This is the result of what happens when I spend an entire morning with a cold watching Spirk vids on my laptop, and then attempt to write something whilst listening to Nine Inch Nails (which probably explains all the… well, you know)

So this is quite, quite M. Just sayin' *sheepish grin*

(also, don't you love the word "sheepish"?)

That Boy Is a Monster (He Ate My Heart) – by The Problematique

"If you say 'That is illogical, Captain' one more time, I am going to punch you in the face.


I swear, Commander, I'll hit you so hard you'll see double.

No, don't look at me like that, if that's what it takes to get you to finally shut the fuck up, I'll do it.

You don't think I will?

I've had it, you hear me? I can, eventually, cave too. I'll hit you and yeah, it's probably gonna mess up your perfect haircut when I yank it down so that pretty face of yours slams against the wall… don't look so surprised, Mr Spock, do you think I won't do it?

I know exactly where the bruises will hurt the most, and I'm also gonna pull your ears, always wanted to do that for some reason, I figure here's my chance. And sink my teeth into one until you bleed in my mouth.

I think by this time you'll be trying to fight me, but maybe if I shove you against my desk and you feel something hard against your back you might be surprised enough that I'll get to rip off your shirt. Yeah, always wanted to do that too, does it scare you?

Does it turn you on?

And don't worry, I'll make sure my nails dig deep into your skin, so hard they'll cut through and you'll bleed in my hands and then those marks on you will belong to me. Only me.

Which is probably when you'll turn around with that look in your eye that always tells me exactly what you're going to do, yes, I always know, Spock, you can't hide anything from me.

You'll probably jump on me so we crash onto the floor and since you're so freakishly strong you'll be able to pin me down and get a few good hits, maybe even wrap those long slender fingers around my neck? And hold tight, choking, gripping hard so I can't breathe, so I can't see, until you choose to release me and snarl with anger, or is it frustration? 'Cause I know you'll want to finish the job, I can see the violence in your eyes and the way you're having to work to stop yourself.

Even now, isn't that right, Spock? Even now you want to… you know you want to…

And this plays right into my hands because while you just lookat me like that I'll bite your lip, deep, until I taste blood again, I can make you sweat to keep yourself under control, and it's revenge for the blinding pain making me cough and blink and see stars, you sick fuck, you and your fucking addictive presence that makes me want and your cruel eyes that mock me when I'm already so pathetically, ridiculously, unhealthily obsessed with your every fucking move. Well that ends now, all right?

After you bleed I'll show just exactly how much I want you, bet you've never felt a hot wet mouth on your dick before. I'll make you pay for driving me insane by being as much of a fucking tease as I can, slow, painful, until I see a tear in your eye and your fingers in my hair are tugging too hard, until you thrust into my mouth because you can't help yourself anymore. And by then you'll be so damn furious you'll throw me against the table, so hard and strong you'll knock the breath out of me and I'll know there's going to be more bruises there tomorrow, but to think about anything but your anger and now would be wrong, so we won't, neither of us will.

And I probably won't care much about bruises either way since you'll strip off my pants in your rage and I'll say 'Fuck yes' and you might snap and bite my neck and hiss 'Be quiet', and of course I won't do that, 'cause I love being disobedient, and how the hell am I supposed to keep quiet when you're doing that to me?

And you won't bother with fingers, will you? You'll just take me, hard, so that tomorrow I'll still hurt but I won't care about that either, the feeling of you inside will be too much to care about anything, anything but you, and fuck, how good you'll feel, so goddamn good I might just shout your name, and when you come inside me I'll come too, somehow lost in the ecstatic shock but still feeling your hands around my waist, yeah, those large hot hands so warm and strong, fingers gripping flesh as you convulse in me, and over me, all around me.

You'll kiss my neck, then my shoulderblades and my back, with deliberate sweetness, soft, feather-light, cruel, cruel mean sweet thrills that make me want to cry and say stupid things that I can never, ever tell you.

So by the end we'll be sweating and panting with everything and we'll both be covered in red blood and green blood and I'll covered in you, your arms and your chest and legs entangled and all of you and all of me wrapped together, except you won't be angry anymore and neither will I."

The silence after he stopped talking was deafening.

There was a very, very long pause. An infinite, everlasting moment when Jim was breathing heavy and Spock's eyes heated to burning.

And, finally…

"That is illogical, Captain." Spock said in a rather hoarse voice, the gleam in his eye somwhere between predatory and playful.

The corners of Jim's mouth curved upwards but the gesture was too daring, too wild, too feral and blinding to actually be called a smile.

"Okay, then."

His prediction turned out to be disturbingly accurate.

Yay! for another title I have fallen in love with (stolen from a Gaga songto my INTENSE embarrassment, oh well).

Candy!Reviews are candy? Have I overused that simile yet? Let me know!

Is it working? I can't tell if it's working yet! *shakes fist, and wishes for time-machine*

*oh wait, realises that with time-machine one could travel to 2012 and watch the new Star Trek: Something Something Movie*

*shakes fist some more,energetically*