slightly in his seat. His mother had the ability to make him feel as he had before he left Vulcan for the Academy. “When I ask Jim he will explain how he feels about the subject at great length but at the conclusion of his speech I still have not been able to determine what he truly wants.”
“But what you have been able to determine is that he wants a wedding ring, which you find illogical.” She was not laughing, but she was smiling broadly. An expression that reminded him strongly of Jim, who had given him that same expression that morning for no other reason than Spock had just handed him a cup of tea. Suddenly Spock wanted to terminate the conversation and find Jim to see if he could get him to smile like that just by walking into the room. It had happened in the past.
“We are bonded,” Spock said by way of explanation. “What better token of our commitment to each other than the joining of our minds? He has my thoughts, he can feel my commitment, my devotion--” while Spock will imply it he refrained from directly mentioning love in front of his parents, the same way Jim dealt with the mention of sex and his parents “--a trinket can not better symbolize our bond and the fact that with me he will never again be alone. He implied that it had to do with human customs. Did you feel this same need after you were bonded?”
“Did he ask for a ring?” His mother asked, rather than answer his question.
“Not specifically, just a tangible physical representation of our bond.”
“Would such a thing upset you?”
Spock just looked at her.
“Ignore that, of course nothing Jim could ever do would vex you.”
Spock’s gaze intensified.
“I’m very happy for you both,” she said, somewhat mysteriously and out of context, Spock thought. “Tell him that you do not understand the need for it, but if he wishes he is welcome to get a physical representation of the bond. And that you will help him obtain it if he so wishes.”
“You believe this to be the most logical course of action?”
“I do. And Spock,” she added smiling broadly again, “I really am happy that the two of you found each other, so young too. You’re so good for each other. It makes it easier for me knowing that you aren’t spending all your time down in a lab somewhere being studious all the time.”
“There is nothing wrong with being studious.”
“Unless you are replacing data and research with a fulfilling life. There are those who do things to define their lives and those who do them to enrich their lives. I just want you to understand the difference.”
Spock wondered then how she could both give him that advice and approve so heartily of his relationship with Jim, for it defined his life.
“I understand, and I appreciate the advice.”
“Good luck, Spock.”
“Live long and prosper.” He disconnected.
Spock sat there for a moment in his office just breathing. This was his room, just as Jim had his own elsewhere in the apartment. While they would never want to leave the other and enjoyed each other’s company they discovered in the early days of their shared living space that they each needed time to themselves or at least a secluded, quiet space to do their respective work.
Spock found Jim sprawled out on the couch in their living room reading one of the paper books that they kept.
“Did you have fun discussing my illogical tendencies with your equally illogical mother?” Jim asked without looking up from his book.
“I did no such thing,” said Spock, settling down next to Jim, shifting him until Jim was partially resting on Spock.
“You better be referring to having fun, because I know you discussed me with your mother.”
“My mother is not nearly as illogical as you, Jim.” Spock said, running his hand through Jim’s hair.
Jim snorted quietly in amusement and went back to reading. Spock sat there stroking his hair and enjoying the low comforting buzz of complex layers of thoughts and emotions thrumming between him and Jim.
“Jim,” Spock said when Jim got to the end of a chapter. He stroked his thumb down over Jim’s cheekbone, Jim leaned into the touch.
“Yeah?”
“I do not understand the need for it, but if you wish to do so you are welcome to get a physical representation of the bond. And if you desire I will help you obtain it.”
“Thanks, Spock.” Jim kissed him affectionally on the nose, which made Spock squirm almost minutely, but Jim saw and grinned and did it again.
“Starfleet officers are not permitted to wear jewelry,” Spock reminded him.
“I know. Hey, could you get out that book full of the ancient writings and illustrations about T’hy’la?”
“Certainly,” Spock said. Before he left to retrieve the book he leaned forward and swiftly kissed Jim on the nose, startling a delighted laugh out of his bondmate.
------
Jim stood before him thrumming with nervous energy. “I know you don’t understand it, but I needed it.”
“I do not understand it, you required a physical manifestation of the bond, but most times it will be as visible as the bond itself.”
“Hush, Spock. I wasn’t finished.”
“It seemed you were on the verge of rambling I could not determine--”
“Spock.”
Spock just looked at his bondmate, still slightly flushed from the rush he experienced earlier and eager for Spock’s understanding and approval, Spock would endeavor to give this to him.
“And I know tattoos aren’t something they really do on Vulcan and you see them as vaguely barbaric.” Spock opened his mouth, Jim frowned, and he shut it again. “But they have equipment to heal it and make sure it’s permanent and pain-free. I mean it’s a little tender, but...”
“Jim,” Spock said gently, softly, unsure if he was allowed this yet. “May I see it?”
“I--oh, yeah. Sorry for being frustrating by hiding the design from you in my thoughts. I just wanted it to be perfect, I wanted you to see it for the first time on my skin.”
Jim turned around, presenting Spock with a view he never tired of.
“I went to a Vucan artist to get it done. I wanted the script to be accurate.
Jim stretched his arms up and lifted his white t-shirt over his head, revealing a tattoo inked in black elegant lines, high on his back stretching between his shoulder blades.
Spock lost his breath.
It was an intricate design, an intricate rune expressing a complex but elementary idea. It was an ancient rune. It was the symbol for bondmate, mixed with that of t’hy’la proclaiming Jim more than just a bondmate, but half of a soul. In the center was the ancient rune that Spock’s clan, his family had used--still use--to identify themselves.
What Jim had inked on his back identified him as part of Spock’s soul. He did not understand Jim’s reasoning for getting it, but that did not mean he could not appreciate it. Something primal stirred in him at seeing the physical mark that proclaim Jim as his.
Jim shifted under his gaze, still facing away from Spock.
“Do you...do you like it. I mean I know they’re supposed to be permanent, but if you hate it I can get it removed.”
“No!” Spock said forcefully, startling Jim, who whipped around to look at him a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I knew you’d like it.”
Spock made a vaguely irritated sound. “Jim, turn back around.”
Jim laughed, but complied.
Spock walked forward, eyes locked on the script inked into his bondmate’s skin. First Spock traced it lightly with his fingertips, Jim shivering slightly from the sensation against his newly sensitive skin. Then Spock traced it with his tongue. The artist had done a good job, Spock could hardly detect any taste besides the familiar taste of Jim’s skin. When Jim’s frame began to shake from the sensations of Spock’s mouth mapping out the marking, Spock gripped Jim’s hips to prevent him from losing his balance.
With Spock fingers digging into Jim’s hips, Jim moaned and rubbed back against him, alerting him to the fact that Spock was aching hard within the confines of his pants.
“T’hy’la,” Spock murmured against the wet skin, before he slipped his hand into Jim’s pants, rubbing and stroking him expertly.
“Yes, mmm, Spock. Need you.”
“Jim, you have me.” He continued his ministrations drawing sighs and gasps and movements from Jim that in turn increased Spock’s own pleasure.
“I’m glad you like the tattoo,” Jim said, his voice rough with pleasure and laughter.
“You have marked yourself as mine,” he paused to nip at the mark in question. “It arouses primal urges in me to validate that mark, that claim.”
“Fuckin’ sexy,” Jim said, throwing his head back onto Spock shoulder, shamelessly thrusting forward into the tight grip of Spock’s hand and rubbing back against Spock’s trapped erection.
“Indeed,” Spock agreed. His view of the tattoo blocked, he settled for sucking a bruise high on Jim’s neck.
Spock recognized the signs of Jim’s impending orgasm and speed his one hand and with his other he linked their minds into a full meld, sending encouraging phrases and endearments swirling into Jim’s thoughts, sharing in each other’s pleasure, until Jim came hard in his hand.
Triggered by it all, Spock thrust erratically forward against Jim, until he too had spent himself in his pants.
Jim slumped back against Spock and gave him a grin that lit up his features. “This is the first time we’ve come in our pants together.”
“You were always quite efficient at removing that particular garment,” Spock noted.
“Mmm, shower?”
As he pushed Jim face forward against the wall of the shower and once again ran his mouth over the ink that marked Jim as Spock’s other half, and in turn as Spock as a part Jim’s soul, he reflected that perhaps it was not as illogical as he had first presumed. Then Jim breathed out his name, soft and loving and all thought besides Jim was driven from his mind.