Turn Not Back, 2 of 2

Mar 17, 2011 10:13


Title: Turn Not Back
Author: ladyblahblah 
Beta: ninjaboots 
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk, background Bones/Gaila and Uhura/Chapel
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slight dub-con
Disclaimer: One day I will complete my time machine, go back to the '60s and convince Gene Roddenberry to sign over the Trek franchise to me.  Unfortunately, until that day I'm afraid that I own nothing but the plot, which isn't even making me any profit. *sigh*
Summary:  Pon farr hits and Spock finds himself without a mate.  Except . . . wait, when did that happen?  Accidental!bonding fic. 
Author's Note:  For the st_respect Event 2 prompt: Origin Stories--How Your Ship Came To Be.  I was working with a word and a time limit here, which is sort of like my double plus ungood kryptonite.   I FINISHED AHAHAHAHAHAHA, but it necessitated cutting out a couple of things that were supposed to be in here.  I'll start working on the Director's Cut after the event is over, for anyone interested.  This entire thing was spawned by listening to Howl by Florence + the Machine on repeat, and a subsequent chat with the glorious ninjaboots .  Funtiemz!


<

"Jesus, Jim, you look like hell.”

“Then I look like I feel.” Jim wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I'm sorry for getting you out of bed, but . . . Bones, I think something is really wrong with me.”

Any remaining bleariness vanished as Bones's entire face seemed to sharpen in sudden attention. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sweating all the time, but I don't feel warm. I feel like I'm freezing. I've been to four different planets since I left Earth, the last two of which have been ninety percent desert, and they've all been too fucking cold. I can't sleep more than a couple of hours a night. It feels like I'm being watched, like there are eyes on me all the damn time.” He scrubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “It sounds crazy. Hell, I feel crazy. I . . .”

“You what?”

Jim shook his head, eyes darting away. “Nothing. It's nothing.”

Bones looked skeptical but he didn't press, and Jim felt himself sag in relief. He couldn't tell Bones the rest; couldn't tell him that he was hard almost all the time now, that he'd wake up feeling alone and trapped and empty, that he'd started to feel like he'd go mad if he didn't get something inside of him. He certainly couldn't tell his friend that he had bought half a dozen sex toys in the past week, or that digging his fingernails hard into his thigh was the only thing grounding him enough to keep from cutting off the call, climbing into bed and fucking himself until he passed out. Again.

“-see a doctor,” Bones was saying, and Jim flushed when he realized that he had drifted into his own world again. He shook himself and tried to focus.

“Why do you think I'm calling you?” he demanded. “Look, you know I don't want to screw with your leave time, but please, you've gotta check me out. I feel like I'm losing my mind here.”

“I meant a doctor there, Jim. If things are as bad as you say, just-”

“No. No, no, no, no.” Jim felt his eyes growing wide, his terror and disgust at the idea so strong that he had actually begun to shake. “I can't, I can't, the thought of someone touching me, I-”

“Okay!” Bones held up his hands, his own eyes widening in helpless concern. “It's okay, Jim, just calm down.”

“I can't do it, Bones.”

“All right.” The doctor hesitated. “Jim, if you can make it here you know I'll look you over, but . . . you know I'll have to touch you for an examination, right?”

“That's different.” Jim took a deep breath. “You're . . . family. You're practically family. It's different.” It didn't make any sense, but simply saying the words aloud helped calm him.

“How soon can you get here?”

“I'm halfway back already, stuck on this god-forsaken space station.” Jim's fingers trembled as he called up the information he had accessed on his PADD. “There's a ship coming in tonight that has a good record of express runs between here and Earth, and it's listed as willing to take on passengers. I figure if I pay the captain enough he'll take me back; I should be able to get there in three days if we leave tomorrow morning.”

“Damn it. All right. You keep me updated if you can manage subspace calls while you're aboard, understand?”

“I'll do my best. Thanks.”

Bones just grunted. “Try to get some rest. And document your condition on the way here if you're up to it. If you're not, find someone else to do it for you, I mean it. Now try to get some rest.”

Jim nodded as he severed the call, but he knew it would be a useless attempt. He felt wired and restless, and god, so empty. He had been on his hands and knees less than an hour ago, face pressed into the mattress as he rocked his hips back against the thick vibrator he was working inside of him. It hadn't been enough still, so close but not quite what he needed, not until his mind had drifted back to Spock again. The thought of him fucking Jim just like that, the fact that Jim could practically feel Spock behind him, had made him come almost immediately.

Jim had been attracted to Spock almost since he'd first seen him; several months after that he had realized that Spock was one of his best friends; a year ago Jim had been terrified to realize that his feelings weren't going to go away. The wanting was nothing new. But Jim had never been this single-minded, never been incapable of thinking of anything but Spock fucking him raw and-

He checked the ship's information again. The Prospect was due to dock in about twenty minutes and depart again at 0800. That left Jim with just over twelve hours left to wait.

Fuck that, he thought, and stood, shivering as he dropped the blanket. He'd meet the ship when it docked and talk to the captain then. It wasn't like he had anything better to spend his Starfleet salary on; whatever it cost, he was getting out of here and on his way back to Earth tonight.

The corridors were cold, even dressed as he was in clothes better suited for Delta Vega than for the planets he had visited. The Prospect had logged its transporters as being non-operational, which meant that transport between ship and station would have to be done via shuttlecraft. He would head to the shuttlebay, he decided, and try to talk his way into transport onto the ship so that he could speak with the captain directly. He certainly wasn't in any shape to make a positive impression over a vidscreen, but if he could plead his case-and offer his credits-in person, then he figured he might have a chance.

Jim walked quickly, taking the longer way around the station in order to avoid the more heavily populated areas; just the thought of being around people made him want to bolt for cover. Every face had begun to seem threatening; he had spent the two days since his arrival almost exclusively in his quarters, unable to bear the uneasy sense of exposure that shivered down his spine whenever he was in public.

One of the Prospect's shuttles had landed and was just opening its doors when Jim arrived, and his heart kicked into overdrive. His stomach began to flutter with a familiar sense of anticipation. Gut instinct, he always told Spock, something that his Vulcan XO dismissed out of hand but that Jim had come to trust implicitly. This ship was going to help him; he no longer had any doubt. Maybe, he thought, once Bones had fixed him up he would drop by to visit Spock. Not before. Jim was half-hard just at the thought of him; if he actually saw Spock while he was in this state there was no telling what-

His mind ground to a stuttering halt as Spock stepped out of the shuttle as if summoned by Jim's thoughts. Another Vulcan followed close behind him, a fact that Jim barely had time to register before his entire world seemed to narrow down to Spock's eyes locked on his.

Jim was shaking, torn between the terror of the hunted and the almost overwhelming urge to jump Spock and just fucking take him then and there. He could imagine it with almost painful clarity-the sound of Spock's robes tearing beneath his hands, the feel of his lips, the heat of him, and he was so close, just a few quick steps and Jim could have him. Hard and fast and violent and good, so good he wanted he needed oh god he burned. He had to have Spock now, buried inside him and to hell with anyone watching. Better for them to watch, to know that Spock was taken, claimed, Jim's. His body tensed, ready to spring.

He couldn't.

Spock wasn't his; he didn't have the right. So with the very last shred of his control, Jim did the only thing left for him to do.

He ran.

A snarl ripped through the air behind him but Jim was already tearing through the corridors back the way he had come. This was what he had been waiting for, he knew somehow, what had been setting his nerves on edge for over a week now. Spock running him down, footsteps pounding after him that echoed in the savage pulse of Jim's blood., and now that it was happening the fear was gone, evaporated as if it had never been. He ran so that Spock would prove himself, ran to make Spock chase him. The footsteps grew closer all the time, and Spock would catch him soon.

Spock would catch him, and then they would see.

Jim reached the door to his quarters and skidded to a stop, cursing under his breath when it remained stubbornly closed. His fingers were still scrambling over the keypad, trying to disengage the automatic privacy locks when Spock rounded the corner after him. With an extra burst of speed he reached Jim just before he could finish, hands clamped like vises around Jim's shoulders and eyes blown nearly black. A fresh burst of adrenaline hit Jim's system and he tore himself out of Spock's grasp, shoving hard at his chest for good measure. Jim heard Spock's body hit the opposite wall as he spun back around to key in the final three numbers and the door slid open with a quiet hiss.

He had barely taken a step before Spock was on him again. His arms were locked around Jim's waist now, his mouth latched onto the back of Jim's neck where he was kissing and biting down hard enough to mark. Jim's eyes rolled back in his head and he shifted back against Spock's body seeking more contact, only to twist and try to jerk out of Spock's arms a second later. Spock simply growled against his skin and tightened his grip. He began to move forward, pushing them along together until Jim's shins hit the edge of the bed and sent him tumbling down with Spock on top of him.

The room seemed to spin as Spock flipped him over and he found himself pinned with his back to the mattress, the warmth of Spock's body sinking into Jim's heat-starved skin. Caught and contained, the urge to escape drained out of Jim all at once. He was almost dizzy, unable to keep up with his own shifting mental state, from fear to exhilaration to lust. For just a moment he struggled against it, trying to assert some control over what he was feeling. Then Spock settled more firmly between his legs and Jim's mind emptied of everything but blind, consuming need.

The sound of ripping fabric seemed to echo off the walls as Spock tore at Jim's clothes. His touch went from rough to delicate and back again, fingertips stroking lightly over Jim's skin before his palms flattened against Jim's ribs, filling his hands in strong, greedy strokes. Jim shoved and struggled with Spock's robes, needing bare skin to touch, needing Spock closer. He found the closures through pure blind luck while Spock licked and bit at his collarbone, and after another few minutes of desperate struggle they managed to shake off Spock's robes and the tattered remains of Jim's clothing.

When Spock settled back against him, skin against skin, Jim almost came then and there. He reached out blindly, scrabbling for the lube he knew was waiting on the bedside table and squeezing almost half of it into his hand before reaching down to grasp Spock's cock. Spock bucked into the touch as a groan tore its way out of his chest, and without ceremony batted Jim's hand away, yanked his legs up and apart, and pushed inside with a single sharp, vicious thrust.

In other circumstances, Jim might have been embarrassed to be coming so quickly. But Spock's heat was soaking into his skin, and the aching emptiness that had tormented Jim for days had finally fled as Spock's cock left him perfectly, blissfully full. Jim's entire body tightened and shook as his orgasm shot through him like electric pulses. He felt Spock's hips snap once, twice, and the hot spill of his seed inside Jim's body set off a series of aftershocks nearly as strong as Jim's initial climax.

He forced his eyes open as he struggled for breath, and a tentative shift of his hips confirmed that Spock was still fully hard. Jim reached up to stroke a fingertip along the edge of a pointed ear. Spock's head lifted, his eyes meeting Jim's for the first time since Spock had caught him. His face was flushed a delicate green, his lips dark and swollen around heavy, panting breaths. Something seemed to flutter at the back of Jim's mind, something warm and familiar.

Jim pulled Spock down into a kiss and the flutter grew more insistent, strengthening while Jim explored the taste and shape and texture of Spock's mouth. It felt nice; enticing and comfortable and right, and he wanted more. He reached down for Spock's hand and pressed it to his temple.

“Help me,” he murmured against Spock's lips.

The kiss turned fierce as Spock's fingers slid into place and his hips began to move again; Jim simply wrapped himself around him and got ready to enjoy the ride.

*******************************

Jim squirmed a bit in front of the vidscreen as Bones stared him down. He was fully aware of how he must look, because he had caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror just before he placed the call. Eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded; hair sticking up at all angles; a dozy smile that crept onto his face if he let his guard down for even a moment. Between the exhausted heaviness in his limbs and a lingering, pervasive soreness, he couldn't even sit up properly.

“So basically what you're telling me,” Bones said at last, his eyes narrowed and a scowl brewing over his face, “is that you called me three days ago in a panic, thinking you were dying, but it was just a false alarm and you're fine now.”

“Um.” It probably wasn't the smartest idea in this particular situation, but Jim couldn't seem to help but smile sheepishly. “Yes?”

“You call me in a panic, talking about a whole mess of symptoms that don't make a damn bit of sense.” Bones's voice was growing louder and louder, and Jim was suddenly profoundly glad for the massive stretch of space that separated them. “I worry myself sick over you for three goddamn days. Then you call again relaxed and practically high and for god's sake, man, is that a hickey?”

Jim touched the side of his neck, and his smile only grew at the smug rumble that sounded from across the room.

“Well . . .”

“So help me, Jim,” Bones growled, sounding almost dangerous now, “if you nearly gave me a heart attack just because you hadn't been getting laid, you're gonna find yourself missing some vital body parts.”

“No! Well . . . okay, kind of, but you're really missing some important-”

“JIM!”

“Look, let's just focus on the fact that I'm better now! I swear, Bones, I'll fill you in when I get back, all right? It's . . .” He glanced over at Spock. “It's sort of a sensitive subject.”

“Sensitive subject,” Bones snorted. He paused to look at Jim again. “Well, you do look better, I'll give you that.”

“Thanks. I am better.”

“Your color's back,” Bones continued almost to himself. “You look like you've actually gotten some rest. Hell, you look happy.” His eyebrows lifted, and a reluctant smile spread over his face. “It's good to see you like this, Jim. You haven't looked this good since before you started talking about being in love with the hobgoblin. I'm glad to see you finally getting back to . . . to . . . wait a minute.”

“Yeah.” Jim's blissed-out smile was back. “I, um. I have some news for you, actually.”

“Spock?” McCoy was back to simply staring through the vidscreen again. “You're . . . you two are . . .”

“We're sort of married,” Jim grinned.

“You're what?”

“It's a little more complicated than that, actually; I don't really understand the whole thing myself. We think it probably happened back on Boranis III, when that meld saved my life. He says in order to keep my mind from shutting down he had to act as an anchor, and while he was trying to hold on . . . well, the bond itself was sort of an accident. But it made my system go haywire-well, not the bond itself, exactly, but-”

“You're married?”

“Yes, Dr. McCoy, he is.” Spock had moved so quietly that Jim jumped a little when he appeared beside Jim's chair. “And now I believe that this conversation has gone on quite long enough. We will provide you with further information when we return to Starfleet Headquarters.”

Spock didn't bother to sever the call; instead he simply reached down and lifted Jim out of his chair, holding him aloft with no apparent effort as he carried him back to bed. Behind them Jim could hear McCoy sputtering something about not wanting to see this before he cut his end of the transmission.

To Jim's surprise, when Spock lowered him to the bed he made no move to undress him. Instead, he simply settled himself over Jim's body with his chest pressed against Jim's stomach and his arms folded over Jim's chest. Effectively held in place, Jim smirked up at him as he idly stroked his hands up and down Spock's sides, pausing with each pass to savor the thrum of Spock's heartbeat.

“A little possessive, are we?” he teased, purely for the pleasure of watching the tips of Spock's ears turn faintly green.

“I did warn you,” Spock replied, eyes not quite meeting Jim's. “Vulcan instinct is strong, and until my Time has passed completely I will not tolerate the possibility of competition.”

Jim snorted. “Bones isn't competition. He's practically family.”

“And that is the only reason I was able to hold my temper for as long as I did. I assure you, once my hormonal levels have normalized again, I will not attempt to limit your interactions with others.”

Jim's hands stilled for a moment. “And this only hits once every seven years, right?”

“In theory.” Spock's back arched slightly, pressing into Jim's touch until his hands began to move again. “Vulcan's destruction has caused a great deal of turmoil, however, and there is no way to tell what long-term effects it may have on pon farr cycles.”

Jim nodded. “And . . .”

It would be easy now to give in to the low hum of arousal that was still buzzing beneath his skin, the banked need that was slipping through their bond. He wanted to do that, to lose himself in Spock and simply enjoy what he had while he had it. But he owed them both more than that.

“What happens in between?” he finally finished, forcing his eyes to meet Spock's as he asked. Spock stared back, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“I am uncertain what you mean.”

Jim sighed. “I just . . . look, I don't want to assume anything about . . . well, we weren't anything like together before this happened, so . . .”

Spock tensed, his eyes falling shut as his jaw tightened. “I recognize that you were never given the opportunity to reject or consent to our bond. You are well within your rights to have it dissolved; I am afraid, however, that my current state is making it difficult for me to . . . you are mine,” he said viciously, “and I will not-” He snapped his mouth shut and forced several deep breaths. “If you will . . . if you will only allow me enough time to fully recover-”

“Hey. Hey.” Jim framed Spock's face with both hands, stroking his thumbs gently against his cheeks until Spock opened his eyes again. “We'll talk about it later, all right? It's okay. I just wanted you to know that I wasn't going to hold you to any of this. You're not exactly in your right mind right now.”

Spock stared back at him. “Jim,” he said slowly, “I profoundly regret the manner in which this has happened. I would never have wished to bond with you without your knowledge or consent. However, I confess that I have had every intention of securing your consent for some time.”

Jim's heart leapt. “So.” He swallowed nervously. “If I told you that I've been been stupidly in love with you for the past year-”

He was cut off by Spock's kiss, their lips meeting even as Spock's fingers lifted to glide over the backs of Jim's hands.

“Okay,” Jim said when they finally came up for air, that stupid, dopey grin spreading over his face again. “So we're doing this.”

Spock's eyebrow arched, but the warmth in his eyes matched the flutter of contented amusement at the back of Jim's mind. “It would seem that we are.

“It's not going to be easy.” Jim's smile dimmed at the thought. “Starfleet probably isn't going to be wild about the flagship's two highest-ranking officers being married. There are gonna be problems.”

“Indeed.” Spock's fingertip were still sliding against Jim's. “I would remind you, however, that we are accustomed to dealing with problems of a significantly larger scope on a regular basis.”

“There is that,” Jim conceded. “They'll worry I won't be able to send you into dangerous situations anymore.” And if he were being honest, he admitted to himself, it wasn't an unreasonable fear. But Spock's eyebrow simply lifted once more as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Did you love me less when you were uncertain of my regard?” he asked, and Jim had to smile again.

“No.”

“Command is not insensible to logic, and we are better together than apart.”

“Well.” Jim sighed and shifted deliberately beneath Spock's weight. “If you turn out to be wrong about that, I suppose there's always piracy.”

Spock's eyebrow twitched. “Jim.”

“You and me, out there in the black. We'll get you an earring and a parrot, learn some of the lingo.”

“There are times, I must admit, when you are entirely incomprehensible to me.”

“That's easy enough to fix.” Jim captured one of Spock's hands and brought his fingers to his lips, watching Spock's eyes sharpen as Jim pressed soft, lingering kisses to his fingertips. He moved Spock's hand to his temple, then, his head tilted in invitation. “I'm an open book.”

Jim's eyes closed as Spock slid into his mind and contentment washed through him. Eventually they would have to return to their usual routines, to duty and responsibility and the thousand little tedious details of normal life. For now, though, he had a private room with a comfortable bed, a replicator, and a Vulcan with a seemingly inexhaustible sex drive.

All in all, he thought at Spock with a grin, definitely not a bad first date.

fic post, star trek, ship olympics, spock/kirk, slash

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