Spock x Kirk Commission
Meditation. The subtle but soothing memory-scent of Favinit plants, flowers native to his only recently destroyed homeland, flowers that would never grow again. Spock frowned. Meditation. The expansion of each inhale, the compression of each exhale, both methodical and timed, lowering his heart rate into a perfect balance with the rest of his system. Meditation. While hardly a productive use of his time aboard the Starship Enterprise, it seemed to be one of the few things at present capable of calming the inner turmoil of his lineage. Spock frowned again.
Pon Farr. It was logical by evolution's standards, a means of prolonging an otherwise intimately reserved species. But to occur while mid mission in the deepest throes of space was completely and utterly illogical. Not to mention unbeneficial. So Spock resigned himself to meditation. But as his biologically infused date grew nearer, it became evidently more obvious that meditation soon would no longer be enough. In fact, if he didn't find a substantial alternative soon, it would be the very literal death of him. Spock frowned once more. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
"Mr. Spock!" The call was followed by an even more persistent knock on the door to his quarters. Spock recognized the voice at once, getting to his feet with an internal sigh and a conscious external reversion to expressionlessness. Swallowing back the feelings that no Vulcan should harbor, he let the door slide open a crack.
"Can I help you, Captain?" He said, tone stoic. Kirk gave him a quizzical look, lightly putting a hand on the edge of the door as though afraid Spock would force it to slam in his face. Trying not to look pleased at the thought, Spock saved him the effort and opened the door more completely.
Nearly falling over at the sudden lack of support, Kirk buried that hand in his pocket, using the other to scratch absently at the back of his neck. "Word's been going around that you're not feeling well?"
Spock stared at the captain, letting his head fall to a slight tilt, as though in a confusion he did not possess. "The concept is uncommon," he said simply by way of aversion. "My species is known for its impeccable immune system. I am quite well."
"Quite," Kirk repeated in that same suspicious manner that had been the source of Spock's un-Vulcan-like aggravation on more than one occasion. Even more so, it seemed, with the threat of Pon Farr within reach. "Then, care to explain why you up and left the bridge this morning in a huff?"
"My reasons for leaving the bridge are my own," Spock started, realized the annoyance seeping into his voice, and tried again. "No huff was intended, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me." He made to take a step back into his quarters, allowing the door to begin sliding closed, but Kirk wouldn't have it, slipping inside and grabbing at Spock's arm while there was still space enough to do so.
"Hold on a second, will you?" Kirk started, but Spock was already lost.
An empathetic bond. That was all that Pon Farr required. And somehow, one existed beneath Kirk's skin, a bond he himself hadn't put there but rather himself from a future no longer available to him. It thrummed beneath his touch, an unavoidable, intoxicating energy that Spock found himself quite literally unable to resist. The very basic, very unfortunate need within him suddenly had Spock gripping Kirk's collar with his free hand and pulling him in for a messy, unexpected kiss, the situation made even more awkward by the obvious erection he was mortifyingly sporting. Expectedly, it was Kirk that broke contact first, eyes widening as he opened his mouth to speak. Thankfully, at that precise moment, a modicum of Spock's control began to return, enough for him to take a few shaky steps towards the door.
"My… sincerest apologies," Spock panted, not willing to look his Captain in the eye. He had no desire to see what was sure to be a vast array of confusion, anger and disgust on that face that knew no emotional control. "I will be…" He turned around. There was nowhere he wanted to be, needed to be, but here, with Kirk, continuing what he'd started. Which meant he owed the Captain to be somewhere else right now. Anywhere else. "I will be available if you need me. Feel free to let yourself out." And with that, Spock walked out of his quarters, letting the door close between them.
Not for the first time, Spock considered bringing up his… situation with Chief Medical Officer McCoy. Perhaps there was a drug that could give him more time to consider an effective plan of action. But like all those times before it, he found himself unable. He knew what he needed. He had been aware of the protocol since adulthood. But what he hadn't planned for was the distance that Starfleet would put between him and his "quick fix" as some humans tended to refer to it. Without a planet, and with a colony too far to warp to mid mission, Spock was left balancing death with humiliation, a decision far less simplistic than he would have given thought to otherwise. It seemed that Kirk fit the qualifications to satisfy his physical needs, but to address such a thing was not only unorthodox, but outrageous. James T. Kirk would never adhere to such an act, especially with Spock… even if it meant his death.
Which wasn't true, and he knew it. Kirk was cocky and extravagant and flamboyant but also kind and sacrificing. If it meant saving his First Officer's life, the life of his friend, as equally as outrageous as that notion still seemed, Kirk would abide. Spock just wished that it wouldn't have to come to that.
"Mr. Spock!" Kirk's voice came barreling down the corridor, followed shortly by his personage, the man running after him. Chasing him down. Spock froze. "Mr. Spock, wait!" Spock kept a firm posture as the Captain approached, attempting to catch his breath before speaking. "What the hell was that?" He said at last. Spock was certain there was a horrifying green blush to his cheeks, but he showed no sign of embarrassment on his face.
"Again, Captain. My sincerest-"
"Yeah, yeah, Spock. You're sorry for kissing me. Whatever." Kirk waved him away. "But why the hell did you kiss me in the first place?"
The corridor was suddenly too public for his taste, Spock turning to lead Kirk towards an unoccupied holo deck. But when Kirk made to pull him back, Spock stopped, holding up a shaking hand to block his attempt. "I request that you refrain from touching me until I can properly… explain." Spock offered him before walking on, knowing Kirk would follow, if not hesitantly. This holo deck had yet to be programmed, the walls white and blank, the door closing behind them, locking them inside. Spock wasted no time.
"Are you familiar with the Vulcan practice of Pon Farr?" Kirk raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head, leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed. Spock went on. "It is a ritual performed every seven years. Without completion… Let us just say the results are fatal."
Kirk nodded slowly. "And that's what's going on with you? This… Pon Farr thing?" Spock nodded once, stiffly. "Okay. So then how does it work? How do we fix you?" Again, Spock had to look away, his emotions to unrestrained, his blood running hot at the thought of what it would take to "fix him."
"Pon Farr is our mating ritual. Of sorts." Spock continued, Kirk going uncharacteristically quiet. "It requires another member of my race or someone with whom I have shared an empathetic bond." Spock looked over his shoulder at the Captain, a look of confusion, followed shortly by a shaky realization crossing his face.
"I'm assuming I'm the only one on the ship who fits the bill then," Kirk voiced what Spock had been too ashamed to admit out loud. The amount of calm in his voice was surprising.
"That is correct." Spock replied.
"And that kiss before," Kirk went on. "That was because I touched you."
"Also correct." Spock looked away again, wondering how long the Captain would take to refuse him. Or accept him reluctantly, as Spock assumed he would. But Kirk just continued on with another question.
"And if I touched you again?" He whispered, voice much closer than it was before, not waiting for an answer before running a hand down Spock's arm, the touch electrifying and intense, filling Spock with so much untapped desire it practically drowned him. Spock barely managed to share a bewildered look with his Captain before pulling him in for another kiss as messy and desperate as the first, one that was all teeth and tongue and Spock could taste the bond in him, could feel himself in every inch of Kirk. But it wasn't enough. He needed more, he needed closer, deeper. Finally succumbing to the maddening whims of Pon Farr left him hungry, and all he felt, all he saw, all he knew was that Kirk was there to satisfy those needs.
Pushing the man up against the unnaturally white wall of the holo deck, Spock kissed down Kirk's jaw to his neck, biting almost harshly as he took that opportunity to pull Kirk's uniform shirt over his head. The Captain's shirt. But that didn't exist to Spock right now, not when Kirk was shirtless and panting against him, Spock's hands moving of their own volition over his stomach and arms and chest, letting his thumbs worry circles over Kirk's nipples. The man groaned, slipping a hand beneath Spock's shirt as well, the feeling of that bare touch like igniting red matter at his core. Spock grabbed his hand, struggling to focus eyes cloudy with a lust he'd never even experienced with Lieutenant Uhura.
"Your reciprocation is unnecessary," He said, voice hoarse, but Kirk just chuckled breathily, pulling his hand away to undo Spock's belt.
"Not on my planet."
Spock stared at him for a moment, stunned, before nodding in agreement. Sometimes the concepts of human nature befuddled him. Right now, though, it was less than important, Spock ripping off his own shirt and undoing his pants, kissing Kirk deeply, tongue running along the roof of Kirk's mouth, making him shiver. Spock wanted Kirk to keep trembling beneath him, to keep making those soft, barely contained noises of arousal, to beg to be taken. But it wasn't his place to want such things, not when Kirk was sacrificing his own desires and orientation to be here right now. It would be unfair of him to demand any more than that, or do any less than simply insuring the Captain did not need leave here unsatisfied. So, without much warning, Spock undid Kirk's pants and slid a hand past the waistband of his boxers, touch sensitive fingers wrapping around the very human heat of Kirk's cock.
Kirk arched into his touch, eyes half closed as he grit his teeth against what Spock could feel was a sudden onslaught of arousal, the man hardening almost completely under Spock's rhythmic strokes, rocking his hips into Spock's hand. It was a sight that left Spock breathless. Surely it was no more than the bond they shared, but it seemed as though Kirk was just as involved in this, just as desperate and eager and yearning for release. So Spock wasted no time, pulling Kirk to the ground and removing his boxers, taking a moment or two to prod a finger at a time into the tight ring of muscle in the cleft of his ass, stretching him out, readying him whether he genuinely wanted to or not. Fingers gliding over a bundle of nerves made Kirk flinch, dick jerking in Spock's other hand. That was all he could stand, Spock so hard it was painful, fire coursing through his veins. Spitting into his palm to coat his own arousal for easier entry, Spock aligned himself with his Captain, putting a hand beneath Kirk's knee to brace himself as he buried his length to the hilt in the man's trembling form.
Things almost literally blipped out of existence in that moment, Spock panting heavily, heart racing fast enough to be heard by the pounding of blood in his ears. Kirk's overwhelming tightness, the feel of his fingers gripping Spock's arm to the point where it might have been painful were he anything more than human, the sound of Kirk's whispered string of curses as he waited to adjust, the sight of him attempting to do so, head thrown back against the floor, lips moving over clenched teeth, a thin sheen of sweat along his brow. It made Spock's heart stutter, the sensations of attraction no doubt multiplied by the demands of Pon Farr, but still, it made Spock reach out towards the man's face, running careful fingers along his cheek, Kirk looking up at him in confusion. Gently, Spock helped Kirk sit up, kissing him the moment that distance was relieved, a simple brush of lips against lips, Spock inhaling the smell of him.
"Move." Kirk's word vibrated between them, in them, around them, Spock abiding at once, rocking his hips slowly at first before lowering Kirk back to the floor and pounding into him more purposefully. Kirk threw his head back so hard, Spock was sure he'd been wounded, but he couldn't seem to find the ability to pause his thrusting to ask. Not when everything had just become that much clearer, the promise of release so close for them both that he could taste it, hear it, see it. But Kirk wasn't as close, so Spock wrapped a hand around his neglected member once more, stroking out a rhythm to match the brutal pounding of his cock into Kirk's ass. That was all it took, it seemed, Kirk's back arching almost completely off the floor as he came into Spock's hand, the impossible tightening of his body around Spock's need wrenching him into oblivion a mere seconds later. Spock heard a growl escape through his teeth in a way that was neither human nor Vulcan in manner as he emptied himself into his Captain's still trembling form. For a moment, they just lay there, letting the aftershocks echo between their bond in a blissful glow, but soon that glow began to fade.
The rush of Pon Farr wearing off left only the mess of their situation. Not wanting to further injure the man, but not wanting to force him to continue this façade of mutual desire any longer, Spock let his breathing normalize and carefully pulled out. Kirk offered a disapproving grunt but no more, still panting even as he reached lazily for his undershirt to clean away the evidence of their affair. The next few minute were spent in mutual silence, cleaning up the holo deck and redressing themselves in a way that would give off no sign of what had occurred. Surprisingly enough, Kirk was at the door first, looking, even without his undershirt, as though he had been doing anything but getting fucked in the ass by his Vulcan First Officer. Perhaps it was what Spock had heard was "substantial training" during his years at the academy. A training that had been assumedly unrelated to his progress at Starfleet.
Spock took a breath as the Captain fixed a crooked sleeve. "It would be unwise to allow this moment to affect our performance on the Enterprise." He started. "And while I am grateful for your sacrifice, I feel that this-"
"So this Pon Farr thing only happens once every seven years, right?" Kirk cut him off, eyes still locked on the sleeve of his shirt, fingers working away at straightening the hem as though they were talking about flight coordinates rather than the sexual natures of his race. Spock nodded.
"Hm," Kirk huffed, giving the sleeve one more look before dropping his arm and opening the holo deck door. He gave Spock a once over that sent a spark straight up his spine. "Too bad." And with nothing more on the matter, Kirk offered him a grin and left, Spock standing there in what could only be described as very un-Vulcan-like shock.