Don't Stop Believing Part II 2.1/?
Title: Don't Stop Believing 2.1/?
Beta: fantabulous
musical_magic
Pairings/Characters: Pike/Spock, Gaila
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex?
Summary: Professor Spock is in for a surprise
Notes: Please visit the Master Post for pairings/ratings/summary etc. explanations. Yes, still headed for Kirk/Spock. Have faith. ;)
Part I
Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | 1.8
Part II
4 years - 8 months ago
When he decided to apply for a position at Starfleet Academy, Spock was aware that the job would present certain challenges for which three years aboard a starship probably hadn’t prepared him. However, seeing unclothed individuals jumping out the second-floor windows at oh-two-hundred hours has decidedly exceeded his expectations.
He’s been working late at the lab, and as he’s leaving the main building, Spock is certain he is the last one, save of course for security. He’s walking along his customary path across campus, heading for the main gates. He rents a small apartment close enough to the Academy, but not quite on its territory. Spock usually walks back home, enjoying the meditative effect of an unhurried stroll.
Tonight, however, it has been interrupted, quite abruptly, by the sight of an unclothed female body moving from a building toward the ground. The speed and trajectory of the movement allow Spock to locate the point where the jump originated with sufficient accuracy. The soft, quiet thud tells him the landing has gone smoothly.
The jumper straightens up, not bothering to cover herself. She turns with an obvious intent to run, and that’s when her eyes catch sight of Spock.
“Shit.”
Spock thinks that a) he was wrong, and she isn’t completely naked if a pair of miniscule panties could be considered an article of clothing in its own rights, and b) he shouldn’t be surprised at all. Not really.
“Cadet Fumbrritsskanjjngh.”
She grimaces, walking toward him.
“You know, Commander, you’re probably the only person in Starfleet who can pronounce my last name, but would it really kill you to call me Gaila? Just, you know” - she spreads her arms to indicate her state of undress - “in view of this?”
Spock regards her coolly before glancing briefly at the building. “This is a males’ dorm.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Obvious, sir.”
Spock lifts an eyebrow. “Cadet, I really doubt that insulting me will help your situation any.”
“My situation?” She bats her eyelashes at him charmingly.
“Currently, I can report you for being outside your dorm after the curfew without cause, trespassing, and blatantly violating Starfleet uniform code.”
Gaila giggles. “You know, I’d really love to see their faces when you’ll be, uh, reporting me for that.” She looks up at him, her eyes glinting mysteriously in the sparse light. “You know, it really is kinda cool out here.”
Spock suppresses the urge to close his eyes in exasperation. He unzips his jacket, pulls it off, and hands it to her.
“Thanks.” She smiles sweetly at him and looks appreciatively over his upper body, clad in nothing but a standard issue tank top now. “Wow, would you look at those arms? Nice body, Commander.”
“Thank you,” Spock says dryly. “Give me one good reason for not reporting your activities.”
“Um…” She presses her finger to her lips, a picture of thoughtfulness. “I’m good at math? I speak Vulcan? No, no, wait! Here’s a good one. I know how to break security lockouts in the Academy’s Test Center computer but haven’t done it yet!”
Spock stares at her. “You know - Where did you get this information?”
She shrugs dismissively, smirking. “I was bored during a lecture once and hacked it by accident.”
“You hacked it?”
“Just testing a new algorithm. Why, does my gorgeous body make you think I don’t have the smarts?” She taps her chin mockingly. “Tut, tut, aren’t we being sexist, Commander?”
“No,” Spock says, and it sounds suspiciously like a stifled groan. “I am being constantly amazed at the length certain individuals would go to entertain themselves, however.”
“Well, I’m a certified expert in entertainment,” Gaila assures him seriously. “Of any kind.”
“How long have you been in possession of this information?” Spock asks, steadily ignoring her advances.
“Oh, about four months, maybe five? I really don’t remember.”
“Yet you have not used your knowledge to attain an illegal benefit and improve your scores. Why?”
She scowls indignantly, and it seems remarkably genuine. “I don’t need it! I’ll have you know that I’m a decent student.”
Maybe it’s too easy, but Spock can’t help it. “So forgive me if the word ‘decent’ is not the first to come to my mind when I see you jumping out the males’ dorm window in the middle of the night in a conspicuous lack of attire.”
“Hey! Is it my fault you have a dirty mind?” She tilts her head belligerently. “I was helping - someone with their temporal mechanics homework!”
“At this hour? And your hasty retreat was a result of a temporal paradox?”
“Well, that”- her drawl slips into sulkiness -“and an untimely arrival of a jealous girlfriend. I told her I could help her with her classes, too, but she wasn’t into it.” She makes a face. “Humans.”
Spock looks away for a moment, making another equivalent of a human eye roll. “Do you at least realize that your behavior is unbecoming a Starfleet officer?”
“A human Starfleet officer, maybe.” She lifts her chin up defiantly. “It’s perfectly becoming an Orion. And aren’t you the one who always preaches diversity, Commander?”
Spock closes his eyes briefly, giving up. The girl is way too much for him to handle.
“Go to your dorm, Cadet,” he says. “You can return the jacket to me tomorrow. Preferably in a discreet fashion.”
Gaila’s eyes widen and she’s already shaking her head. “Oh, no. No way; you want to leave me here? Alone? What if I meet anyone?”
“What if you do?”
“They’d want to molest me on the spot!”
“And I am to assume that it would be a disagreeable option for you?”
“Why, you-” She bristles huffily. “You - Sir, you’re not a gentleman!”
“You are wearing my jacket,” Spock points out calmly.
“Well, you’re not a complete asshole,” she admits, “but - hey, do you even realize that if you weren’t Vulcan, we’d be going at it like rabbits by now?”
“Somehow I doubt that would have made me any more of a gentleman.”
“Oh, please, walk me to my dorm, Spock?” she pleads desperately. Catching a glimpse of his eyebrow, she corrects herself quickly. “Commander. It’s so creepy here when it’s dark, all those shadows... Please?”
Suddenly Spock realizes three things at once. One: it’s completely safe for Gaila to walk across the Academy grounds alone. Two: there is no way she could have passed Starfleet psych examination if she was afraid of darkness. And finally, that it would speed up the process approximately five times if he agrees now and they don’t spend another half an hour here arguing before he agrees anyway.
“Very well,” he concedes. “But kindly restrain your impulses.”
“Oh, I’ll be good!” She beams. “But if you change your mind about that other thing... Fine, fine, I get it. Let’s go.”
They walk along the shadowy grounds side by side, but not too close. Good to her promise, Gaila tries to assume as much dignity as she can muster. Her lively nature gets the better of her, though, and her gait still resembles dance steps significantly more than a military march. Spock masks his amusement with his strict professor demeanor as best he can.
The conversation is quiet and surprisingly easy. Despite their banter, Spock knows that Gaila is a very talented computer specialist, and an enthusiast to boot. Spock is one of the few people in Starfleet who not only can pronounce Gaila’s last name, but also are immune to her pheromones. Her constant attempts to flirt with him don’t really mean anything, Spock knows. It’s just the way she is. He is quite certain in her sincerity, though, when she expresses desire for his company. For her, it must be quite refreshing to have her intellect and not her body at the center of attention.
They nearly make it all the way to her dorm, when Gaila suddenly trips over something and grabs at Spock in an attempt to keep her balance. Automatically, he reaches to support her, but just as he gets there, something firm, speedy and very determined crashes into his knees from behind with a low growl.
Spock and Gaila hit the ground in a tangled mess of limbs, accompanied by Gaila’s cursing and an unexpected dog’s barking.
“What in the garpagh was that?” Gaila hisses, bewildered, as she straightens up. “Did you see-?”
Before Spock can formulate a response, a man steps out of the shadows, pulling a very old looking smoking pipe out of his mouth. Gaila gapes for the good thirty seconds before snapping to attention. Spock rises from the ground, tempted to do the same.
“You know what?” Admiral Jonathan Archer says, looking over the pair of them, his gaze lingering on Spock’s hair and Gaila’s knees. “I’m not even going to ask.”
Privately, Spock believes it’s a wise decision.
Confusing as his days sometimes are, nights are worse. Maybe that’s why Spock is never in a hurry to get home. He meditates and it calms his senses somewhat, but he still needs to sleep and he can’t. His dreams are disturbed by vivid, heated images - memories and fantasies, all carved into his subconscious. Spock is tired of waking up reaching for a man who is no longer there.
He sleeps less and less.
Agnes is waiting for him on his doorstep when he comes back. He reaches down to pat her fluffy back and she arches into his hand, purring softly in greeting. Spock looks at the cat for a moment, then at his neighbor’s door across the lane. Somehow, he doesn’t think it’s the best time to return the runaway pet.
Agnes mewls and Spock gives in. He sinks to the ground, sitting down on the step and resting his back against the closed door. Agnes jumps into his lap, and Spock strokes her behind the ears. The purring intensifies.
Christopher would like Gaila, Spock reflects. The captain always liked what he described as ‘brains and beauty.’ Spock remembers the night when Christopher told him that. The small, well-hidden beach on Risa and their two days of shore leave in ten months. Spock knows he shouldn’t be torturing himself like this, but he’s tired of fighting.
He closes his eyes.
The stars are glimmering above them and around them, floating on the surface of the ocean. It’s warm enough for Spock and cool enough for Pike to remain on the beach, lying on a huge soft blanket. Spock is on his back, his arms pillowing his head, as he tries to convince Pike that the idea of constellations is illogical. Pike laughs, rolling half on top of Spock and watching his face.
They kiss slowly, languidly, almost lazily. After a day of sailing and three previous rounds of lovemaking, there is no rush and no urgency.
‘I like it when you’re relaxed,’ Pike says, tracing some peculiar pattern on Spock’s chest. ‘I rarely get to see you like this.’
‘You are the only one who has ever seen me like this,’ Spock replies.
Pike leans in and steals a kiss. ‘I hope it stays that way for a long, long time.’
Spock shifts, taking Pike’s face into his hands and kissing him deeply, devotedly. Pike mutters something into his mouth, and Spock doesn’t quite catch it, but he has a viable hypothesis. He can feel Pike’s pulse picking up the pace and his body tensing up, little by little.
‘Hell, Spock-” Pike rasps, tearing his mouth away for a moment. ‘You just won’t stop until you’ve killed me.’
Spock bites down Pike’s lower lip in response, and while the human moans and shudders Spock flips them over, pinning Pike underneath him. He buries his face in the crook of Pike’s neck, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin, not quite touching. Voice silky, Spock whispers, ‘Do you wish me to stop?’
‘I’ve created a monster,’ Pike groans breathlessly, tugging Spock closer. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’
Spock hides his smile in the surrounding darkness. He takes his time to worship every square inch of Pike’s skin, feeling Pike growing fully hard under his ministrations. Yet Spock avoids the most responsive area, making Pike curse a lot and call him a tease.
When Spock feels the notes of desperation spiking his lover’s voice heavily, he straightens up on his knees and locks gazes with Pike. Very slowly, very deliberately, Spock begins to open himself with one hand, using the other to hold Pike down.
‘Oh hell, you are a killer,’ Pike lets out, slurring, never knowing what he’s saying. His eyes are alarmingly wide. ‘You have no idea how... how... this is...’
Spock catches him and lowers himself down Pike’s straining length in one slick motion. For the first time ever, Spock hears Pike cry out like this, and it fills him with unprecedented satisfaction and joy. He sets up a rhythm and rides Pike, methodical and smooth, rolling his hips every now and then to hear more of those delicious sounds.
He can feel the moment when Pike snaps as clearly as if it rippled through the air between them. Pike lunges up and grabs him, and in a blurry split second Spock’s flat on his back and taking it, harder than it’s been in a while, apart from that insane first time.
‘You could have just asked,’ Pike murmurs eons later, when they lay next to each other, spent and quiet. Spock is on his stomach and Pike traces the curve of his spine gently.
‘I did,’ Spock responds, turning to look at Pike, a dark silhouette against the starry blackness. ‘I believe you could say that I was ‘asking for it.’’
Pike chuckles. ‘You so were. But you don’t have to go the extra mile to get there. You’re a walking provocation to anyone with eyes just as you are. Add any more and you’ll be fighting people off with a stick.’
Spock lifts himself up on his elbows. ‘You are exaggerating as usual.’
Pike rubs his shoulders in slow circles. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘No, Christopher. You did not hurt me in any way.’
‘Is that exasperation I hear in your voice, Lieutenant? I’m a fragile old man, you know. You should be gentle with me.’
‘You are anything but fragile, Christopher.’
‘We’re all fragile, Spock. The tougher we seem, the harder we shatter.’
Indeed, Spock thinks, opening his eyes. He had never considered himself particularly fragile - until Christopher proved him wrong.
The warm purring form in his lap suddenly tenses, and in a moment, Agnes digs her claws into his skin. She curls her spine in an angle only possible for a really irritated cat, and Spock looks up to determine what has offended her.
There are two men standing at the gate, looking directly at him. Spock rakes his eyes over their uniform and stands up, wondering what San Francisco police department could possibly want from him at this hour. In fact, what could they possibly want from him, period? Spock places Agnes carefully on the steps and walks over toward the police officers.
“Commander Spock, would you come with us, please?” one of them asks, and the tone of his voice brooks no argument.
Hardly intimidated, Spock lifts an eyebrow. “May I ask what for?”
“Captain Ramirez wants to see you.”
Well, that certainly explains some things. Ramirez had never sent police officers for him before, though. The matter must be quite urgent.
“May I take a minute to change?” Spock asks, suddenly having to stifle a shiver.
“You don’t have a minute,” the officer tells him firmly. He grabs Spock’s arm tightly and sticks a transponder to his bare skin. His partner keys a command on his communicator and Spock dematerializes on the spot, Agnes’ mewl following his abrupt departure.
2.2