Naughty or nice, prompt #3 for christmas advent on tumblr. Bit late due to a horrible cold ~ Lady Talla-Doe


Hot breath washed up the shell of his ear, the strong hand between his shoulder blades pushing him firmer against the wall as teeth sank into the corded line of his neck, worrying it just shy of painfully as Jim was shoved hard, forcing him the last few inches until he was flush to the bulkhead of his shadowed guest quarters.

Wet heat, as a stripe a licked up the back of his neck. Jim Leaned into it with a grunt of surprise, hand brace on the wall on either side of his shoulder, still prepared to push away and attack if he needed to. A strong leg shoved between his, hot even through the thick material of standard issue Starfleet uniform.

"Spock, hold up just a second-" He struggled for a moment to wrap his head around what was happening, but Spock simply ignored him, pulling the material of his black undershirt to the side to bare more of his neck. Another sharp, surprising burst of pain accompanied the bite, only to be soothed by the heat of his mouth, and lathing tongue. Jim jerked against the wall, slamming his palms against hit hard as he swore, feeling the Vulcan's teeth coming within moments of breaking his skin.

In the dark, the only thing he could perceive was the slight gleam reflecting off the bulkhead from the simulated 'natural' nightlight, breaking their forms into soft greys and harsh shadows. He heard Spock's breath and his own, the chafe of fabric against fabric, and the soft, wet noises his First In Command's mouth made every time it came loose of his skin. The steady thump, the deep base pulse that kept beat was his own heartbeat, keeping time and speeding up with each of his touches, until Jim could taste it at the back of his throat.

"Tor vu fai-tor ra vu tor to me, Jim?" Spock murmured softly against his damp skin, and the hands that had been holding him still moved to his sides, stroking down his ribs in a firm caress. Kisses replaces bites, as Spock's hands moved under his shirt, lifting it up his ribs. He stroked firmly every rib he found, speaking into Jim's flesh as he caged his body with his own.

"I am bes-tor tovu. Vag;u' a moth to a yai. Vu ras-tukh rivak shai. Such tash-tor is ri tor-yehat." And the exotic syllables filled his ears, swimming in his mind until the seemed to spill over into his blood, filling him up from the inside. Vulcan, his brain whispered, sounded as dazed as he was feeling, but he couldn't translate it right then. Something about being drawn, a moth to a flame. Jim tempting him.

His breathe seemed to be coming funny, caught up in his chest in a stutter. Spock wasn't even doing anything, just whispering, stroking his skin, seeming intent on keeping him there long enough to say his piece. More beautiful words he couldn't appreciate right then, things in a language most people couldn't understand, flowing past lips that had kissed his skin, a tongue that had licked his flesh. Teeth that had marked him.

"Kal-tor shai. Kal-tor shair. Vahl shai, Jim. I istaya vu herbosh-hi konli-sanosh. Kal-tor shai nam-tor vu t'hai'lasa-telsu eh nam-tor elik t' aifa meskarau-pla'dor. Sanoi, Jim."

Some of the words were filtering through, filtering in, making it to his brain before they filled his blood. Words like friend, and please, and pleasure-happiness, strange in its syntax but sincere in its tone. Spock's nose traces its way down his throat, as Jim's fingers curled against the warming metal, feeling each of the Vulcan's breathes, their bodies so close that they moved with each inhale and exhale. Pleasure curled all along bones, warmth like sand across his skin, but his blood was filled with words, filled with voices, plurals of Spock's and all he could hear was his words, over and over.

Let me. Allow me. Grant me, Jim. I wish nothing but your pleasure-happiness. Let me be your friend-husband-beloved and be rid of this restraint. Please Jim.

"...yes." God, yes. And in that frozen world between the word leaving his lips, between the song in his blood and the words in his head, everything was silent. And for the first time Jim could hear Spock's heart beat.

He was jerked around, hard enough to bruise his ribs, spun in the spot but he couldn't care. His hands were fisting Spock's uniform, adding marks of his own, and there'd be time for that, plenty of time for that later, but now there was only one thing left unsaid.

"Shai ashau vu." He growled before he bit his lip, just this side of bleeding.

I love you.


. .



. .


first line of Vulcan (Spock): "Do you know what you do to me?"

second line of Vulcan(Spock): "I am drawn to you. As a moth to a flame. You tempt me. Such restraint is impossible."

third line of Vulcan (Spock): "Let me. Allow me. Grant me, Jim. I wish you nothing but pleasure/happiness. Let me be your friend/beloved-husband* and be rid of this restraint. Please Jim." fourth line of Vulcan (Jim): "I love you." * Husband is sa-telsu, a competely different word from T'hai'la, I've combined them since Vulcan lacks a true translation for 'beloved', the closest being t'hai'la which isn't strictly what Spock wants. He wants to wed him too. ~ Lady Talla-Doe