FIC: Interwove (Kirk/Spock, 1/1)
Jim jerked awake to the sensation of his blankets being removed, slowly, sensually sliding down his body. It was not unpleasant in any sense of the word, but the feral eyes glittering at him through the darkness, hinting at an unexplained madness and a physical strength that Jim was well aware surpassed his own, sent tendrils of fear up his spine.
So Spock had come.
He’d begun to think the guy had completely missed the significance of Jim entrusting him with the security code to his quarters. Oh, the act had been about trust, friendship and open communication, certainly, but there was more, so much more. A fascination; a drive; an unseen force that grasped Jim’s attention and kept it focused on Spock in a way that was so completely out of his purview that it sometimes frightened him.
Yet he hadn’t expected Spock to act on it. There had always been this transparent barrier between them; a barrier that, once crossed, would change them irrevocably.
Apparently Spock was feeling bold. Then again, it had been a week for erratic, unpredictable behavior from Spock. He’d been irritable, snappish, and so tightly strung that the tension buzzed around him like electric current. And now, this.
Here, now, Jim felt like prey, and his gentle, controlled, Vulcan best friend -- he looked every inch the predator crouched over him in Jim’s own bed.
Spock’s grin was lost to the shadows, but somehow Jim could feel it. When the Vulcan’s hot fingertips trailed down his naked chest, triggering goose bumps and a rush of blood to his head (actually, both heads), it left him dizzy and wanting. In his mind he heard a familiar voice tell him, ‘We have always been leading up to this, you and I. Now is the time to act. You are mine, you were always meant to be mine, as I was meant to be yours. It is time and I will have you.’
There was a small, intense battle in his mind. Part of him resented being told what to do, and hated being afraid, of anything, let alone of the man he secretly loved. But part of him found the whole thing rather… exciting. In the end the battle was won because truth, as always, eclipsed all.
In his heart he knew that Spock was right; they had always been leading to this, and--fuck his fear and his constant need for control--part of Jim did want to be owned. Had, in fact, always wanted it; had been unconsciously looking for it amongst a sea of faces his whole life. And when his eyes had met a set of challenging brown ones at his Kobayashi Maru hearing, his soul had known it, even if it had taken his mind a while to catch up.
So he nodded and Spock growled, and that was the only warning he had before a firm, hard chest slammed down onto his own, causing his breath to escape him in one big gush.
Spock was naked; the satin soft feeling of his heated skin against Jim’s bare chest made him instinctively arch up. With a quick show of Vulcan strength and the sound of cotton boxers tearing, Jim was naked as well.
The feeling of Spock’s erection against his own, hot and throbbing, made Jim throw his head back in wanton abandon, his hands grabbing fistfuls of sheet at his sides, while his body moved, utterly driven, by suddenly ravaging need.
He bumped and strained against his First, all available blood flowing straight to his cock, tiny lights glittering across his closed eyelids as he pushed towards a crescendo of ecstasy.
Spock’s body was hard, yet pliant, the perfect fit against his own -- the feeling beyond description -- and when he thrust and arched along with Jim, their pleasure mutually wanton, the sheer rightness of their actions locked in Jim’s mind like the joining of two puzzle pieces.
When he felt a tell-tale wetness, a natural lubricant, seemingly seeping from Spock’s penis, Jim thought that perhaps Vulcan men were indeed made for this, for claiming their counterparts in this way, whatever gender they might be.
‘T’hy’la,’ he heard in his head, as if the word confirmed his contemplation. And in a strange way, and although he’d never heard the term before, it did. It fit. It was them and they were it, and it encompassed what they were doing and what they had yet to accomplish.
‘Ready?’ Spock asked.
“Yes,” Jim responded, with the last bit of coherency he had left, and then he felt three defined finger-tips against his temple, and the slide of a body moving down his own.
All at once Jim was speared in two ways, his mind ensnared by Spock’s and his ass pierced by hot flesh. The sting was easily soothed by the sheer, unhampered rapture of experiencing what Spock was feeling as he entered Jim in all ways, mind and body. Of what he felt like to Spock, tight and engulfing, silky and quivering. Their mutual need was intense, almost too much to take.
“God, Spock!” he said, either in his mind, or out loud, he couldn’t really tell. What he could tell was that Spock had started to move, their bodies slapping against each other, each push hard and merciless, and Jim felt the combined sensation of their ecstasy hit him with such force it had him keening.
And when a wash of white filled his mind, and with a triumphant howl in his ears, he thought the word again, T’hy’la, and knew it to be beautiful.
When they caught their breath at last, Jim could practically hear the wheels in Spock’s head turning, searching to voice an explanation as if one was actually needed between them.
“I apologize for the abruptness of my actions. Vulcans feel a biological imperative to mate with a compatible mind --”
Jim placed his fingers gently on Spock’s lips. “Later, Spock. We have plenty of time.”
And they did.
The End!
So Spock had come.
He’d begun to think the guy had completely missed the significance of Jim entrusting him with the security code to his quarters. Oh, the act had been about trust, friendship and open communication, certainly, but there was more, so much more. A fascination; a drive; an unseen force that grasped Jim’s attention and kept it focused on Spock in a way that was so completely out of his purview that it sometimes frightened him.
Yet he hadn’t expected Spock to act on it. There had always been this transparent barrier between them; a barrier that, once crossed, would change them irrevocably.
Apparently Spock was feeling bold. Then again, it had been a week for erratic, unpredictable behavior from Spock. He’d been irritable, snappish, and so tightly strung that the tension buzzed around him like electric current. And now, this.
Here, now, Jim felt like prey, and his gentle, controlled, Vulcan best friend -- he looked every inch the predator crouched over him in Jim’s own bed.
Spock’s grin was lost to the shadows, but somehow Jim could feel it. When the Vulcan’s hot fingertips trailed down his naked chest, triggering goose bumps and a rush of blood to his head (actually, both heads), it left him dizzy and wanting. In his mind he heard a familiar voice tell him, ‘We have always been leading up to this, you and I. Now is the time to act. You are mine, you were always meant to be mine, as I was meant to be yours. It is time and I will have you.’
There was a small, intense battle in his mind. Part of him resented being told what to do, and hated being afraid, of anything, let alone of the man he secretly loved. But part of him found the whole thing rather… exciting. In the end the battle was won because truth, as always, eclipsed all.
In his heart he knew that Spock was right; they had always been leading to this, and--fuck his fear and his constant need for control--part of Jim did want to be owned. Had, in fact, always wanted it; had been unconsciously looking for it amongst a sea of faces his whole life. And when his eyes had met a set of challenging brown ones at his Kobayashi Maru hearing, his soul had known it, even if it had taken his mind a while to catch up.
So he nodded and Spock growled, and that was the only warning he had before a firm, hard chest slammed down onto his own, causing his breath to escape him in one big gush.
Spock was naked; the satin soft feeling of his heated skin against Jim’s bare chest made him instinctively arch up. With a quick show of Vulcan strength and the sound of cotton boxers tearing, Jim was naked as well.
The feeling of Spock’s erection against his own, hot and throbbing, made Jim throw his head back in wanton abandon, his hands grabbing fistfuls of sheet at his sides, while his body moved, utterly driven, by suddenly ravaging need.
He bumped and strained against his First, all available blood flowing straight to his cock, tiny lights glittering across his closed eyelids as he pushed towards a crescendo of ecstasy.
Spock’s body was hard, yet pliant, the perfect fit against his own -- the feeling beyond description -- and when he thrust and arched along with Jim, their pleasure mutually wanton, the sheer rightness of their actions locked in Jim’s mind like the joining of two puzzle pieces.
When he felt a tell-tale wetness, a natural lubricant, seemingly seeping from Spock’s penis, Jim thought that perhaps Vulcan men were indeed made for this, for claiming their counterparts in this way, whatever gender they might be.
‘T’hy’la,’ he heard in his head, as if the word confirmed his contemplation. And in a strange way, and although he’d never heard the term before, it did. It fit. It was them and they were it, and it encompassed what they were doing and what they had yet to accomplish.
‘Ready?’ Spock asked.
“Yes,” Jim responded, with the last bit of coherency he had left, and then he felt three defined finger-tips against his temple, and the slide of a body moving down his own.
All at once Jim was speared in two ways, his mind ensnared by Spock’s and his ass pierced by hot flesh. The sting was easily soothed by the sheer, unhampered rapture of experiencing what Spock was feeling as he entered Jim in all ways, mind and body. Of what he felt like to Spock, tight and engulfing, silky and quivering. Their mutual need was intense, almost too much to take.
“God, Spock!” he said, either in his mind, or out loud, he couldn’t really tell. What he could tell was that Spock had started to move, their bodies slapping against each other, each push hard and merciless, and Jim felt the combined sensation of their ecstasy hit him with such force it had him keening.
And when a wash of white filled his mind, and with a triumphant howl in his ears, he thought the word again, T’hy’la, and knew it to be beautiful.
When they caught their breath at last, Jim could practically hear the wheels in Spock’s head turning, searching to voice an explanation as if one was actually needed between them.
“I apologize for the abruptness of my actions. Vulcans feel a biological imperative to mate with a compatible mind --”
Jim placed his fingers gently on Spock’s lips. “Later, Spock. We have plenty of time.”
And they did.
The End!