Finally, chapter 5! or, Spock Gets Into a Fight With a Clue-By-Four.

Adfkfgjadfjg, I keep making y'all wait. But you've been so supportive with the reviews; thank you so much!!

Also, apparently the ice-beast is called a Hengruggi (or something like that). Why was this not available information when I started writing this thing??


Itia Monstrum


And then Spock's thoughts were derailed by a warm breath on his ear; followed by damp heat surrounding the tip, and sharp teeth nibbling gently on the edges. A silent gasp escaped Spock's throat, his lips just barely falling open in a soundless breath at the reaction that thrilled through him at those sensations and textures. Not to mention the swirling emotion transmitted through the touch – burning, driving lust, and fiery possessiveness, but also a dominating tenderness and affection 0 and something deep within them all that Spock could not just yet identify and that moved to just outside his comprehension. The potent combination of those all served to render the Vulcan essentially immobile for a time, and when he finally returned to his own mind, Spock found himself laid out on the silky duvet of the bed with Jim sprawled all along the length of him.

It was disconcerting, for a moment, to take into full account the new physical changes in his Captain. Spock had been aware, distantly, of the obvious differences, such as the Captain's growth spurt, and his speed, but to truly acknowledge that his Captain was now, essentially, bigger than he himself... It was almost disturbing to be smaller than a man who was biologically more fragile, regardless of strength or speed.

His mind briefly cleared, Spock made a motion as if to dislodge the Captain – only to find himself pressed down into the bed. A disgruntled noise escaped the Vulcan's throat, and his hands quickly came up towards Jim's shoulders, ready to grasp them and physically force the two of them apart.

Once again, though, Spock found himself at the mercy of Jim's 'improvements' as the Captain snagged Spock's wrists and pinned them, over Spock's head, to the bed. Jim raised his head form where he had been mouthing Spock's neck, and smirked at the pinned Vulcan.

"Now that wouldn't be any fun," Jim all but purred. "Can't have you running away!"

"Captain – "

And Jim cut Spock off with the soft press of lips to lips, the kiss beginning chaste and gentle and rapidly growing to mess of possession and resistance; tender dominance and a refusal to submit. Spock did not think to break the kiss at first, surprised by the contact – and his own reaction to it. His belly tightened, low in his abdomen, and he could feel his own heart rate pick up (4.63485%, he calculated absently). It was when Jim growled into his mouth that Spock returned once more to his senses, and he wrenched his face to the side, breathing slightly heavier than normal.

Jim, though, was not deterred. He simply moved on to other places, his mouth trailing over the arch of Spock's cheek to the small dip just before Spock's ear, along the line of his jaw, down the length of his throat... Spock struggled again though his movements were somewhat less coordinated or as strong as they had been previously.

Could it be possible that whatever had been given to Jim was able to be passed along by skin to skin contact? If so, it could explain the odd lethargy stealing along Spock's limbs (though he did resist; his Captain needed help, not acquiescence). However, it also made it all the more imperative that Spock reach medical personnel in order to gain aid for them both.

And yet, once more were Spock's thoughts derailed. This time by the large, warm hand creeping under his shirts, brushing over the flesh of his stomach with roughly calloused skin (though the calluses were just barely starting to soften from months spent in space), and the sudden influx of Jim's emotions.

It was as the hand began to drag upwards, taking Spock's shirt with it, that he began to protest and finally managed to get his wrists free from Jim's grasp. Jim reacted instantly, grabbing Spock's wrists before they could reach his shoulders, and slammed them back against the bed. Spock tried bucking his hips next, twisting his entire body in an attempt to throw Jim off of him, but Jim anticipated every move and countered them, keeping himself firmly on top of the struggling Vulcan.

Finally, with a growl, Jim transferred both of Spock's wrists to his left hand (furthering reinforcing to Spock the fact that Jim truly was stronger), reached down with his right hand, and yanked at the collar of Spock's shirt, ripping the garment easily. The blue fabric fluttered to Spock's sides, revealing the pale, faintly green-tinged skin beneath. Jim stared down at the chest now bared to him, and Spock felt the undeniable urge to squirm and somehow cover himself – and not just because his Captain was under the influence of something.

"God, Spock, you're gorgeous," Jim let out on a moan, the desire in his eyes brightening further until he seemed to have coals housed in his eye sockets, glowing the bright blue of the hottest flames. Spock had no time to reply before Jim had swooped down upon one olive nipple, tongue darting out to flick-flick-flick over it, back and forth, drawing it up into a hard nub of sensation that left Spock strangely breathless. And more breath that Spock did not have in his lungs was forced from him as Jim's mouth closed over that same nipple, moist heat sucking just one shade light of painful, teeth barely grazing that sensitive flesh.

"Fuck, you smell so good," Jim panted, the hot breath from his mouth wafting over the damp, now highly sensitized skin. He licked once at Spock's nipple again, and the Vulcan felt himself involuntarily arch into the touch, just the slightest bit – and repeated the motion again as Jim switched over to the other, as yet unattended nipple and repeated his actions.

As Jim's mouth busied itself, his free hand wandered the rest of the landscape of Spock's torso, drawing absent-minded shapes upon the flat planes of his pectorals, moving down to circle on the slight ridges of his abdomen. Soft human fingers gently feathered over Spock's lower stomach, and the skin there beneath those fingers trembled, just slightly. Jim's fingers moved towards the slight protrusions of Spock's hipbones, gliding over them and stroking before moving back to his lower stomach. There was a pause of several moments, as Jim's hand continued to gently stroke Spock there and his mouth moved easily across his upper torso.

Then Jim's hand began to snake under the waistband of Spock's regulation-issue trousers, fingers fluttering against even more sensitive skin.

Spock arched upwards, and Jim lifted his head from where it had busied itself again with the Vulcan's nipples to grin victoriously down at the man held beneath him.

"Thought you'd like that," Jim murmured, and there was something animalistic to the words and the tone, yet a thread of tenderness and care worked their ways into his voice, as well. "Come on, Spock, just let go – I'll make it so good for you."

And Jim bent his head, mouthing along Spock's neck now, and the emotions and thoughts that had been feeding into Spock's mind had him in something of a frenzy now, torn between giving in to this whirlwind that was Jim Kirk, and holding out to get the help his Captain needed. Though he would hardly admit it, Spock felt the very fringes of panic beat away at the back of his mind – panic that he could not help his Captain, and panic that part of his did not want to help the Captain, but instead wanted this madness to continue. There was a small, deep well of shame in Spock's center that he could feel himself loosening, becoming warm and soft and damp and pliant under Jim's ministrations. And that only added to Spock's panic; he had never yet found someone who would make this special aspect of his biology activate.

So why now? Why his Captain, why Jim?

And why like this?

"Spock, stop fighting me."

Jim's voice broke through Spock's thoughts, brought him back to the present situation. Darkening brown eyes stared up at burning blue eyes, eyes that were both devouring him and trying to comfort him – such a dichotomous attempt...

"Don't fight me, Spock," Jim repeated. "I'm not going to hurt you."

And Jim's grasp on Spock's wrists weakened, and Spock took advantage of that fact – and the tenderness in his Captain's eyes.

He shoved at his Captain with his whole body, finally managing to knock him off and free his arms, and when Jim came right back towards him, Spock swung one fist. He had to do this, he had to get help for his Captain, and then try to figure out why he himself was reacting this way...

Jim caught his fist in one palm, and used that to swiftly tug Spock towards him and back down onto the bed, once more rolling on top of the Vulcan. Only this time, Jim pulled Spock's arms downward, towards his hips, and then Jim planted his knees on Spock's forearms, preventing him form lifting them.

With a determined look on his face, Jim reached for his belt. He unlooped it quickly, easily, and then in a quick motion freed Spock's wrists, grabbed them in one hand as Spock raised them to once more attempt escape, and then Jim bound them in the thick leather of his belt. He took the free end of the belt and looped it around one of the stone slats of the bed's headboard.

"I told you not to fight me, Spock. I just wanted you to relax," Jim said, still perched on Spock's torso.

Spock tugged his wrists, but apparently his strength had deserted him as he was unable to free himself.

"Captain – " Spock began, attempting keep his voice calm and even though he could feel conflicting emotions swirling inside his gut – and oh, how it pricked his Vulcan pride to have to admit to this state affairs – only to be interrupted by a low growl.


Spock was silent for several moments, attempting to get his heartbeat and respiratory rate back under control.

"Jim," the Vulcan said quietly, looking up at his Captain. "Jim, please – "

But the Vulcan did not know, in that moment, what he wanted Jim to do. Jim, his Captain, his friend, who was currently out of his mind and straddling Spock's waist. Spock could feel Jim's erection through their clothes, pressing against his pelvis.

Jim looked down at his captive first officer, reaching out with one hand to gently trace Spock's cheek.

"Just relax, Spock." The Vulcan did not reply, but only maintained eye contact. Jim smiled, the corners of lips twitching crookedly. "I can help you relax. It'll be good Spock, I promise."

With those words hanging heavy in the air, Jim slid backwards off of Spock's pelvis, hooking his hands in the waistband of the other's trousers and dragging the pants slowly downwards, taking the regulation briefs off, as well. Spock felt the low burn of shame and embarrassment as his erection was freed from its cloth confines, standing straight and proud, harder than he had ever been before (but he did not want this, not like this, not like this – did he?).

"Cap - " Spock began, but Jim shot him a look, and the Vulcan swallowed, amending his words, "Jim - "

"Shhh, Spock," Jim said gently, but somehow managing to sound commanding and possessive as he reached up to place one finger over Spock's lips. "Don't say anything. Just feel." Jim had yet to take his eyes off the glorious green cock before him, lust heightening in his eyes until they darkened, pupils expanding to the edges of his irises in desire.

"God, Spock, you're gorgeous," he murmured before dipping down to take the head of him in his mouth. Spock's mouth fell open, soundless, as heat-cool-damp engulfed his most sensitive flesh. He should resist, this could not be happening, no, his Captain – his friend – his Jim -

Around him, Jim smiled, humming happily, and Spock's thoughts stuttered to a halt at the vibration, inhaling sharply as his wrists flexed in their bindings (but was he trying to escape? or would he hold that glorious, golden head closer still to him, see how deep he could go?). Spock could not look away from the human, could not tear his eyes from the somehow blisteringly erotic scene playing out before him – but oh, how he tried.

Jim, nestled between the pale, pale thighs, head bobbing contentedly as that wicked mouth hummed, as the cheeks hollowed out with the suction, as his tongue flicked torturously over hot, hot skin…

Spock felt another wet rush of heat flow through him, pooling and trickling down his thighs – it would be impossible, now, for Jim not to notice this, and Spock could not decide, in the far, far reaches of the (barely) working part of his mind, whether he was feeling shame or anticipation.



Will the two of them finally get on with it and stop teasing us?

Find out next episode! Same channel, same time!

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