Fic: Ink Stains
Title: Ink Stains
Universe: XI
Rating: NC-17
Relationship status: first time
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (hints of Jim/others)
Word count: 6024
Genre: humor
Trope: intoxication, shore leave
Warning: Language, graphic sex, rimming, tattooing.
A/N: Just a fun fic I wrote. :) Enjoy.
Summary: On shore leave Jim gets very drunk and makes a number of mistakes, one of them being a tattoo of Spock’s name on his ass. Spock doesn’t exactly mind.
Ink Stains
Jim wakes up on his stomach with a sheet over his head. He pushes the sheet down slowly, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights of his room that he failed to order down before passing out. He sits up, his throat dry and rough as he stumbles out of bed and toward the replicator, quickly grabbing a cup of water and downing it in one go.
He chuckles to himself at his own stupidity before immediately cringing as his stomach turns over in warning. He only remembers vague bits of the night before, but considering he’s woken up naked and alone, it won’t rank in his top ten. He stumbles toward the bathroom he shares with Spock and opens the door, moving into the bathroom quickly and splashing water on his face.
He turns around, his ass settling against the edge of the sink when he suddenly hisses; moving away and trying to look over his shoulder to see what caused the pain. It’s not a good pain, like when he’s sore from sex with a guy, but more of a biting pain. He turns his ass toward the mirror and looks over his shoulder to the reflection, and his hearts stops as his eyes widen.
On his right ass cheek is tattooed ‘Spock’ in flowing, elegant script. It’s only a few inches across but it’s enough to make him want to vomit at the same time as laughing his ass off. He reaches back to run a finger over the black script inked into his ass cheek and hisses again, pulling his hand away.
He goes back into the bedroom and pulls on some pants and a top before opening the door of his quarters and peering out into the empty corridor.
Jim creeps toward sickbay like he’s a ninja, keeping his back to the walls like people will be able to see through his pants to the tattoo on his ass if he turns his back to them. Thankfully, he only passes a few people, who give him smirks that make him wonder if they can in fact see through his pants, before he walks into sickbay, finding McCoy immediately and walking over to him.
“Morning Jim,” McCoy says brightly.
“The lights in here always this bright?” Jim asks, his arm going across his eyes.
“Sure are,” McCoy says, like he’s getting a delighted pleasure in Jim’s pain.
“I need to talk to you alone,” Jim mutters quietly, even though there’s no one in hearing distance.
McCoy gets up, a small smile still causing an unsettled feeling in Jim’s stomach as he swaggers over to his office, Jim following with his shoulders slumped and eyes heavy lidded.
“I did something stupid last night,” Jim says the second McCoy shuts the door.
“I’ll say,” McCoy says, rolling his eyes.
Jim frowns. “You were with me?”
“At what point? When you kissed Sulu or when you told Spock you would love it if he would just dominate your ass and skip the pleasantries?”
Jim stares at him, his mouth falling open and an embarrassed flush crosses his face. “Really? I did that?”
McCoy nods slowly, his eyes narrowing. “What were you talking about?”
“Promise you won’t laugh,” Jim says, his hands sliding around to cup his own ass tenderly.
“Jim, I’ve seen you get your head stuck in an air ventilator when you were trying to reach a chocolate bar. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Jim turns slowly so his back is to McCoy, his fingers unbuttoning his pants slowly and lowering them. He takes a long intake of breath, looking skyward as he waits for a reaction… any reaction. After a minute, Jim turns to see McCoy, sitting on a chair, eyes comically wide and a hand over his mouth as his body shakes from silent laughter.
“Can you get rid of it?” Jim asks quickly. McCoy’s eyes flicker to his, and Jim can tell he’s doing his best not to take a picture and make it accessible ship wide.
“This isn’t normal ink, Jim. They used the real stuff on Franna IV. This can’t be taken out of skin.” Jim swears he hears a sliver of glee in McCoy’s tone as he tries to tell him seriously.
“No, unacceptable,” Jim says, turning around, eyes wide in panic. “You’re my doctor, get rid of it.”
“Put your penis away,” McCoy grumbles as Jim hastily pulls up his pants and buttons them. “Look, I’ll look and see what I can come up with, but that ink is pretty permanent.”
“I cannot have Spock’s name written on my ass for the rest of my life. When guys try to… you know, get it on with me, they’ll see his name and ask questions. I don’t want to be asked questions when I’m about to have sex, it’s inconvenient,” Jim says, his voice raised and bordering on hysterical.
McCoy looks at him, his eyes shining with amusement as he attempts to remain professional.
“I’ll see what I can do,” McCoy says, his voice almost breaking with laughter as he tries to school his features.
“I hate you,” Jim says, trying his best to storm out of the office, even as he limps slightly when the fabric of his pants rubs painfully against his tattoo.
…
“Hey,” Jim says softly, his eyes bright as he catches Sulu on the way to the bridge. “I think I owe you an apology, for last night.”
Sulu looks at him with a mixture of wariness and amusement. “S’alright. Not the first time I’ve had a guy stick his tongue down my throat.”
“OK, well, good. It was unprofessional so sorry,” Jim says nervously.
Sulu smacks him on the side in a friendly gesture. “Forget about it.”
“Thanks,” Jim says as they walk into the turbolift.
“So, you doing the rounds then? Probably would have been easier to just send out a ship wide transmission,” Sulu says with a light smirk as he rests against the side of the lift.
Jim screws up his face in confusion. “I need to apologise to Spock…but, err, who else?”
Sulu’s smirk becomes darker. “Well, I wasn’t the only guy you kissed.”
“You serious?” Jim says, his voice higher as his eyes widen.
“Well, you grabbed Chekov’s ass and told him that if he were legal, you’d let him do you. Then you went and told McCoy that his accent is so hot it makes you horny, and you then proceeded to kiss him, a lot. Oh, and you announced to the bar that you have a really large penis.”
Jim slides down the turbolift wall until he’s crouched down, his head bowed with shame. “Bones didn’t mention that. Anything else?”
“You want all of it? Well, you started quizzing Uhura on the size of Spock’s penis and whether, in her professional opinion, you could take him, and then you told Spock you want him to dominate you in an animal Vulcan way or something. You slow danced with Scotty, and you also told Chapel that she has amazing hair and then petted her. It was hysterically funny.”
“Sounds it,” Jim says dryly, his legs becoming outstretched in front of him and his ass painful against the turbolift floor. The doors open and Sulu starts to walk out before realising Jim isn’t making an effort to move.
“You not coming? You’re captain and everything, so it’d be kind of inconvenient if you didn’t come.”
“Leave me here to die in peace,” Jim whines, his chin pressed to his chest.
Sulu lets out a long sigh before pressing a button to keep the lift doors open and taking in a breath. “Spock, your captain won’t come out of the lift,” Sulu yells across the bridge, causing the bridge crew all to the swivel their chairs in the turbolift’s direction.
Spock suddenly appears, his eyes slightly concerned. “Is he well?”
“Other than a bruised ego, I think so,” Sulu nods, his arms folded over his chest and a completely unsympathetic look on his face.
Jim looks between them as Spock stares down at him expectantly, and sighs.
“Fine, I’m coming,” Jim mumbles, pushing himself up and stalking onto the silent bridge, everyone’s eyes on him. Jim clears his throat loudly, trying to relax his posture as he rounds his chair and stands in front of it. “I’d like to, err, apologise for my behaviour last night. If I groped you, or kissed you, or said something inappropriate, then please accept my deepest apologies. Now, maybe we can just forget about it and return to work.”
A lot of amused gazes are exchanged before people move back to their stations.
Jim lets out a relieved sigh, shooting Chekov a sorry look, before sitting down in his chair and releasing a loud hiss. He quickly adjusts his seating position so he isn’t putting all his weight on his right ass cheek.
The noise attracts everyone’s attention and then all turn, as one, to stare at him. Spock cocks his head to the side, glancing down Jim’s body in consideration and minor confusion.
“Mind your own business,” Jim snaps sharply, causing everyone to quickly avert their eyes and get back to work.
Shift goes by tediously slowly, with Jim receiving a lot of glances in his direction that make him constantly on edge and slightly embarrassed. Things get worse when halfway through his shift; McCoy wanders onto the bridge, a mischievous glint in his eye. Jim knows that look and is immediately on alert.
“What brings you here?” Jim asks casually.
“Just wondered if your ass tattoo was causing you some discomfort? Brought you some cream.” McCoy holds up a small white tube.
Jim looks up at him, his eyes resolutely not straying to where everybody is staring at him, looks of shock and delight covering their faces.
“I told you that in confidence,” Jim says quietly through gritted teeth.
“You never said I was acting as your doctor and not your friend,” McCoy says with a lazy shrug, like he’s enjoying the situation far too much for his own good.
“It was implied,” Jim mutters darkly, feeling everyone’s gazes on him, and shifting awkwardly.
“What’s it of?” Sulu says, asking what everyone else is thinking.
“Your mom, now get back to work,” Jim snaps. Sulu puts up his hands with a grin and swivels his chair around.
“Go back to sickbay,” Jim snaps at McCoy, feeling worn out as he rests his head in his hands. McCoy drops the cream into his lap and wanders back toward the turbolift. Jim turns and throws the tube of cream across the bridge in his direction, but it misses McCoy by a foot.
…
“I want you to know that I respect you, and have a very high opinion of you, and what I did was inexcusable,” Jim says as he sits in the quiet of his office, Spock sitting opposite him, back straight and alert.
“You did not offend me,” Spock says, his lips quirking. Jim feels his stomach clench at the soft look in his eyes.
“Well, that’s good,” Jim says, sitting back in his chair and shifting so he’s not putting his weight on his right butt cheek.
“May I ask a personal query?”
“Considering I asked you to mount me several times last night, you can ask me anything,” Jim says with a smile.
Spock nods, clearly thinking through how to say what he needs to say. “I do not often pay much attention to idle gossip, but there is a rumour circulating amongst crew that you have Admiral Pike’s face tattooed on your gluteus maximus.”
Jim bursts out laughing, his body trembling as he shakes his head quickly. He gasps for air and lets his body settle down before answering. “No, oh my god, no. I love that man, but no.”
“Very well,” Spock nods, not asking anything further.
Jim looks at him, considering his options, before deciding that out of all the people to tell, Spock is probably his best option considering he tries not to let any emotions slip and he won’t outright laugh at him.
“It’s your name,” Jim mumbles quickly, his eyes not looking at Spock.
Spock sits forward. “I did not understand what you said.”
“My tattoo. It’s your name.”
They plunge into awkward silence, Spock clearly trying to understand what Jim is telling him and Jim wishing he was actually stranded on some ice planet rather than sitting in front of his first officer.
“Why would you have my name on your body?” Spock asks.
Jim runs his hand through his hair. “I was really drunk, OK? I can’t even remember my thought process, but this morning I woke up, and there it was.”
Spock considers him a moment, his eyes flickering down his body for a split second before looking back up and meeting Jim’s nervous gaze.
“May I see?” Spock asks, eyebrow raised expectantly.
Jim freezes, not at all expecting Spock to ask that. In all the variations he imagined telling Spock since that morning; in not one did Spock actually want to see it.
“Err, sure,” Jim mumbles out as he stands and turns around, not wanting Spock to see anything he doesn’t need to see. He quickly unfastens his pants, his fingers trembling slightly as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact he’s about to show his ass to his first officer. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers, and pulls them down so his ass is exposed to Spock’s gaze. Jim hears a hitch of breath from behind him and looks back to see Spock’s eyes dark and intense and completely focused on where he can feel Spock’s name carved into his skin.
“McCoy is working out how to get rid of it. I’ve looked it up and the ink is made up with their own properties which seems to be permanent on human skin.”
Jim’s eyes widen in complete shock as he feels soft fingertips brush around the tender area, clearing trying to get as close to it as possible without actually pressing against the sore area and causing Jim harm.
Then Spock lets out a small hum and Jim is surprised as a shot of arousal shoots through his body in a response to it, like he can’t help it. Jim quickly pulls his pants and boxers back up, causing Spock’s hand to fall away from his ass regretfully.
“Yeah, so that’s that. Don’t tell anyone it’s your name, OK? I am so embarrassed,” Jim mumbles, turning around and rubbing his temples with his fingertips.
“I understand your need for discretion.”
“Great, great,” Jim says, cheering up slightly and feeling a weight off his shoulders now Spock knows. “I better head back.”
Spock nods and Jim turns, looking over his shoulder and catching Spock’s gaze directed to his ass. Jim blushes and snorts, walking out of the room, letting his hips sway slightly playfully.
…
“Sorry I made out with you last night,” Jim says as he bites into his sandwich. McCoy glances over of him.
“Not the first time you’ve kissed me drunk,” McCoy says with a shrug.
“Still, I’m sorry. Was it totally hot though?”
McCoy raises an unamused eyebrow. “It wasn’t.”
“Seriously?” Jim asks, wiping crumbs off his lips.
“It was messy. You could barely work out where my mouth was,” McCoy says, biting into an apple.
“Crap. I bet people think I’m a sucky kisser now.”
“By people, do you mean Spock?” McCoy teases, looking at him innocently.
“Shut up,” Jim snaps playfully.
“Just saying, there must be a reason you wanted the goblin’s name written on your ass for the rest of eternity,” McCoy drawls.
Jim throws a chip at McCoy’s face. “I don’t like that defeatist attitude. It won’t be eternity, it’ll only be until you or Spock works out how to get rid of it.”
McCoy glances up at him, looking surprised. “You told him?”
“Yep. It wasn’t that awkward either. Well, it got awkward when he started staring at my ass, but other than that, he seems kind of unaffected by it.”
“You showed him,” McCoy says, sounding slightly shocked. “You’re an idiot.” McCoy shakes his head in disbelief.
“How am I an idiot?” Jim asks.
McCoy looks over his shoulder and catches Uhura’s attention as she sits at another table, using his hand to wave her over.
“What are you doing?” Jim asks nervously as Uhura slides into a seat next to him with an expectant look on her face.
“Uhura, I have a very hypothetical situation that is in no way related to actual events to ask your opinion on.”
“Go for it,” Uhura asks, crossing her legs under the table and looking at McCoy.
“Vulcan’s mark their mates, correct?”
Uhura frowns. “Sometimes, but it’s not that common anymore, but they did used to.”
“OK, well, what if someone went ahead and marked themselves with a Vulcan’s name?” McCoy asks casually, watching Jim out of the corner of his eye.
Uhura looks at Jim for a second before looking back at McCoy, a confused expression on her face. “Err, that’d be pretty bold, but the Vulcan would probably assume they’re courting them or something. I’m not sure to be honest, but I’m guessing the Vulcan would become a little protective.”
McCoy nods seriously, his fingers playing over the table as he looks at Jim.
“What are you trying to say?” Jim asks with a long sigh.
“I’m saying, Spock is going to assume you’re pretty much his now and will probably try to get into your pants. Not that you’d mind that.”
Uhura puts her hands up, a look of horror crossing her face. “Oh my god, your tattoo is of Spock?”
“No, no, it’s just his name,” Jim says hastily, eyes flicking around nervously to make sure no one overheard.
Uhura snorts, folding her arms across her chest and smirks. “Fantastic. This should be fun. Not for you, but for the rest of us.”
“I hate you both,” Jim says, getting up and trying his hardest to stride out of the mess with his ass still feeling sore.
…
“Jim,” Spock says, seemingly appearing out of no where as he falls into step. “A person who claims they know you from last night’s shore leave is about to beam aboard to return something of yours.”
Jim puts his hand over his heart. “Can you give a guy some warning when you’re about to leap out on him?”
“I apologise,” Spock says, although it doesn’t sound sincere. “I will escort you to the transporter room.”
Jim shoots him an unimpressed look before suddenly feeling a warm hand brush his ass, like it was accident, but he’s pretty sure it was intentional as he sneaks a look at Spock and finds his first officer with an innocent look on his face. Jim moves away, his own cheeks flushing as he walks along the corridor, trying to keep at least a foot between him and Spock. Spock doesn’t realise what’s doing, or is pretending not to, and moves right up next to him as they continue walking, their shoulders brushing.
“What are they returning?” Jim asks warily as they walk together, Spock not moving from his personal space.
“A garment. They did not specify any other details.”
Jim nods as they round a corner and head into the transporter room where a large man with sleeked back black hair and a charming smile on his face stands on the transporter pad, clearly having just arrived. He walks down the steps so he’s level with them and walks up to Jim, his eyes lit up in recognition.
“Nice to see you again,” he says. Jim stares, trying to place him but being unsuccessful.
“I’m sorry, last night is a bit of blank for me,” Jim apologises as the man smiles, holding out his hand. Jim’s cheek flush red immediately as he looks at his black boxers balled in the man’s fist. “Thanks.” Jim grabs the boxers and shifts awkwardly as Spock stands closely next to him, his eyes looking at the underwear with a guarded expression.
“I’m Shelvin, How’s the tat working out for you?” he asks with a smile.
“Wait, you gave me the tattoo?”
“Sure did. You showed your boyfriend?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows and rocking back onto his heels with a pleased glint in his eye.
Jim shakes his head. “I’m sorry, boyfriend?”
“That guy Spock you kept telling me about. The love of your life or whatever. I assumed he was your partner considering you asked for his name on your ass.”
Jim swears his heart stops and he can see Spock in the side of his vision slowly turning his head to look at him, eyes intense and interested. Jim resolutely keeps his gaze fixed forward as he plasters a smile onto his face.
“Err, no, he’s not. This is Spock by the way,” Jim comments. Shelvin’s eyes widen and he looks between them for an awkward beat. “Why did you have my boxers?” Jim quickly says.
“After I finished the tattoo, you put on your pants and left, leaving your boxers on the floor. I’m pleased you remained in orbit.”
“Yeah, well, thanks,” Jim says awkwardly, standing there knowing that Spock is still staring at him, his eyes carefully blank.
“I better head back, but it was nice spending some time with your ass,” he jokes with a loud laugh, which prompts Spock to shift even more closely to Jim.
“I don’t suppose you know whether the ink is removable, do you?” Jim asks, trying to sound casual but it comes out slightly desperate.
“On humans? No way. I told you last night that you wouldn’t get it off, but you told me to do it anyway,” Shelvin says with a lazy shrug. “Nice meeting you. Anytime you’re back on planet and want your ass inked with someone’s name, come to me.”
Before Jim knows it, Shelvin is back on the transporter pad being beamed back, and he lets out a disappointed sigh as he looks down to where his boxers are balled up in his hand.
Jim turns quickly, heading toward the door and not looking back at Spock as he walks out into the corridor. Spock silently falls into step next to him. Jim doesn’t even know where he’s going, but it becomes clear he isn’t going to manage to lose Spock so he goes to his quarters, throwing the boxers across the room with irritation. He turns to see Spock follow him in, his hands clasped behind his back.
Jim turns to Spock with a weary sigh, eyes expectant. “Go on, I know you want to bring up what Shelvin said.”
Spock regards him neutrally before cocking his head. “Do you wish to engage in sexual relations with me?”
Jim’s mouth falls open, eyes bulging slightly. “What now?”
“I understand you marked yourself with my name to get my attention.”
Jim shakes his head, his mouth still hanging open. “Nope. That isn’t what happened.”
Spock puts his hand up, halting Jim’s denial. “You invited me to dominate you last night before admitting your feelings for me and marking your body with my name.”
Jim stares at him, not processing what Spock is saying. “I was drunk, Spock.”
“Just because you were intoxicated does not mean you lied. In fact, research suggests that humans become more truthful after drinking large quantities of alcohol.”
Jim rubs his hands over his face, pulling the skin of his face down slightly. “Look, this isn’t really-”
“Do you want to engage in coitus with me? I am confident I will be able to satisfy you fully.”
Jim swears his mouth dries up a little bit and his heart starts racing faster as he allows himself a split second of real consideration at Spock’s offer.
“Are you seriously offering to have sex with me?” Jim asks, sounding incredulous as he stands there, his eyes still wide.
Spock nods, like he’s confirming a mission report or that he likes plomeek soup, and not that he wants to sex up his captain. Jim walks backwards a few paces and sits on his bed, feeling a little confused.
“You appear shocked. Considering you offered to let me dominate you last night, I find it baffling you have suddenly changed your mind. It is also rude to entice a Vulcan in such a manner and even go so far as to mark yourself with my name, and turn me down.”
“OK, I need like a second to work out what is happening right now,” Jim groans, burying his head in his hands and hearing Spock’s feet pad against the floor as he walks over. Jim feels a strong hand land on his shoulder and rub reassuringly, like it’s a completely normal action for Spock, who never touches anyone.
“Jim. Perhaps a mind meld would be beneficial to show you part of what happened last night.”
“You can do that?” Jim asks, pulling his head out of his hands and staring up at Spock through his eyelashes.
“Yes,” Spock says softly, moving his hand from Jims shoulder, up along his neck and to his face, and letting his fingers splay into the meld points.
“Your accent does things to me, Bones. Real things. Things that include my penis,” Jim slurs, practically using McCoy as a leaning post as he messily shoves his tongue out and starts kissing McCoy’s cheek before moving his mouth over and sealing it to McCoy’s, his tongue swirling around, uncoordinated, in McCoy’s mouth before pulling away, his eyes glazed over.
McCoy screws up his face and wipes his own mouth with the back of his hand. Jim pushes his mouth against his again, his tongue licking at McCoy’s lips before McCoy wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him away, Jim’s eyes still shut and his tongue out.
Jim opens his eyes and gives McCoy a droopy smile. He twirls around on the spot, his eyes looking for someone. He lights up and stumbles over toward Uhura, his hands gripping hold of anything, including people, to keep him from swaying.
“Huhu,” Jim says loudly. “Hura or whatever.”
Uhura stares at him like she wants me to die and Jim sinks back slightly.
“I need a bit of information,” Jim says loudly, oblivious to the fact half his crew are in hearing distance and watching him with amusement, like it’s a show. “How big is Spock’s penis?”
Uhura takes a long, slow sip of her drink as several snorts come from varying crew members. “Why?”
“Well, in your professional opinion, will I be able to take it? I mean, would I be walking funny for a week?”
“Perhaps you should return to the ship,” Uhura suggests, giving Jim an almost endearing look as Jim suddenly looks around hopefully, his eyes wide and expectant.
“I want Spock,” Jim suddenly shouts like a small child. “I want him now,” he whines.
“He’s right here,” Uhura snaps, putting her hand on Spock’s elbow and moving him into Jim’s eye line from where he had been stood just behind her.
Jim beams, as a bright, wide smile crosses his face and he bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, feeling excited. “Hey.”
“Captain,” Spock acknowledges, taking in Jim’s glazed over eyes and flush to his skin with disapproval.
“Spock,” Jim slurs, winding his arms around Spock’s neck and leaning in close, causing Spock to tense up. “Let’s just skip the pleasantries, OK? I want you to just bend me over something and go to town. I want you to completely dominate me like some wild, crazy animal. Just do it, I’ll turn around and we can go at it right now,” Jim rambles, pushing himself up against Spock’s body desperately. “I know you Vulcans are secretly kinky, and trust me, I would let you do anything to me. Anything you want.” Spock stares down at him, his gaze completely guarded.
Then Jim suddenly feels McCoy wrap his arms around him from behind, pulling him away from Spock and practically dragging him across the bar floor.
“No, lemme go, I want Spock to dominate me,” Jim shouts, making grabby hands out in front of him toward his first officer, who is watching him go blankly.
“The only thing he might do is punch you in the face if you carry on like that,” McCoy says gruffly, finally releasing him and causing Jim to stumble for a moment before McCoy steadies him.
Jim opens his eyes and feels his cheeks heat up. “That was… not good. I’m so sorry,” Jim says earnestly, looking up at Spock before flicking his eyes down to eye level and noticing an obvious bulge in Spock’s pants at the memory. Jim has no idea where to look or what to say to make this situation less uncomfortable as he feels arousal shoot through his own body, like a memory, and it makes him think of the emotional transference and that Spock must have felt arousal at the memory that’s now reverberating through him.
“So,” Jim starts with a loud cough, standing up and finding himself right in Spock’s personal space as Spock refuses to move. “I should go find Uhura. I haven’t apologised yet.”
“She can wait,” Spock says, his voice forceful and determined, and he places both his hands on Jim’s shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed with force.
Jim lets out a small squeak as he finds himself on his back, Spock looming over him with an inscrutable expression on his face. Then Spock is on him, his body pressing Jim’s down against the bed as he leans down to press a kiss to Jim’s mouth, like he’s hesitant and a little shy. The simple gesture causes Jim’s whole body to shudder as all his blood heads south and he allows himself to feel all the desire and sexual frustration related to his first officer come out.
Spock pulls back; his eyes full of intent and purpose as he reaches for the fastening on Jim’s pants hastily and undoes them quickly, his fingers moving the zip down. Jim just stares down in slight shock as Spock moves off him so he can pull Jim’s pants off in one swift movement.
Jim grabs at his own gold shirt and pulls it over his head, followed by the undershirt, and feels slightly on edge being almost naked when Spock is still standing at the foot of the bed, completely dressed as he stares down at Jim’s body hungrily. Spock leans down and gently pushes Jim over and onto his stomach, hooking his fingers into Jim’s boxers and pulling them off impatiently. Jim hears Spock’s breathing become slightly louder and then suddenly a hand is cupping his right ass cheek, and a thumb is sliding over the still sensitive skin of his tattoo.
“Is it still sore?” Spock asks, his voice soft and almost in awe.
Jim feels his dick harden at the tone of voice, and he nods. “Only a little.”
Jim’s eyes widen as he feels a wet tongue slide over it, followed by a hard bite just to the left of where the tattoo is, which causes Jim to gasp and push the top half of his body up so he can look over his shoulder and down at Spock. Spock continues to lick and touch the tattoo, like it’s the most fascinating and wonderful thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. Jim stays silent, his breathing becoming less steady as he rubs himself against the mattress and allows Spock to keep exploring his ass.
Then he feels his ass being grabbed and rubbed firmly, before the hands slide up and around his body, pulling him up he’s on all fours.
“That’s more like it,” Jim says breathlessly, feeling Spock give his left ass cheek a firm slap. “Oh, fuck.”
Spock fumbles around, and Jim can hear a zip being undone and then what sounds like a bottle being uncapped. Jim tenses as Spock’s hand slides over the tattoo again, this time a little firmer, and Jim feels a spike of pain, but he immediately forgets about it when Spock licks a long, wet stripe over his hole. Jim shudders and looks behind him to where Spock is still fully dressed apart from his underwear and pants pushed down to his upper thighs, his cock flushed and hard as it sticks out from his body. Jim wiggles his ass pointedly, spreading his legs a little and letting out a small moan when he sees Spock crouch behind him; his feet flat on the bed, as his hands go to Jim’s hips and hold him steady as he pushes inside slowly and gently.
“Yeah,” Jim gasps out, his eyes shutting in bliss as one of Spock’s hands slide around his body and push Jim’s penis against his stomach as he starts to move.
It’s fast and hard and exactly how Jim had always imagined it would be when he would be alone late at night and let his thoughts drift to his overly stern first officer. He would never admit to anyone, ever, but Spock was his main jerk off material, and he’d been fairly sure his crush had been kept under wraps until he got drunk and made it very obvious that he wanted Spock.
Spock continues to move fast, one of his hands on Jim’s hip and the other squeezing and grabbing his ass, eyes focused on the tattoo.
Before Jim knows it, he feels on the precipice of his orgasm, and Spock senses it almost immediately, his thrusts becoming immediately faster and his hands reaching around to quickly tug at Jim’s penis a few times. That’s it all it takes and Jim is sure he yells as he orgasms, his come striping the mattress underneath him.
Spock is right behind him, his hand landing on Jim’s ass with a loud smack as he grunts through his climax. Spock pulls out almost immediately and rolls to the side, his pants still at his upper thighs.
Jim looks to the side and smiles, his eyelids drooping with bliss as he reaches out to touch Spock’s flushed face with his fingertips. He’s almost fascinated by it as he allows his finger to trace one of Spock’s eyebrows before running around his ear to the tip.
“I have a crush on you,” Jim says plainly. It feels stupid after what they’ve just done but he needs Spock to know that he’s not just some guy who will get laid whenever the opportunity arises.
Spock leans over and presses a kiss to Jim’s lips, his eyes warm and understanding. “I know.”
“That was so amazing,” Jim mumbles quietly, kissing Spock again. “We’re going to do that again. And again. Starfleet doesn’t need us that badly.”
Spock lets out a contented hum, like he fully agrees with Jim’s statement.
“Also, you staying in your clothes was kind of hot,” Jim says with a smirk, running his hand down the blue science officer shirt, and playing with the hem.
“I had not planned on remaining in clothing, but the situation made me impatient,” Spock admits softly, kissing Jim again before rolling right up against him and sliding his hand down Jim’s back and resting it over Jim’s tattoo possessively.
“Just for the record, I’m still going to try and get rid of the tattoo if I can, Spock.” Spock’s hand tightens its grip against Jim’s ass immediately, giving it a firm squeeze.
“No.”
Jim smiles. “I know you like it, but I cannot have someone’s name stamped on my ass, that’s not me, and it’s unprofessional.”
“I will ask you to reconsider. For Vulcans, it is extremely enticing having their name on their mate, marking them. I hope you do not erase it from your body.”
“We’ll see,” Jim says, still planning on getting rid of it if he possibly can.
Five years later and he still had the tattoo. And Spock.
END
Universe: XI
Rating: NC-17
Relationship status: first time
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (hints of Jim/others)
Word count: 6024
Genre: humor
Trope: intoxication, shore leave
Warning: Language, graphic sex, rimming, tattooing.
A/N: Just a fun fic I wrote. :) Enjoy.
Summary: On shore leave Jim gets very drunk and makes a number of mistakes, one of them being a tattoo of Spock’s name on his ass. Spock doesn’t exactly mind.
Ink Stains
Jim wakes up on his stomach with a sheet over his head. He pushes the sheet down slowly, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights of his room that he failed to order down before passing out. He sits up, his throat dry and rough as he stumbles out of bed and toward the replicator, quickly grabbing a cup of water and downing it in one go.
He chuckles to himself at his own stupidity before immediately cringing as his stomach turns over in warning. He only remembers vague bits of the night before, but considering he’s woken up naked and alone, it won’t rank in his top ten. He stumbles toward the bathroom he shares with Spock and opens the door, moving into the bathroom quickly and splashing water on his face.
He turns around, his ass settling against the edge of the sink when he suddenly hisses; moving away and trying to look over his shoulder to see what caused the pain. It’s not a good pain, like when he’s sore from sex with a guy, but more of a biting pain. He turns his ass toward the mirror and looks over his shoulder to the reflection, and his hearts stops as his eyes widen.
On his right ass cheek is tattooed ‘Spock’ in flowing, elegant script. It’s only a few inches across but it’s enough to make him want to vomit at the same time as laughing his ass off. He reaches back to run a finger over the black script inked into his ass cheek and hisses again, pulling his hand away.
He goes back into the bedroom and pulls on some pants and a top before opening the door of his quarters and peering out into the empty corridor.
Jim creeps toward sickbay like he’s a ninja, keeping his back to the walls like people will be able to see through his pants to the tattoo on his ass if he turns his back to them. Thankfully, he only passes a few people, who give him smirks that make him wonder if they can in fact see through his pants, before he walks into sickbay, finding McCoy immediately and walking over to him.
“Morning Jim,” McCoy says brightly.
“The lights in here always this bright?” Jim asks, his arm going across his eyes.
“Sure are,” McCoy says, like he’s getting a delighted pleasure in Jim’s pain.
“I need to talk to you alone,” Jim mutters quietly, even though there’s no one in hearing distance.
McCoy gets up, a small smile still causing an unsettled feeling in Jim’s stomach as he swaggers over to his office, Jim following with his shoulders slumped and eyes heavy lidded.
“I did something stupid last night,” Jim says the second McCoy shuts the door.
“I’ll say,” McCoy says, rolling his eyes.
Jim frowns. “You were with me?”
“At what point? When you kissed Sulu or when you told Spock you would love it if he would just dominate your ass and skip the pleasantries?”
Jim stares at him, his mouth falling open and an embarrassed flush crosses his face. “Really? I did that?”
McCoy nods slowly, his eyes narrowing. “What were you talking about?”
“Promise you won’t laugh,” Jim says, his hands sliding around to cup his own ass tenderly.
“Jim, I’ve seen you get your head stuck in an air ventilator when you were trying to reach a chocolate bar. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Jim turns slowly so his back is to McCoy, his fingers unbuttoning his pants slowly and lowering them. He takes a long intake of breath, looking skyward as he waits for a reaction… any reaction. After a minute, Jim turns to see McCoy, sitting on a chair, eyes comically wide and a hand over his mouth as his body shakes from silent laughter.
“Can you get rid of it?” Jim asks quickly. McCoy’s eyes flicker to his, and Jim can tell he’s doing his best not to take a picture and make it accessible ship wide.
“This isn’t normal ink, Jim. They used the real stuff on Franna IV. This can’t be taken out of skin.” Jim swears he hears a sliver of glee in McCoy’s tone as he tries to tell him seriously.
“No, unacceptable,” Jim says, turning around, eyes wide in panic. “You’re my doctor, get rid of it.”
“Put your penis away,” McCoy grumbles as Jim hastily pulls up his pants and buttons them. “Look, I’ll look and see what I can come up with, but that ink is pretty permanent.”
“I cannot have Spock’s name written on my ass for the rest of my life. When guys try to… you know, get it on with me, they’ll see his name and ask questions. I don’t want to be asked questions when I’m about to have sex, it’s inconvenient,” Jim says, his voice raised and bordering on hysterical.
McCoy looks at him, his eyes shining with amusement as he attempts to remain professional.
“I’ll see what I can do,” McCoy says, his voice almost breaking with laughter as he tries to school his features.
“I hate you,” Jim says, trying his best to storm out of the office, even as he limps slightly when the fabric of his pants rubs painfully against his tattoo.
…
“Hey,” Jim says softly, his eyes bright as he catches Sulu on the way to the bridge. “I think I owe you an apology, for last night.”
Sulu looks at him with a mixture of wariness and amusement. “S’alright. Not the first time I’ve had a guy stick his tongue down my throat.”
“OK, well, good. It was unprofessional so sorry,” Jim says nervously.
Sulu smacks him on the side in a friendly gesture. “Forget about it.”
“Thanks,” Jim says as they walk into the turbolift.
“So, you doing the rounds then? Probably would have been easier to just send out a ship wide transmission,” Sulu says with a light smirk as he rests against the side of the lift.
Jim screws up his face in confusion. “I need to apologise to Spock…but, err, who else?”
Sulu’s smirk becomes darker. “Well, I wasn’t the only guy you kissed.”
“You serious?” Jim says, his voice higher as his eyes widen.
“Well, you grabbed Chekov’s ass and told him that if he were legal, you’d let him do you. Then you went and told McCoy that his accent is so hot it makes you horny, and you then proceeded to kiss him, a lot. Oh, and you announced to the bar that you have a really large penis.”
Jim slides down the turbolift wall until he’s crouched down, his head bowed with shame. “Bones didn’t mention that. Anything else?”
“You want all of it? Well, you started quizzing Uhura on the size of Spock’s penis and whether, in her professional opinion, you could take him, and then you told Spock you want him to dominate you in an animal Vulcan way or something. You slow danced with Scotty, and you also told Chapel that she has amazing hair and then petted her. It was hysterically funny.”
“Sounds it,” Jim says dryly, his legs becoming outstretched in front of him and his ass painful against the turbolift floor. The doors open and Sulu starts to walk out before realising Jim isn’t making an effort to move.
“You not coming? You’re captain and everything, so it’d be kind of inconvenient if you didn’t come.”
“Leave me here to die in peace,” Jim whines, his chin pressed to his chest.
Sulu lets out a long sigh before pressing a button to keep the lift doors open and taking in a breath. “Spock, your captain won’t come out of the lift,” Sulu yells across the bridge, causing the bridge crew all to the swivel their chairs in the turbolift’s direction.
Spock suddenly appears, his eyes slightly concerned. “Is he well?”
“Other than a bruised ego, I think so,” Sulu nods, his arms folded over his chest and a completely unsympathetic look on his face.
Jim looks between them as Spock stares down at him expectantly, and sighs.
“Fine, I’m coming,” Jim mumbles, pushing himself up and stalking onto the silent bridge, everyone’s eyes on him. Jim clears his throat loudly, trying to relax his posture as he rounds his chair and stands in front of it. “I’d like to, err, apologise for my behaviour last night. If I groped you, or kissed you, or said something inappropriate, then please accept my deepest apologies. Now, maybe we can just forget about it and return to work.”
A lot of amused gazes are exchanged before people move back to their stations.
Jim lets out a relieved sigh, shooting Chekov a sorry look, before sitting down in his chair and releasing a loud hiss. He quickly adjusts his seating position so he isn’t putting all his weight on his right ass cheek.
The noise attracts everyone’s attention and then all turn, as one, to stare at him. Spock cocks his head to the side, glancing down Jim’s body in consideration and minor confusion.
“Mind your own business,” Jim snaps sharply, causing everyone to quickly avert their eyes and get back to work.
Shift goes by tediously slowly, with Jim receiving a lot of glances in his direction that make him constantly on edge and slightly embarrassed. Things get worse when halfway through his shift; McCoy wanders onto the bridge, a mischievous glint in his eye. Jim knows that look and is immediately on alert.
“What brings you here?” Jim asks casually.
“Just wondered if your ass tattoo was causing you some discomfort? Brought you some cream.” McCoy holds up a small white tube.
Jim looks up at him, his eyes resolutely not straying to where everybody is staring at him, looks of shock and delight covering their faces.
“I told you that in confidence,” Jim says quietly through gritted teeth.
“You never said I was acting as your doctor and not your friend,” McCoy says with a lazy shrug, like he’s enjoying the situation far too much for his own good.
“It was implied,” Jim mutters darkly, feeling everyone’s gazes on him, and shifting awkwardly.
“What’s it of?” Sulu says, asking what everyone else is thinking.
“Your mom, now get back to work,” Jim snaps. Sulu puts up his hands with a grin and swivels his chair around.
“Go back to sickbay,” Jim snaps at McCoy, feeling worn out as he rests his head in his hands. McCoy drops the cream into his lap and wanders back toward the turbolift. Jim turns and throws the tube of cream across the bridge in his direction, but it misses McCoy by a foot.
…
“I want you to know that I respect you, and have a very high opinion of you, and what I did was inexcusable,” Jim says as he sits in the quiet of his office, Spock sitting opposite him, back straight and alert.
“You did not offend me,” Spock says, his lips quirking. Jim feels his stomach clench at the soft look in his eyes.
“Well, that’s good,” Jim says, sitting back in his chair and shifting so he’s not putting his weight on his right butt cheek.
“May I ask a personal query?”
“Considering I asked you to mount me several times last night, you can ask me anything,” Jim says with a smile.
Spock nods, clearly thinking through how to say what he needs to say. “I do not often pay much attention to idle gossip, but there is a rumour circulating amongst crew that you have Admiral Pike’s face tattooed on your gluteus maximus.”
Jim bursts out laughing, his body trembling as he shakes his head quickly. He gasps for air and lets his body settle down before answering. “No, oh my god, no. I love that man, but no.”
“Very well,” Spock nods, not asking anything further.
Jim looks at him, considering his options, before deciding that out of all the people to tell, Spock is probably his best option considering he tries not to let any emotions slip and he won’t outright laugh at him.
“It’s your name,” Jim mumbles quickly, his eyes not looking at Spock.
Spock sits forward. “I did not understand what you said.”
“My tattoo. It’s your name.”
They plunge into awkward silence, Spock clearly trying to understand what Jim is telling him and Jim wishing he was actually stranded on some ice planet rather than sitting in front of his first officer.
“Why would you have my name on your body?” Spock asks.
Jim runs his hand through his hair. “I was really drunk, OK? I can’t even remember my thought process, but this morning I woke up, and there it was.”
Spock considers him a moment, his eyes flickering down his body for a split second before looking back up and meeting Jim’s nervous gaze.
“May I see?” Spock asks, eyebrow raised expectantly.
Jim freezes, not at all expecting Spock to ask that. In all the variations he imagined telling Spock since that morning; in not one did Spock actually want to see it.
“Err, sure,” Jim mumbles out as he stands and turns around, not wanting Spock to see anything he doesn’t need to see. He quickly unfastens his pants, his fingers trembling slightly as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact he’s about to show his ass to his first officer. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers, and pulls them down so his ass is exposed to Spock’s gaze. Jim hears a hitch of breath from behind him and looks back to see Spock’s eyes dark and intense and completely focused on where he can feel Spock’s name carved into his skin.
“McCoy is working out how to get rid of it. I’ve looked it up and the ink is made up with their own properties which seems to be permanent on human skin.”
Jim’s eyes widen in complete shock as he feels soft fingertips brush around the tender area, clearing trying to get as close to it as possible without actually pressing against the sore area and causing Jim harm.
Then Spock lets out a small hum and Jim is surprised as a shot of arousal shoots through his body in a response to it, like he can’t help it. Jim quickly pulls his pants and boxers back up, causing Spock’s hand to fall away from his ass regretfully.
“Yeah, so that’s that. Don’t tell anyone it’s your name, OK? I am so embarrassed,” Jim mumbles, turning around and rubbing his temples with his fingertips.
“I understand your need for discretion.”
“Great, great,” Jim says, cheering up slightly and feeling a weight off his shoulders now Spock knows. “I better head back.”
Spock nods and Jim turns, looking over his shoulder and catching Spock’s gaze directed to his ass. Jim blushes and snorts, walking out of the room, letting his hips sway slightly playfully.
…
“Sorry I made out with you last night,” Jim says as he bites into his sandwich. McCoy glances over of him.
“Not the first time you’ve kissed me drunk,” McCoy says with a shrug.
“Still, I’m sorry. Was it totally hot though?”
McCoy raises an unamused eyebrow. “It wasn’t.”
“Seriously?” Jim asks, wiping crumbs off his lips.
“It was messy. You could barely work out where my mouth was,” McCoy says, biting into an apple.
“Crap. I bet people think I’m a sucky kisser now.”
“By people, do you mean Spock?” McCoy teases, looking at him innocently.
“Shut up,” Jim snaps playfully.
“Just saying, there must be a reason you wanted the goblin’s name written on your ass for the rest of eternity,” McCoy drawls.
Jim throws a chip at McCoy’s face. “I don’t like that defeatist attitude. It won’t be eternity, it’ll only be until you or Spock works out how to get rid of it.”
McCoy glances up at him, looking surprised. “You told him?”
“Yep. It wasn’t that awkward either. Well, it got awkward when he started staring at my ass, but other than that, he seems kind of unaffected by it.”
“You showed him,” McCoy says, sounding slightly shocked. “You’re an idiot.” McCoy shakes his head in disbelief.
“How am I an idiot?” Jim asks.
McCoy looks over his shoulder and catches Uhura’s attention as she sits at another table, using his hand to wave her over.
“What are you doing?” Jim asks nervously as Uhura slides into a seat next to him with an expectant look on her face.
“Uhura, I have a very hypothetical situation that is in no way related to actual events to ask your opinion on.”
“Go for it,” Uhura asks, crossing her legs under the table and looking at McCoy.
“Vulcan’s mark their mates, correct?”
Uhura frowns. “Sometimes, but it’s not that common anymore, but they did used to.”
“OK, well, what if someone went ahead and marked themselves with a Vulcan’s name?” McCoy asks casually, watching Jim out of the corner of his eye.
Uhura looks at Jim for a second before looking back at McCoy, a confused expression on her face. “Err, that’d be pretty bold, but the Vulcan would probably assume they’re courting them or something. I’m not sure to be honest, but I’m guessing the Vulcan would become a little protective.”
McCoy nods seriously, his fingers playing over the table as he looks at Jim.
“What are you trying to say?” Jim asks with a long sigh.
“I’m saying, Spock is going to assume you’re pretty much his now and will probably try to get into your pants. Not that you’d mind that.”
Uhura puts her hands up, a look of horror crossing her face. “Oh my god, your tattoo is of Spock?”
“No, no, it’s just his name,” Jim says hastily, eyes flicking around nervously to make sure no one overheard.
Uhura snorts, folding her arms across her chest and smirks. “Fantastic. This should be fun. Not for you, but for the rest of us.”
“I hate you both,” Jim says, getting up and trying his hardest to stride out of the mess with his ass still feeling sore.
…
“Jim,” Spock says, seemingly appearing out of no where as he falls into step. “A person who claims they know you from last night’s shore leave is about to beam aboard to return something of yours.”
Jim puts his hand over his heart. “Can you give a guy some warning when you’re about to leap out on him?”
“I apologise,” Spock says, although it doesn’t sound sincere. “I will escort you to the transporter room.”
Jim shoots him an unimpressed look before suddenly feeling a warm hand brush his ass, like it was accident, but he’s pretty sure it was intentional as he sneaks a look at Spock and finds his first officer with an innocent look on his face. Jim moves away, his own cheeks flushing as he walks along the corridor, trying to keep at least a foot between him and Spock. Spock doesn’t realise what’s doing, or is pretending not to, and moves right up next to him as they continue walking, their shoulders brushing.
“What are they returning?” Jim asks warily as they walk together, Spock not moving from his personal space.
“A garment. They did not specify any other details.”
Jim nods as they round a corner and head into the transporter room where a large man with sleeked back black hair and a charming smile on his face stands on the transporter pad, clearly having just arrived. He walks down the steps so he’s level with them and walks up to Jim, his eyes lit up in recognition.
“Nice to see you again,” he says. Jim stares, trying to place him but being unsuccessful.
“I’m sorry, last night is a bit of blank for me,” Jim apologises as the man smiles, holding out his hand. Jim’s cheek flush red immediately as he looks at his black boxers balled in the man’s fist. “Thanks.” Jim grabs the boxers and shifts awkwardly as Spock stands closely next to him, his eyes looking at the underwear with a guarded expression.
“I’m Shelvin, How’s the tat working out for you?” he asks with a smile.
“Wait, you gave me the tattoo?”
“Sure did. You showed your boyfriend?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows and rocking back onto his heels with a pleased glint in his eye.
Jim shakes his head. “I’m sorry, boyfriend?”
“That guy Spock you kept telling me about. The love of your life or whatever. I assumed he was your partner considering you asked for his name on your ass.”
Jim swears his heart stops and he can see Spock in the side of his vision slowly turning his head to look at him, eyes intense and interested. Jim resolutely keeps his gaze fixed forward as he plasters a smile onto his face.
“Err, no, he’s not. This is Spock by the way,” Jim comments. Shelvin’s eyes widen and he looks between them for an awkward beat. “Why did you have my boxers?” Jim quickly says.
“After I finished the tattoo, you put on your pants and left, leaving your boxers on the floor. I’m pleased you remained in orbit.”
“Yeah, well, thanks,” Jim says awkwardly, standing there knowing that Spock is still staring at him, his eyes carefully blank.
“I better head back, but it was nice spending some time with your ass,” he jokes with a loud laugh, which prompts Spock to shift even more closely to Jim.
“I don’t suppose you know whether the ink is removable, do you?” Jim asks, trying to sound casual but it comes out slightly desperate.
“On humans? No way. I told you last night that you wouldn’t get it off, but you told me to do it anyway,” Shelvin says with a lazy shrug. “Nice meeting you. Anytime you’re back on planet and want your ass inked with someone’s name, come to me.”
Before Jim knows it, Shelvin is back on the transporter pad being beamed back, and he lets out a disappointed sigh as he looks down to where his boxers are balled up in his hand.
Jim turns quickly, heading toward the door and not looking back at Spock as he walks out into the corridor. Spock silently falls into step next to him. Jim doesn’t even know where he’s going, but it becomes clear he isn’t going to manage to lose Spock so he goes to his quarters, throwing the boxers across the room with irritation. He turns to see Spock follow him in, his hands clasped behind his back.
Jim turns to Spock with a weary sigh, eyes expectant. “Go on, I know you want to bring up what Shelvin said.”
Spock regards him neutrally before cocking his head. “Do you wish to engage in sexual relations with me?”
Jim’s mouth falls open, eyes bulging slightly. “What now?”
“I understand you marked yourself with my name to get my attention.”
Jim shakes his head, his mouth still hanging open. “Nope. That isn’t what happened.”
Spock puts his hand up, halting Jim’s denial. “You invited me to dominate you last night before admitting your feelings for me and marking your body with my name.”
Jim stares at him, not processing what Spock is saying. “I was drunk, Spock.”
“Just because you were intoxicated does not mean you lied. In fact, research suggests that humans become more truthful after drinking large quantities of alcohol.”
Jim rubs his hands over his face, pulling the skin of his face down slightly. “Look, this isn’t really-”
“Do you want to engage in coitus with me? I am confident I will be able to satisfy you fully.”
Jim swears his mouth dries up a little bit and his heart starts racing faster as he allows himself a split second of real consideration at Spock’s offer.
“Are you seriously offering to have sex with me?” Jim asks, sounding incredulous as he stands there, his eyes still wide.
Spock nods, like he’s confirming a mission report or that he likes plomeek soup, and not that he wants to sex up his captain. Jim walks backwards a few paces and sits on his bed, feeling a little confused.
“You appear shocked. Considering you offered to let me dominate you last night, I find it baffling you have suddenly changed your mind. It is also rude to entice a Vulcan in such a manner and even go so far as to mark yourself with my name, and turn me down.”
“OK, I need like a second to work out what is happening right now,” Jim groans, burying his head in his hands and hearing Spock’s feet pad against the floor as he walks over. Jim feels a strong hand land on his shoulder and rub reassuringly, like it’s a completely normal action for Spock, who never touches anyone.
“Jim. Perhaps a mind meld would be beneficial to show you part of what happened last night.”
“You can do that?” Jim asks, pulling his head out of his hands and staring up at Spock through his eyelashes.
“Yes,” Spock says softly, moving his hand from Jims shoulder, up along his neck and to his face, and letting his fingers splay into the meld points.
“Your accent does things to me, Bones. Real things. Things that include my penis,” Jim slurs, practically using McCoy as a leaning post as he messily shoves his tongue out and starts kissing McCoy’s cheek before moving his mouth over and sealing it to McCoy’s, his tongue swirling around, uncoordinated, in McCoy’s mouth before pulling away, his eyes glazed over.
McCoy screws up his face and wipes his own mouth with the back of his hand. Jim pushes his mouth against his again, his tongue licking at McCoy’s lips before McCoy wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him away, Jim’s eyes still shut and his tongue out.
Jim opens his eyes and gives McCoy a droopy smile. He twirls around on the spot, his eyes looking for someone. He lights up and stumbles over toward Uhura, his hands gripping hold of anything, including people, to keep him from swaying.
“Huhu,” Jim says loudly. “Hura or whatever.”
Uhura stares at him like she wants me to die and Jim sinks back slightly.
“I need a bit of information,” Jim says loudly, oblivious to the fact half his crew are in hearing distance and watching him with amusement, like it’s a show. “How big is Spock’s penis?”
Uhura takes a long, slow sip of her drink as several snorts come from varying crew members. “Why?”
“Well, in your professional opinion, will I be able to take it? I mean, would I be walking funny for a week?”
“Perhaps you should return to the ship,” Uhura suggests, giving Jim an almost endearing look as Jim suddenly looks around hopefully, his eyes wide and expectant.
“I want Spock,” Jim suddenly shouts like a small child. “I want him now,” he whines.
“He’s right here,” Uhura snaps, putting her hand on Spock’s elbow and moving him into Jim’s eye line from where he had been stood just behind her.
Jim beams, as a bright, wide smile crosses his face and he bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, feeling excited. “Hey.”
“Captain,” Spock acknowledges, taking in Jim’s glazed over eyes and flush to his skin with disapproval.
“Spock,” Jim slurs, winding his arms around Spock’s neck and leaning in close, causing Spock to tense up. “Let’s just skip the pleasantries, OK? I want you to just bend me over something and go to town. I want you to completely dominate me like some wild, crazy animal. Just do it, I’ll turn around and we can go at it right now,” Jim rambles, pushing himself up against Spock’s body desperately. “I know you Vulcans are secretly kinky, and trust me, I would let you do anything to me. Anything you want.” Spock stares down at him, his gaze completely guarded.
Then Jim suddenly feels McCoy wrap his arms around him from behind, pulling him away from Spock and practically dragging him across the bar floor.
“No, lemme go, I want Spock to dominate me,” Jim shouts, making grabby hands out in front of him toward his first officer, who is watching him go blankly.
“The only thing he might do is punch you in the face if you carry on like that,” McCoy says gruffly, finally releasing him and causing Jim to stumble for a moment before McCoy steadies him.
Jim opens his eyes and feels his cheeks heat up. “That was… not good. I’m so sorry,” Jim says earnestly, looking up at Spock before flicking his eyes down to eye level and noticing an obvious bulge in Spock’s pants at the memory. Jim has no idea where to look or what to say to make this situation less uncomfortable as he feels arousal shoot through his own body, like a memory, and it makes him think of the emotional transference and that Spock must have felt arousal at the memory that’s now reverberating through him.
“So,” Jim starts with a loud cough, standing up and finding himself right in Spock’s personal space as Spock refuses to move. “I should go find Uhura. I haven’t apologised yet.”
“She can wait,” Spock says, his voice forceful and determined, and he places both his hands on Jim’s shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed with force.
Jim lets out a small squeak as he finds himself on his back, Spock looming over him with an inscrutable expression on his face. Then Spock is on him, his body pressing Jim’s down against the bed as he leans down to press a kiss to Jim’s mouth, like he’s hesitant and a little shy. The simple gesture causes Jim’s whole body to shudder as all his blood heads south and he allows himself to feel all the desire and sexual frustration related to his first officer come out.
Spock pulls back; his eyes full of intent and purpose as he reaches for the fastening on Jim’s pants hastily and undoes them quickly, his fingers moving the zip down. Jim just stares down in slight shock as Spock moves off him so he can pull Jim’s pants off in one swift movement.
Jim grabs at his own gold shirt and pulls it over his head, followed by the undershirt, and feels slightly on edge being almost naked when Spock is still standing at the foot of the bed, completely dressed as he stares down at Jim’s body hungrily. Spock leans down and gently pushes Jim over and onto his stomach, hooking his fingers into Jim’s boxers and pulling them off impatiently. Jim hears Spock’s breathing become slightly louder and then suddenly a hand is cupping his right ass cheek, and a thumb is sliding over the still sensitive skin of his tattoo.
“Is it still sore?” Spock asks, his voice soft and almost in awe.
Jim feels his dick harden at the tone of voice, and he nods. “Only a little.”
Jim’s eyes widen as he feels a wet tongue slide over it, followed by a hard bite just to the left of where the tattoo is, which causes Jim to gasp and push the top half of his body up so he can look over his shoulder and down at Spock. Spock continues to lick and touch the tattoo, like it’s the most fascinating and wonderful thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. Jim stays silent, his breathing becoming less steady as he rubs himself against the mattress and allows Spock to keep exploring his ass.
Then he feels his ass being grabbed and rubbed firmly, before the hands slide up and around his body, pulling him up he’s on all fours.
“That’s more like it,” Jim says breathlessly, feeling Spock give his left ass cheek a firm slap. “Oh, fuck.”
Spock fumbles around, and Jim can hear a zip being undone and then what sounds like a bottle being uncapped. Jim tenses as Spock’s hand slides over the tattoo again, this time a little firmer, and Jim feels a spike of pain, but he immediately forgets about it when Spock licks a long, wet stripe over his hole. Jim shudders and looks behind him to where Spock is still fully dressed apart from his underwear and pants pushed down to his upper thighs, his cock flushed and hard as it sticks out from his body. Jim wiggles his ass pointedly, spreading his legs a little and letting out a small moan when he sees Spock crouch behind him; his feet flat on the bed, as his hands go to Jim’s hips and hold him steady as he pushes inside slowly and gently.
“Yeah,” Jim gasps out, his eyes shutting in bliss as one of Spock’s hands slide around his body and push Jim’s penis against his stomach as he starts to move.
It’s fast and hard and exactly how Jim had always imagined it would be when he would be alone late at night and let his thoughts drift to his overly stern first officer. He would never admit to anyone, ever, but Spock was his main jerk off material, and he’d been fairly sure his crush had been kept under wraps until he got drunk and made it very obvious that he wanted Spock.
Spock continues to move fast, one of his hands on Jim’s hip and the other squeezing and grabbing his ass, eyes focused on the tattoo.
Before Jim knows it, he feels on the precipice of his orgasm, and Spock senses it almost immediately, his thrusts becoming immediately faster and his hands reaching around to quickly tug at Jim’s penis a few times. That’s it all it takes and Jim is sure he yells as he orgasms, his come striping the mattress underneath him.
Spock is right behind him, his hand landing on Jim’s ass with a loud smack as he grunts through his climax. Spock pulls out almost immediately and rolls to the side, his pants still at his upper thighs.
Jim looks to the side and smiles, his eyelids drooping with bliss as he reaches out to touch Spock’s flushed face with his fingertips. He’s almost fascinated by it as he allows his finger to trace one of Spock’s eyebrows before running around his ear to the tip.
“I have a crush on you,” Jim says plainly. It feels stupid after what they’ve just done but he needs Spock to know that he’s not just some guy who will get laid whenever the opportunity arises.
Spock leans over and presses a kiss to Jim’s lips, his eyes warm and understanding. “I know.”
“That was so amazing,” Jim mumbles quietly, kissing Spock again. “We’re going to do that again. And again. Starfleet doesn’t need us that badly.”
Spock lets out a contented hum, like he fully agrees with Jim’s statement.
“Also, you staying in your clothes was kind of hot,” Jim says with a smirk, running his hand down the blue science officer shirt, and playing with the hem.
“I had not planned on remaining in clothing, but the situation made me impatient,” Spock admits softly, kissing Jim again before rolling right up against him and sliding his hand down Jim’s back and resting it over Jim’s tattoo possessively.
“Just for the record, I’m still going to try and get rid of the tattoo if I can, Spock.” Spock’s hand tightens its grip against Jim’s ass immediately, giving it a firm squeeze.
“No.”
Jim smiles. “I know you like it, but I cannot have someone’s name stamped on my ass, that’s not me, and it’s unprofessional.”
“I will ask you to reconsider. For Vulcans, it is extremely enticing having their name on their mate, marking them. I hope you do not erase it from your body.”
“We’ll see,” Jim says, still planning on getting rid of it if he possibly can.
Five years later and he still had the tattoo. And Spock.
END