Characters: Spock/Kirk, McCoy, Sarek
Notes: A good part of any writing experience is soundtrack, and I'd like to call out three songs that really gave me this chapter: Smash Mouth's 'Can't Get Enough of You, Baby', De/Vision's 'Your Hands on My Skin', and Torley Wong's 'Falling In Love For the Last Time'.
Seven hours after telling Spock it would be twelve hours, yet, Kirk let himself in to Spock's quarters, using the captain's override codes. "I'm early. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"You'll forgive me if I decline to stand, just yet. I was not expecting you so soon." Spock sat in the posture of meditation, naked and facing the windows that looked out onto the vast expanse of space. "Hand me the sheet from my bed, and I will rise to greet you, properly."
"Hey, sorry, I ... uh..." Kirk grabbed the sheet and tossed it to Spock.
Spock rose gracefully, exposing no more of his skin than he had to, as he wrapped the sheet like a toga and turned to face his captain. Holding out his hand, he asked, "You are prepared to undertake this, with me?"
"No, but I'll do it, anyway." Kirk grinned and ran a hand through his wet hair. "Cold showers aren't helping, at this point."
Much to Spock's surprise, Kirk jovially reached out and claspd his wrist, instead of his hand. There were, he reflected, some things that were too intimate for a human handshake, but not intimate enough for a Vulcan one. One corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.
"Jim, I need for you to understand what you are about to do, before you do it. If you decide that my life is not worth what I am asking of you, I will not hold it against you. It is a great deal to ask of anyone." Spock breathed deeply, before continuing -- whether it was his human side, or the irrationality co-morbid with Pon Farr, he was terrified. "We will never again be apart. I know that you have experienced a mind meld, with my older self, but the meld required for this to work will never wholly close. You will be a part of me, until your death. And I of you."
"Does that mean you'll be able to heckle my stupid ideas without even opening your mouth? I might get to like this idea." Jim's grin didn't falter in the least as he looked into Spock's eyes. "I already told you: you're not dying on my shift. The end."
Spock's eyebrows arced up, in surprise. "So be it."
He drew the captain to him, hands still clasped about wrists, each with one arm bent between them. "Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched," he whispered, fingers finding the appropriate points on Kirk's face. "Forgive me this, Jim."
"There's nothing to --" Kirk starts, but the world is gone in a violent swirl, and the heat of the fever which haunts Spock seizes him as well. It has never been like this, with a woman. It has never been like this, with a man. He has never had anything like the demanding, brutal need that floods him. Spock's fingers lift from his face, but the burning in his blood remains. "You're still with me... I can feel you."
"You will be the second human in history to know the violation of being mated to a Vulcan. I only pity you, that you did not love me of your own will." Spock faltered, stepping back. "I cannot force this on you, but I will, if you remain here."
"Force? Spock, have you lost your mind? I've already said I would do it."
"You don't understand what you've consented to. I can still remove myself from you, now, but if you go through with this --" He was cut off by Kirk's mouth against his own. With a strangled groan, he forced the captain back. "Captain, let me die. I cannot impose this on you."
"You are the most goddamned irrational Vulcan I've ever had the displeasure of being throttled by. I forbid you to die, so take off the goddamned bedsheet, and let's go." Kirk jerked his hand back and stripped off his shirt, throwing it to the floor in unspoken challenge.
Something inside Spock snapped, and he tore off the bedsheet he wore, roughly pulling his shirtless captain to him. "Mine. You are mine," he insisted, over and over again, as he traced over every feature of the body being offered, with his fingers and tongue.
Spock could remember leaving the now-darkening bite on Kirk's collarbone, but he couldn't recall how Kirk had become undressed, or how they had gotten to the bed. He was fading in and out of coherence as his captain sucked at his fingers, and he knew they could both feel both the sucking and the being sucked. The sound of Kirk's voice, below him, filtered through his consciousness, begging.
"Please! Spock, please, just take me... Stop fucking around and fuck me." Kirk's tongue stroked Spock's fingers between words, and Spock knew his mate's blood burned like his own.
With a clumsiness born of unfamiliarity, Spock pushed himself into the body below him, surprised to find his way already slicked. An appropriate memory floated by on the hazy connection between them, suggesting that Kirk had known enough to come prepared. The thought sparked a rush of jealous lust, and Spock slipped back into incoherence.
"Mine. You are mine." The words brought him to his senses, as he heard them from his mouth, and as much as he wanted his fingers back in his mate's mouth, his hands were locked tightly to Kirk's hips, instead, supporting the body he pounded into, hard and fast.
"You are mine," he growled again, and heard the words echo back from Kirk's mouth.
A change came over Kirk's face, as if he were waking from a dream. His eyes cleared, momentarily, as he gazed knowingly up at the Vulcan relentlessly fucking him. "I'm yours," he breathed, fingers caressing Spock's hand.
Spock came fast and hard, as those words settled into his mind, losing his balance, dropping Kirk's hip with one hand, and collapsing into a rather uncomfortable shuddering and panting tangle of limbs. The burning in his blood had subsided to a faint electrical crackle, and he just needed to be touched -- as much of his skin as possible, as soon as possible. Awkwardly, he rolled over, pulling his mate with him, trying to stay inside for just a little longer.
"Jim, I need you. Touch me -- anywhere -- everywhere." His hands roamed over Kirk's body, revelling in the sensations of sweat-soaked skin, as his mate -- he didn't dare think lover, for there was no love in it -- stretched out over him, still grinding between his softening erection and his pelvic arch.
"Don't you tell me there's no love in this, asshole," Kirk muttered into his ear, breaths coming shorter as his cock slid across Spock's sweat-slicked skin. "I have spent my time pushing every button you have, for the good of my crew and my ship. I know what you are, now. And I know what you will become. Don't you even start to think I don't love you."
My mate, Spock insisted, through the bond, writhing in ecstatic bliss at the feel of Jim's skin against his own. Somewhere, in all of this, his captain had very definitely become Jim, in his mind.
"Your lover, you intractable Vulcan jackass." Jim slapped him upside the head. "And don't you forget it."
And that was when Jim finally came, panting and cursing, riding it out against the hot Vulcan flesh beneath him. He begged for mercy as Spock moved to roll them over again, and Spock consented to play nice, as long as Jim kept both hands on his skin.
The end tally was three days, before either of them left the room, and another day before either was fit for duty. Kirk whispered filthy secrets of Vulcan anatomy to Bones every time they passed in the halls, for weeks afterward, and Spock looked unconscionably smug. McCoy didn't want to know any of it, a fact he made exceedingly clear every time he heard more. This was, he decided, the last time he was doing a favour for a Vulcan.