igrab
in
grabi_hands
Perfectly Imperfect [Spock/Kirk, R]
Title: Perfectly Imperfect [or, The Five Times Spock's Hair was a Distraction (and the one time it was just hilarious)]
Author: igrab
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Written For: st_xi_kink, for this prompt
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,447
Summary: Kirk is turned on by seeing Spock's hair messed up.
Notes: can anyone explain the difference between R and NC-17? I've never actually known. thank you!
1:
The first time, it was an accident. All in a day's work, and when things were going smoothly, Kirk was never one for much protocol.
He was laughing, telling a joke to Sulu, something like that, and Spock could only remember that he'd said something in response, probably sarcastic and witty, and Kirk leaned over in his captain's chair and messed his hair up.
His eyes had gone wide for two reasons; the touch - which he should not have been surprised about, but was anyway - and the innate displeasure he felt at his hair being out of place.
The laughter echoing across the bridge didn't help either, but when his eyes locked with Kirk's, to assuredly give him an icy glare of doom, he was surprised to see that Kirk wasn't laughing - he was staring, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a very, very clear picture of astonishment.
Spock did not know what meant, but he did know that there was something burning in the look in his captain's eyes, and it was a look he would not easily forget.
2:
The second time, it was deliberate. They were in a meeting; or rather, waiting for a meeting, and Uhura and Chekov were debating something quietly in a corner when Kirk came up behind his first officer. He raked his fingers through the hair on his head, ruffling it against the grain, and Spock tilted his head back so he could see his attacker. Blue eyes, roaming appreciatively over the tousled, disheveled look of his commander. "Did you need something, Captain?" Spock murmured, and he shook his head quickly - too quickly - with a smile like silver.
"Nah. It's fine."
He moved to his chair and Spock combed his fingertips through his hair, but he knew it wasn't perfect, and he could feel the weight of those eyes on him as the meeting dragged on.
3:
The third time, it wasn't his fault. He happened to be in the transporter room, anxiously awaiting the return of the landing party with Doctor McCoy, and when they all beamed back, he only had eyes for one.
Spock was a mess. He knew it. His hair was everywhere, his shirt was torn, he had dirt streaking every inch of exposed skin and there was a cut on his cheek, oozing green. He locked eyes with the Captain and felt something inside him shudder fiercely, for the intrigue in his eyes had morphed into something wild, and dark, and hungry.
Spock was panting slowly for breath, and he found it harder and harder to catch up, losing himself in James Kirk's pure look of desire.
4:
He was in the sickbay, the fourth time, and it wasn't his fault again, but it was McCoy's. The doctor grabbed Kirk's arm, noticing the very obvious deer-in-headlights look that the captain had acquired the second he saw Spock lying there, soundly asleep but looking worn out.
"You get turned on by seeing his hair messed up? I think that classifies as kinky, Jim." Bones raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
"It's not that, it's like..." He leaned forward, tried to explain. "It's like his hair symbolizes his control. When it looks all out of order and ruffled, it looks like... like he's something wild, ready to leap any second..."
Bones shook his head, and whacked his friend on the back. "Jim, there's a simple solution to all of this."
"Yeah?"
"Two words. Bang. Him."
5:
He took every chance he got. Casual touches, not-so-casual touches, any time that he could, his hand would reach out and try to ruffle that perfect-looking black bowl. Spock became very good at keeping his distance, and Kirk found he missed it. Camaraderie from six feet away isn't nearly as much fun as from two. Or one.
He finally got his chance, walking side-by-side on the way down to Engineering. He'd held himself back, lulled Spock into a false sense of security, to bait him closer.
And now, he struck. Whipped a hand up, pulled it back - dug his fingers into his scalp a little harder than he'd intended.
Spock let out a feral growl, and slammed Kirk up against the nearest wall.
"What the f-"
But his exclamation was cut short with a torrid kiss, burning and scorching through his body. "Spock," he gasped, when they broke the kiss to breathe. "Fuck, Spock, what-"
Spock fisted a hand in his shirt and dragged him back to the turbolift. "My scalp is sensitive," was all he managed to purr, threateningly, before the doors slid shut, speeding them on their way back to one room or another.
1:
They ended up in the captain's quarters, which was closer, better protected, and had a bigger bed. Kirk could've cared less as long as Spock's hands were still on him, stroking, gripping, touching everywhere and leaving no part of him unmolested.
"Spock - jesus, Spock, yeah, right there..."
When he pulled himself together enough to think about reciprocating, he slid his hands up, felt Spock's breath stutter as he caressed his skin with rough hands, and when he knitted his strong fingers in the mess of black hair and tightened his fist, he moaned.
Kirk's entire body shuddered. Fuck, yes.
He didn't let up the pressure, pulled his hand back and Spock's head went right along with it, giving Kirk all the room in the world to press damp, open-mouthed kisses along the line of his neck. He was whimpering, twitching with every little swipe of his tongue, and god if it wasn't the hottest fucking thing in the world, seeing him all quivery and shaken and undone.
Kirk flipped them over. He took a second to sit there, breath heaving in his chest, as he looked at him, all gorgeous and mussed and fuckable in the faint starlight from his window. "Spock," he murmured, and the breath was like a prayer and a confirmation and an endearment, all in one. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."
"I could say the same for you," Spock managed in a voice that was breathy, inconsistent, and warm. Kirk wondered what he must look like... flushed red, panting for breath and lips parted, blue eyes - girls always complimented his eyes, and he couldn't blame them - unblinking as he stared.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna argue." He smirked, and Spock lifted an eyebrow, and that was it, he was laughing, smile stretched wide even as he painted his fingertips down the contours of Spock's beautiful Vulcan body. "Christ, Spock, you're going to be the death of me." He leaned down and kissed at the center of his chest, right above the solar plexus. Spock squirmed.
"Jim, please-" and he knew, then, that this couldn't be the last time, couldn't possibly be, because how would he ever get of enough of that voice, that even, structured voice, broken down and stilted and so full of want that he'd never thought possible? "Please."
As if he thought Kirk was capable of resisting.
Afterward, their bodies lay tangled, clothes everywhere, stuck lazily with the sweat of Jim's body against the dryness of Spock's. He was so curious, in that regard - his hands wouldn't stop trailing over his skin, even when his voice was a whisper-plead for him to Stop because he was too sensitive, still too sensitive. It was all so much.
He relented, and to keep his hands busy, he lifted them to the utter rumpled state of Spock's hair. Piece by piece, slowly, his fingertips brushing with a tenderness he hardly ever showed, he put it back in place, until it was shining in a smooth, straight line across his forehead.
When he looked down, Spock's smile was almost sweet. "Thank you, Jim. I sincerely hope this won't become the pattern of our interaction in the future."
"Oh, I sincerely hope it will." He chuckled, kissing the sweep of those aggravating pointy eyebrows. "Though next time? I'll try to make sure we weren't supposed to be doing engine tests."
Spock's eyes flew open as he remembered, and he shot out of bed, scrambling to get his clothes back on.
"Spock, wait..." Kirk called out, but he was already gone.
"..Your hair's... a mess."
Author: igrab
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Written For: st_xi_kink, for this prompt
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,447
Summary: Kirk is turned on by seeing Spock's hair messed up.
Notes: can anyone explain the difference between R and NC-17? I've never actually known. thank you!
1:
The first time, it was an accident. All in a day's work, and when things were going smoothly, Kirk was never one for much protocol.
He was laughing, telling a joke to Sulu, something like that, and Spock could only remember that he'd said something in response, probably sarcastic and witty, and Kirk leaned over in his captain's chair and messed his hair up.
His eyes had gone wide for two reasons; the touch - which he should not have been surprised about, but was anyway - and the innate displeasure he felt at his hair being out of place.
The laughter echoing across the bridge didn't help either, but when his eyes locked with Kirk's, to assuredly give him an icy glare of doom, he was surprised to see that Kirk wasn't laughing - he was staring, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a very, very clear picture of astonishment.
Spock did not know what meant, but he did know that there was something burning in the look in his captain's eyes, and it was a look he would not easily forget.
2:
The second time, it was deliberate. They were in a meeting; or rather, waiting for a meeting, and Uhura and Chekov were debating something quietly in a corner when Kirk came up behind his first officer. He raked his fingers through the hair on his head, ruffling it against the grain, and Spock tilted his head back so he could see his attacker. Blue eyes, roaming appreciatively over the tousled, disheveled look of his commander. "Did you need something, Captain?" Spock murmured, and he shook his head quickly - too quickly - with a smile like silver.
"Nah. It's fine."
He moved to his chair and Spock combed his fingertips through his hair, but he knew it wasn't perfect, and he could feel the weight of those eyes on him as the meeting dragged on.
3:
The third time, it wasn't his fault. He happened to be in the transporter room, anxiously awaiting the return of the landing party with Doctor McCoy, and when they all beamed back, he only had eyes for one.
Spock was a mess. He knew it. His hair was everywhere, his shirt was torn, he had dirt streaking every inch of exposed skin and there was a cut on his cheek, oozing green. He locked eyes with the Captain and felt something inside him shudder fiercely, for the intrigue in his eyes had morphed into something wild, and dark, and hungry.
Spock was panting slowly for breath, and he found it harder and harder to catch up, losing himself in James Kirk's pure look of desire.
4:
He was in the sickbay, the fourth time, and it wasn't his fault again, but it was McCoy's. The doctor grabbed Kirk's arm, noticing the very obvious deer-in-headlights look that the captain had acquired the second he saw Spock lying there, soundly asleep but looking worn out.
"You get turned on by seeing his hair messed up? I think that classifies as kinky, Jim." Bones raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
"It's not that, it's like..." He leaned forward, tried to explain. "It's like his hair symbolizes his control. When it looks all out of order and ruffled, it looks like... like he's something wild, ready to leap any second..."
Bones shook his head, and whacked his friend on the back. "Jim, there's a simple solution to all of this."
"Yeah?"
"Two words. Bang. Him."
5:
He took every chance he got. Casual touches, not-so-casual touches, any time that he could, his hand would reach out and try to ruffle that perfect-looking black bowl. Spock became very good at keeping his distance, and Kirk found he missed it. Camaraderie from six feet away isn't nearly as much fun as from two. Or one.
He finally got his chance, walking side-by-side on the way down to Engineering. He'd held himself back, lulled Spock into a false sense of security, to bait him closer.
And now, he struck. Whipped a hand up, pulled it back - dug his fingers into his scalp a little harder than he'd intended.
Spock let out a feral growl, and slammed Kirk up against the nearest wall.
"What the f-"
But his exclamation was cut short with a torrid kiss, burning and scorching through his body. "Spock," he gasped, when they broke the kiss to breathe. "Fuck, Spock, what-"
Spock fisted a hand in his shirt and dragged him back to the turbolift. "My scalp is sensitive," was all he managed to purr, threateningly, before the doors slid shut, speeding them on their way back to one room or another.
1:
They ended up in the captain's quarters, which was closer, better protected, and had a bigger bed. Kirk could've cared less as long as Spock's hands were still on him, stroking, gripping, touching everywhere and leaving no part of him unmolested.
"Spock - jesus, Spock, yeah, right there..."
When he pulled himself together enough to think about reciprocating, he slid his hands up, felt Spock's breath stutter as he caressed his skin with rough hands, and when he knitted his strong fingers in the mess of black hair and tightened his fist, he moaned.
Kirk's entire body shuddered. Fuck, yes.
He didn't let up the pressure, pulled his hand back and Spock's head went right along with it, giving Kirk all the room in the world to press damp, open-mouthed kisses along the line of his neck. He was whimpering, twitching with every little swipe of his tongue, and god if it wasn't the hottest fucking thing in the world, seeing him all quivery and shaken and undone.
Kirk flipped them over. He took a second to sit there, breath heaving in his chest, as he looked at him, all gorgeous and mussed and fuckable in the faint starlight from his window. "Spock," he murmured, and the breath was like a prayer and a confirmation and an endearment, all in one. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."
"I could say the same for you," Spock managed in a voice that was breathy, inconsistent, and warm. Kirk wondered what he must look like... flushed red, panting for breath and lips parted, blue eyes - girls always complimented his eyes, and he couldn't blame them - unblinking as he stared.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna argue." He smirked, and Spock lifted an eyebrow, and that was it, he was laughing, smile stretched wide even as he painted his fingertips down the contours of Spock's beautiful Vulcan body. "Christ, Spock, you're going to be the death of me." He leaned down and kissed at the center of his chest, right above the solar plexus. Spock squirmed.
"Jim, please-" and he knew, then, that this couldn't be the last time, couldn't possibly be, because how would he ever get of enough of that voice, that even, structured voice, broken down and stilted and so full of want that he'd never thought possible? "Please."
As if he thought Kirk was capable of resisting.
Afterward, their bodies lay tangled, clothes everywhere, stuck lazily with the sweat of Jim's body against the dryness of Spock's. He was so curious, in that regard - his hands wouldn't stop trailing over his skin, even when his voice was a whisper-plead for him to Stop because he was too sensitive, still too sensitive. It was all so much.
He relented, and to keep his hands busy, he lifted them to the utter rumpled state of Spock's hair. Piece by piece, slowly, his fingertips brushing with a tenderness he hardly ever showed, he put it back in place, until it was shining in a smooth, straight line across his forehead.
When he looked down, Spock's smile was almost sweet. "Thank you, Jim. I sincerely hope this won't become the pattern of our interaction in the future."
"Oh, I sincerely hope it will." He chuckled, kissing the sweep of those aggravating pointy eyebrows. "Though next time? I'll try to make sure we weren't supposed to be doing engine tests."
Spock's eyes flew open as he remembered, and he shot out of bed, scrambling to get his clothes back on.
"Spock, wait..." Kirk called out, but he was already gone.
"..Your hair's... a mess."