The Heat of Love (Kirk/Spock)
Title: The Heat of Love
Summary: Jim can’t understand the weight of the heat he has started feeling around his First Officer...
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4925
AN: Credit for the title goes to my friend. She commented on multiple parts while I was writing and she really helped me out<3
Jim can’t understand the weight of the heat he has started feeling around his First Officer. He knows it’s not coming from within himself, considering it feels almost scalding whenever their hands come close to touching. He also feels a strange buzzing at the edges of his mind that intensifies depending on how close Spock gets to him. It makes him feel dazed and settles a loneliness deep in his heart and Jim really, really needs to understand.
Barely a day and a half goes by after the heat appears before Spock refuses to make the slightest contact with anyone. He keeps a safe distance from everyone -which by the Vulcan’s standards means a minimum of six feet- and somehow manages to avoid the necessity of speaking to the rest of the crew.
Spock seems even colder than when they first came aboard the Enterprise, before the tentative friendship formed between them, before the Vulcan became more at ease with everyone.
Jim knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s surprised one morning when he arrives for Alpha Shift to see that Spock is nowhere to be found. A few minutes later, he gets a notice from Bones telling him that Spock is not cleared for work. The heat is mostly gone, but the buzzing isn’t, and Jim can’t concentrate because his mind is filled with various early memories pertaining to the Vulcan.
Spock’s bravery as he beamed down to his home planet while it was being destroyed by Nero, the tight sorrow that no one really noticed in his voice at the loss of his mother, the piercing emotional agony on his face as he admitted to his emotional compromise. The way that, when they were on the Romulan ship, Spock called him Jim and referred to Nyota, his girlfriend at the time, as Lt. Uhura. The way Spock had almost shyly suggested they play a game of chess, the way he easily and readily accepted Jim’s apology for the things he’d said.
Many other images flash through his mind, but the buzzing intensifies around midday and he finds himself unable to grasp them. Jim swivels his captain’s chair around and his body is assaulted by a heat that he’s convinced rivals that of the sun. His vision is hazy, but he sees Spock rush passed the open door that connects to the hallway. A bare few moments later, Jim’s mind and vision are clear apart from the light buzzing.
He feels bad about it, but Jim ignores everyone as he leaves hurriedly. He takes the opposite direction from Spock and feels the buzzing dull down until he almost doesn’t feel it. He stays so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize where he’s going until he finds himself standing in the middle of an almost empty cargo bay. His only company consists of four large crates.
For some reason, Jim climbs over them and curls into the space left between them and the wall. He presses his overheated skin to the cool metal wall with a sigh. He loses himself in his thoughts of Spock again, not fighting it in the least. He sees short, shiny black hair, the upward arch of eyebrows, the emotionless line of pink lips, the faint, pretty green tint to pale skin.
At first, Jim hadn’t noticed the major changes in his feelings towards the Vulcan, but he’s completely conscious of them now. They had spanned from mild dislike to admiration to friendship to slightly more than platonic love to actual love. He had managed to hide them unconsciously in the beginning, and once he’d figured it out, he became even better at it.
Despite all the time they spent together, the lower ranking crew members aboard the Enterprise had stopped speculating about their relationship, and Jim was happy because it would be better for the Vulcan in the long run. If no one spoke about it, then Spock wouldn’t analyze their friendship, wouldn’t have to risk becoming emotionally compromised.
It takes him a while, but as soon as Jim notices the tears running slowly down his cheeks he wipes his eyes and quickly vacates the cargo bay. He’s making his way through the halls with slow, considering steps when two ensigns rush passed, one with a heavily bleeding nose and the other with a bruise on his jaw and a split lip.
It takes him by surprise but he follows them quickly towards sickbay. He slips in behind them and watches as nurse Chapel helps them clean up and reset the ensign’s broken nose.
“Ensign Ericson,” Jim remembers on the spot, like a good captain. “What happened?” he demands.
“We were walking through the halls and saw Mr. Spock leaning against the wall. It looked like he was in pain, so we went over to see if he was okay. We asked him if anything was wrong and he attacked us, screaming that if he wasn’t okay he’d come see Dr. McCoy.”
“What?! Spock? My first officer Spock, the pointy-eared Vulcan? You’re sure?” Jim asks, mind reeling with the shock of the statement.
The two ensigns nod and Jim turns to leave sickbay. His head is fuzzy, but this time not from the incessant buzzing that is always there, even if minutely. Now it’s purely because of confusion. Spock isn’t one to become overly violent over just anything, so Jim knows instinctively that something big must be going on.
Jim enters his code and steps into his room. The heat deep inside doesn’t intensify, so he knows that Spock isn’t in his room just across their shared bathroom. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs at his shirt with the other, trying to cool down his skin. When that does nothing, he reaches back and turns the room temperature down, not caring how low it goes.
With a soft sigh at the slow relief, Jim moves off to his desk and sits down while entering a code into his communicator. After a few moments a familiar face pops up on the vid screen.
“Jim, old friend, it has been a while since our last conversation.” Spock Prime’s warm voice washes over him and he relaxes back into his large, soft chair.
“I’m sorry, we’ve been busy the past three months.”
“Three point seven four eight one, to be exact.”
“Just as precise as our time’s Spock.” Jim grins.
“As you have brought him up so soon,” Spock arches one eyebrow gracefully. “I take it this call is not just to catch up?”
“Sadly, I do have an ulterior motive, and you’ve guessed right that it’s about Spock. He’s been acting strangely, and today he even attacked two ensigns. I was wondering if you knew what could be wrong.” Jim sits forward in his seat, elbows on his desk and his chin resting on his clasped hands.
“Jim, might you know the age of my counterpart?” Spock Prime questions, expression thoughtful.
“Hmm.. Uh, I think his twenty-seventh birthday was a few months back. He didn’t tell anyone, but I found his date of birth in his medical file.”
“Then there is but one possibility. He is experiencing Pon Farr, though earlier than expected. It is an occurrence rarely spoken of outside our culture, and even within it, we make habit out of not openly discussing it with members not of our respective families. It is the Vulcan mating cycle.”
“Mating cycle?” Jim asks, eyes slightly wide as he leans even closer.
“Yes. Vulcan males go through Pon Farr once every seven years, during which they must have frequent intercourse with their chosen mate. If they are away, they must return to the planet as quickly as possible. Vulcan parents often create a mental link between their children so that when the time comes, the Pon Farr will be dealt with easily and, most times, the female will get pregnant during the days the cycle lasts.”
“Wait,” Jim starts, realization painting his face with worry. “In this universe, Vulcan is gone. Does that mean-?”
“Yes, Jim. The mate Amanda and Sarek chose for Spock, T’Pring, is dead.” Spock Prime’s face is serious, voice slightly raspy and eyes dark with repressed worry.
“Then what are we going to do? Can he just wait until it goes away?”
“No, Jim, he cannot. With Pon Farr comes the Plak Tow, the blood fever. The adrenaline levels increase into a constant flow, and the cycle also brings heightened emotions and lack of control. If he does not satiate the Plak Tow and mate with someone he has already created a mental bond with, he will inevitably die. It is my understanding that this bizarre behaviour has been going on for a few days at the least?”
“Yeah, about a week and a half. Why? Is that bad?” Jim straightens out of his slouch, eyes sharp and focused.
“Indeed it is. My counterpart is surely near the edge of death, refusing to mate with anyone amongst the Enterprise’s crew. He must think that no one on the ship has detailed knowledge of Pon Farr specifically.”
Jim slumps against the high back of his chair, tugging at his hair in a mix of worry and frustration. His mind is working a mile per second, more memories of his own Spock and some leftover from his meld with the elder Vulcan whirling around. He stares at the wall behind the vid screen, Spock’s own worried but patient face present in his peripheral vision.
A mass of images flash by in his mind but one is slow in passing, wrapped up in affection and warmth. He focuses on it and right away his mouth drops open in shock, though it is considerably less and lasts a shorter time than initially expected.
“You were mated to the James Kirk of your time, weren’t you?” Jim whispers, looking into Spock’s deep brown eyes, his own eyes brimming with tears as the memory replays in his head.
There’s the bridge of the Enterprise. An older version of Jim is sitting in his chair, Spock a few feet away. Sulu and Chekov are also at their posts, right up front and centered. Uhura isn’t too far behind the Captain’s chair, half turned away from her post. They’re all looking intently at the clock, waiting for the chime that will release them from the ship and push them into Shore Leave. Seconds before the bell chimes, Spock stands and, as he walks by him to the door, he lets two fingers brush over two of Jim’s.
“Affirmative. I do not wish to influence the course of this timeline, but in mine we were very much in love.” With that, Spock Prime’s lips curl upwards and the vid screen flickers slightly, black overtaking the expanse that was once occupied by the old but still gorgeous face.
A blistering heat rids the room completely of the cold Jim wants and he rises determinedly from his plush chair. He moves to the open doorway that leads into the bathroom and leans against the frame, gazing at the closed door on the other side thoughtfully. He shuffles over and presses his forehead to the hot wood.
He can hear Spock on the other side, pacing back and forth somewhere near the middle of his room. His feet thump dully on the thick carpet, the sound of his breathing loud even through the door. After a few minutes, Jim hears a pained groan and the barely there sound of Spock dropping onto the edge of his bed.
Jim takes a deep breath, slumping further against the door. He hears a sharp sound, rough fabric on smooth silk, and soft, hesitant footsteps moving towards the door. There’s the sound of a shaky breath and then an audible thud as Spock leans against the other side of the thick wood panel that only the bathroom doors are made of. Jim slowly slides his hand up, fingers trailing over the wooden surface, sound of his fingernails soft in the silence.
Laying his palm flat against the door, Jim feels the need to hold his breath, so he does. He waits, and then hears one of Spock’s hands copy the slow movement his own had, coming to rest in a position that Jim is sure mirrors exactly that of his own hand.
Jim exhales slowly, but his inhale stops short when he hears a few soft thumps up where his face is. He uses his considerable intelligence and memory of Spock Prime from Delta Vega to quickly figure out what’s going on just as Spock slowly coaxes their minds to melt into each other.
A subtle odour first overtakes his sense of smell. It’s the scent of a Vulcan fruit Spock Prime once had him taste, in which of the realities he could remember no more than its name, but he remembers that it’s purple, shaped like a banana and looks like a tomato on the inside and tastes vaguely like a carrot.
Colors like the tan California and red P.E.I beaches twirl across the black of his eyelids, mixing with the various shades of greens of the plants.
A soft sound like wind swirling through high dunes of loose sand fills his ears.
Jim opens his eyes, but not really, because the sight that meets him isn’t the dark wood of the door but a section of desert surrounded by purple fruit, wind rustling softly through the low plants and pushing bursts of sand up into the air. He’s looking at the destroyed planet of Vulcan.
Then there’s a whisper of his name and two hands on his waist, a face tucked into the side of his neck. A myriad of feelings come rushing at him as Spock loses control over the meld, pushing all the air from his lungs and making his knees buckle.
There’s passion, desperation, fury, admiration, pain, heat, so, so much heat and it surrounds him and burns along his nerves like wildfire.
Spock pulls away and Jim is forced back into reality as the door he’s leaning against is jerked open. He falls forward and finds himself pressed to Spock’s chest, hands gripping onto his already rumpled shirt to try to steady himself. His hand brushes against overheated Vulcan skin and the tenderness from the meld is completely gone, leaving only the Plak Tow.
Spock grabs Jim’s hip with one hand and pushes against his chest with the flat of the other, literally throwing him onto the bed with an ease that makes Jim shiver. Spock is on him in mere seconds, grabbing both of Jim’s hands in his left to pin them above his head and Jim feels the bones of his wrists grinding together as he tries to move them.
A hand fists in his hair and Jim’s head is pulled back. Spock ducks down and takes the collar of the black cotton undershirt between his teeth, releasing Jim’s hair and bringing the hand down. He tugs to the right with his teeth and to the left with his hand, tearing the shirt raggedly down the middle.
“Aw, Spock! That was my favo-“ Spock bites down hard around his left nipple and Jim is cut off by his own cry, pain and pleasure surging from his chest and hardening his cock.
Spock’s hand shoves its way down the front of his pants and that, paired with the sound of his satisfied growl and the inhuman heat of his skin, makes Jim buck up with a pleading moan.
The sound of ripping cloth fills the room as Spock tears Jim’s pants along the seam, dropping the tatters onto the floor beside the bed. Jim takes the opportunity to sit up, catching Spock’s mouth in a hard kiss that’s really little more than a smash of lips before he very efficiently tugs the Vulcan’s shirt up over his head.
Spock growls warningly and pushes Jim back down onto the bed with his left hand, resting the weight of his upper body on Jim’s chest as he works on ridding himself of his pants.
Jim struggles fruitlessly, wiggling half-heartedly under Spock’s effortlessly strong hand. He feels strangely like a four year old trying to overpower a body builder that can bench press 500 pounds.
Instead of making his belly tight with nervousness, the thought makes the front of his boxers wet with precome. He grinds upward, his cotton covered cock rubbing against the rough material and half open zip of Spock’s regulation black pants.
Spock lifts himself just barely off of Jim to tug his pants down to mid-thigh, huffing in irritation as he struggles with his one free hand. He rolls off the side of the bed and pulls the pants down in one fluid motion that reveals tight, stark white boxer-briefs that are part of the dress code.
Then they’re gone and Spock is on him again with one graceful pounce before Jim can fully appreciate the sight of his cock.
Spock makes quick work of Jim’s boxers -ridding him of them in the same manner as the pants that preceded them- and licks into his mouth hotly, tongue twisting and flicking against his own. Spock moves down then and sucks at Jim’s Adam’s apple.
“Spock, please…want you so bad…” Jim pants, writhing. “C’mon, fuck me!” he groans, fisting a hand in Spock’s hair to pull him up into a hot kiss.
The Vulcan pulls away abruptly and easily rolls Jim onto his belly in the middle of the bed. He pushes his upper body down against the sheets with one hand and pulls his ass high in the air by his hips with the other. His heart is racing in his side, blood burning like a supernova.
Jim gasps, gripping Spock’s pillow tight as he feels a long lap over his hole by a long, feline-rough tongue. His thighs quiver and he moans when the pointed tip of the hot muscle presses slightly into him, twisting languidly just inside him to loosen him up. Spock alternates between slow, gentle twists and quick, hard jabs of his tongue, hot tingles making Jim arch his back wantonly.
Spock gives one final, slow lick over the puckered, flushed hole and sits back. He brings up his hands and kneads at the round globes of Jim’s ass as he admires the view, listening to his Captain’s plaintive whine. He huffs out a heavy breath and moves back onto his knees, pressing himself bodily over Jim and licking at one exotically rounded ear.
Spock pushes against him insistently, head of his cock rubbing over Jim’s entrance but slipping down to nudge his sac almost painfully hard. He growls, chest rumbling as his frustration grows and grows until Jim manages to reach back and wrap his hand around his swollen, hot flesh. It’s hard to accomplish with Spock’s hips still jerking, but Jim finally lines him up right and cries out loudly when Spock shoves in to the hilt hard.
Spock smells the tears that well up in his eyes and forces himself to hold still, arms straining, eyes clenched shut tight as he pants. Jim buries his face in Spock’s already rumpled pillow, hands in tight fists around handfuls of it. His heart is hammering, body tight with pain, feeling like he’s being ripped apart at the seams. Spock is hot inside him, and that makes it only just bearable, because it’s Spock and the warmth is somewhat soothing.
He hears a small whine and then Spock is nuzzling Jim’s neck and rubbing his nose at the soft but sharp curve of his jaw. He feels the Vulcan’s worry seep through the other emotions already overtaking his mind and body. His shoulders dip and his arms shake at the relaxation of his muscles. Jim feels Spock’s shaky control slipping quickly, his mind once again becoming overwhelmed by the heat and passion and pure desperation.
Jim takes a deep breath, holding it then releasing it slowly. He arches his back and presses back against Spock, the stretch of himself around his First Officer not that painful anymore but not pleasurable yet and it gets a little farther away from it when Spock’s resolve breaks and he starts thrusting wildly, hands coming to pin Jim’s to the bed even as their fingers curl together.
Soon, though, the contact is all pleasure and all consuming, knocking that silly notion of pain away forcibly. Jim’s cock hardens fully once more and Spock groans at the heavy scent of human arousal and sweat that permeates the air, licking a wet trail up Jim’s neck to his ear and biting down once he gets to its rounded tip. Spock presses his nose to his hair and thrusts particularly hard, drawing a hoarse cry from Jim as the hot, delicious Vulcan cock assaults his prostate.
Jim slumps forward onto the bed as his arms give out from the impossibly intense euphoria, moaning and gasping and drooling on the pillow in a way that he would usually avoid. Spock huffs and tries to wrap his arm around Jim’s chest, but the slickness of sweat on his skin makes his arm slip up until it’s around his neck. Spock doesn’t seem to notice as he tugs Jim up, strong forearm pushing against his wind pipe and making it hard to breathe.
He pants hard and desperate as Spock holds him tight to his chest, hips jerking up and cock burying itself deeper and deeper until Jim actually stops breathing, black seeping over his blurred vision and lungs aching, but still fully aroused. That’s when Spock notices, when he feels Jim’s mind fading away slowly but surely. He loosens his arm but thrusts harder, the force of it throwing Jim back onto the bed, bracing himself on his forearms.
“Oh god..” Jim rasps, feeling his belly clench and his thighs quiver with exertion, “Harder, fu..fuck! Please Spock, harder!” he cries, pleasure igniting along his veins like fire to gasoline.
Jim bites his tongue, jaw clamping as a hard rock of the Vulcan’s body pushes his face hard into the mattress. Spock gives a guttural growl then, nostrils flaring as the scent of blood reaches him. He twists his head around and licks into Jim’s mouth, saliva and blood slipping past their lips to run down their chins and wet the bed.
Spock bites at the corner of his lips as he pulls his own away, then nips lightly at his cheek and jaw and the line of his shoulder before his mouth latches onto the back of Jim’s neck. His sharp teeth -a contradiction to the vegetarian nature of Vulcans- sink deep into his flesh, Spock’s head tilted sideways. His hips jerk shallowly and Jim feels a strange tingling in his neck that spreads down through his whole body.
A scream wrenches from somewhere inside him as Jim comes hard, muscles twitching spasmodically around and under his Vulcan partner. His mind goes dark and hazy from the pure force of it, but he comes back to himself quickly as Spock groans and grunts in a very animalistic way, his previously frantic pace reaching new levels altogether.
At least a dozen thrusts later -Jim is very unable to count in the aftermath of such an intense orgasm-, Spock buries himself as deep as he can inside Jim, hot come coating his inner walls as Spock practically howls.
What Spock isn’t expecting is the urge he has to never release Jim from his arms.
What Jim isn’t expecting is to feel his cock hardening around three minutes later, amidst some very unexpected Vulcan cuddling. Spock smells it immediately and slides down Jim’s body, mouth sinking down over his dick. The very tip of his tongue presses just underneath the head, and he keeps it there as he twists his head from side to side slowly.
A tan hand fists in his hair and Spock takes his considerable length completely as Jim bucks up into his mouth involuntarily. Jim’s head thrashes and his body jerks as Spock utilises his superior muscle control to take him deep into his throat and swallow rhythmically around the head of his cock, the heat soon becoming unbearable. He spills after just another few seconds, Spock’s name falling from his lips.
Six minutes later Spock is sprawled out on his back, Jim grinding his ass back against Spock’s erection as he licks up one of his fingers. Spock moans and gasps and Jim feels every single little dip in his skin as he traces the digit. He sucks two of the long, spidery fingers into his mouth and licks at the extra-sensitive skin between them as Spock thrusts them in and out in a perfect imitation of their earlier activities. Jim scrapes one of his teeth over the pads of his fingers and moans when he feels hot spurts of come cover his cheeks. Spock just barely brushes the head of his cock with the thumb of his free hand and Jim comes along with him.
Jim slumps against the Vulcan and rests his head on a warm shoulder, panting. The tingles emanating from the bite on the back of his neck intensify and he feels his cock give a weak, very interested twitch. He groans.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” Jim murmurs as his hips slowly start to grind into Spock’s once more, the soft limpness of his own cock melting away as it meets Spock’s half-hard member.
“Vulcans have glands in their mouths that activate during Pon Farr,” Spock says calmly, mouthing at Jim’s jaw. “It transmits our frenzy to our mates so that they will not tire of the implied activities and wish to flee. Such an occurrence would be hazardous to the health of both and also uninvolved parties.”
Jim just hums his response, meshing their lips together and sliding his tongue into Spock’s mouth while Spock repositions him and slides into his pliant body, both panting already.
--
Bones looks up from his paperwork as his vid screen chimes at him insistently. He accepts the call and waits for the connection to complete itself. The face of Ambassador Selek -which the whole bridge crew knows is an older Spock, because really- comes up on the smooth screen.
“Hey there. What can I do for ya, Spock?” Bones asks, and if Spock is at all surprised by the greeting he keeps it very, very well hidden.
“Good evening, Doctor McCoy. I do not have much time at the moment, therefore though I do not wish to keep this conversation brief, I must. I assume you are aware that my young counterpart is currently experiencing Pon Farr?”
“Of course! I just temporarily relieved him of duty this morning. Why, is there something wrong?” McCoy leans forward, head tilting.
“No there is not, though I must insist that you also relieve Jim of duty for the remaining duration of Spock’s Pon Farr.” Spock Prime says, arching an eyebrow with an almost invisible smirk, waiting.
“W-wait, what?!” Bones sputters, eyes wide. “You mean..?”
“Affirmative, Doctor. I must now bid you farewell. May you have pleasant dreams tonight, Leonard.” his smirk widens and the vid screen flickers off.
--
Jim wakes up two days later, body sore and aching and covered in dried come from forty-eight hours of almost non stop sex. It feels like his headache’s headache has a hangover and he groans, lips pulling into a pained frown as he buries himself into the oh so warm pillow beneath his head.
And that’s when Jim realizes that his head isn’t on a pillow, but tucked into Spock’s soft side, one of the Vulcan’s hands wrapped gently around the back of his neck, palming the bruised bite marks soothingly. His eyes flutter open and he turns his head, yawning and licking at his dry lips. Blue locks on brown and Jim gives a small, sleepy smile.
“Hey.”
“Good morning, Jim.” Spock whispers in return, carding his fingers through Jim’s soft, tousled blond hair. Jim scoots up and presses a slow, slightly messy kiss to Spock’s lips. Spock returns it, lips moving soft and languid as he brings his free hand up to the meld points on Jim’s sleep-warm face.
They find themselves brought back to the Vulcan desert, purple fruit and red-tan sand familiar. Feelings rush over them from both sides of the bond, happiness and affection and warmth and contentment and a feeling that isn’t really a feeling.
“Spock?” Jim tucks his head against Spock’s neck.
“Yes?”
“What is T’hy’la? It makes me feel strange and tingly when I hear it in your mind..”
“It is you, Jim. Brother, friend, lover. You are the other half of my heart and soul, my k'hat'n'dlawa.”
“I love you too, Spock.” Jim grins.
“I love you also Jim, though I must admit I would love you more if you were to shower.”
“So… You ever heard of shower sex?”
“Jim, you are incorrigible.”
“Does that mean we can’t have shower sex?”
“I do not believe I implied such nonsense.”
Jim laughs and catches his lips in a kiss, grinning against his mouth. He pulls back every time Spock starts to push forward, planting small kisses on the Vulcan's cheeks and nose and chin. When he finally sits back, the loving smile stretching Spock's lips makes his heart stutter.
He can’t help but hope that he’ll get to see that smiled turned on him in private for as long as he can breathe.
Summary: Jim can’t understand the weight of the heat he has started feeling around his First Officer...
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4925
AN: Credit for the title goes to my friend. She commented on multiple parts while I was writing and she really helped me out<3
Jim can’t understand the weight of the heat he has started feeling around his First Officer. He knows it’s not coming from within himself, considering it feels almost scalding whenever their hands come close to touching. He also feels a strange buzzing at the edges of his mind that intensifies depending on how close Spock gets to him. It makes him feel dazed and settles a loneliness deep in his heart and Jim really, really needs to understand.
Barely a day and a half goes by after the heat appears before Spock refuses to make the slightest contact with anyone. He keeps a safe distance from everyone -which by the Vulcan’s standards means a minimum of six feet- and somehow manages to avoid the necessity of speaking to the rest of the crew.
Spock seems even colder than when they first came aboard the Enterprise, before the tentative friendship formed between them, before the Vulcan became more at ease with everyone.
Jim knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s surprised one morning when he arrives for Alpha Shift to see that Spock is nowhere to be found. A few minutes later, he gets a notice from Bones telling him that Spock is not cleared for work. The heat is mostly gone, but the buzzing isn’t, and Jim can’t concentrate because his mind is filled with various early memories pertaining to the Vulcan.
Spock’s bravery as he beamed down to his home planet while it was being destroyed by Nero, the tight sorrow that no one really noticed in his voice at the loss of his mother, the piercing emotional agony on his face as he admitted to his emotional compromise. The way that, when they were on the Romulan ship, Spock called him Jim and referred to Nyota, his girlfriend at the time, as Lt. Uhura. The way Spock had almost shyly suggested they play a game of chess, the way he easily and readily accepted Jim’s apology for the things he’d said.
Many other images flash through his mind, but the buzzing intensifies around midday and he finds himself unable to grasp them. Jim swivels his captain’s chair around and his body is assaulted by a heat that he’s convinced rivals that of the sun. His vision is hazy, but he sees Spock rush passed the open door that connects to the hallway. A bare few moments later, Jim’s mind and vision are clear apart from the light buzzing.
He feels bad about it, but Jim ignores everyone as he leaves hurriedly. He takes the opposite direction from Spock and feels the buzzing dull down until he almost doesn’t feel it. He stays so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize where he’s going until he finds himself standing in the middle of an almost empty cargo bay. His only company consists of four large crates.
For some reason, Jim climbs over them and curls into the space left between them and the wall. He presses his overheated skin to the cool metal wall with a sigh. He loses himself in his thoughts of Spock again, not fighting it in the least. He sees short, shiny black hair, the upward arch of eyebrows, the emotionless line of pink lips, the faint, pretty green tint to pale skin.
At first, Jim hadn’t noticed the major changes in his feelings towards the Vulcan, but he’s completely conscious of them now. They had spanned from mild dislike to admiration to friendship to slightly more than platonic love to actual love. He had managed to hide them unconsciously in the beginning, and once he’d figured it out, he became even better at it.
Despite all the time they spent together, the lower ranking crew members aboard the Enterprise had stopped speculating about their relationship, and Jim was happy because it would be better for the Vulcan in the long run. If no one spoke about it, then Spock wouldn’t analyze their friendship, wouldn’t have to risk becoming emotionally compromised.
It takes him a while, but as soon as Jim notices the tears running slowly down his cheeks he wipes his eyes and quickly vacates the cargo bay. He’s making his way through the halls with slow, considering steps when two ensigns rush passed, one with a heavily bleeding nose and the other with a bruise on his jaw and a split lip.
It takes him by surprise but he follows them quickly towards sickbay. He slips in behind them and watches as nurse Chapel helps them clean up and reset the ensign’s broken nose.
“Ensign Ericson,” Jim remembers on the spot, like a good captain. “What happened?” he demands.
“We were walking through the halls and saw Mr. Spock leaning against the wall. It looked like he was in pain, so we went over to see if he was okay. We asked him if anything was wrong and he attacked us, screaming that if he wasn’t okay he’d come see Dr. McCoy.”
“What?! Spock? My first officer Spock, the pointy-eared Vulcan? You’re sure?” Jim asks, mind reeling with the shock of the statement.
The two ensigns nod and Jim turns to leave sickbay. His head is fuzzy, but this time not from the incessant buzzing that is always there, even if minutely. Now it’s purely because of confusion. Spock isn’t one to become overly violent over just anything, so Jim knows instinctively that something big must be going on.
Jim enters his code and steps into his room. The heat deep inside doesn’t intensify, so he knows that Spock isn’t in his room just across their shared bathroom. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs at his shirt with the other, trying to cool down his skin. When that does nothing, he reaches back and turns the room temperature down, not caring how low it goes.
With a soft sigh at the slow relief, Jim moves off to his desk and sits down while entering a code into his communicator. After a few moments a familiar face pops up on the vid screen.
“Jim, old friend, it has been a while since our last conversation.” Spock Prime’s warm voice washes over him and he relaxes back into his large, soft chair.
“I’m sorry, we’ve been busy the past three months.”
“Three point seven four eight one, to be exact.”
“Just as precise as our time’s Spock.” Jim grins.
“As you have brought him up so soon,” Spock arches one eyebrow gracefully. “I take it this call is not just to catch up?”
“Sadly, I do have an ulterior motive, and you’ve guessed right that it’s about Spock. He’s been acting strangely, and today he even attacked two ensigns. I was wondering if you knew what could be wrong.” Jim sits forward in his seat, elbows on his desk and his chin resting on his clasped hands.
“Jim, might you know the age of my counterpart?” Spock Prime questions, expression thoughtful.
“Hmm.. Uh, I think his twenty-seventh birthday was a few months back. He didn’t tell anyone, but I found his date of birth in his medical file.”
“Then there is but one possibility. He is experiencing Pon Farr, though earlier than expected. It is an occurrence rarely spoken of outside our culture, and even within it, we make habit out of not openly discussing it with members not of our respective families. It is the Vulcan mating cycle.”
“Mating cycle?” Jim asks, eyes slightly wide as he leans even closer.
“Yes. Vulcan males go through Pon Farr once every seven years, during which they must have frequent intercourse with their chosen mate. If they are away, they must return to the planet as quickly as possible. Vulcan parents often create a mental link between their children so that when the time comes, the Pon Farr will be dealt with easily and, most times, the female will get pregnant during the days the cycle lasts.”
“Wait,” Jim starts, realization painting his face with worry. “In this universe, Vulcan is gone. Does that mean-?”
“Yes, Jim. The mate Amanda and Sarek chose for Spock, T’Pring, is dead.” Spock Prime’s face is serious, voice slightly raspy and eyes dark with repressed worry.
“Then what are we going to do? Can he just wait until it goes away?”
“No, Jim, he cannot. With Pon Farr comes the Plak Tow, the blood fever. The adrenaline levels increase into a constant flow, and the cycle also brings heightened emotions and lack of control. If he does not satiate the Plak Tow and mate with someone he has already created a mental bond with, he will inevitably die. It is my understanding that this bizarre behaviour has been going on for a few days at the least?”
“Yeah, about a week and a half. Why? Is that bad?” Jim straightens out of his slouch, eyes sharp and focused.
“Indeed it is. My counterpart is surely near the edge of death, refusing to mate with anyone amongst the Enterprise’s crew. He must think that no one on the ship has detailed knowledge of Pon Farr specifically.”
Jim slumps against the high back of his chair, tugging at his hair in a mix of worry and frustration. His mind is working a mile per second, more memories of his own Spock and some leftover from his meld with the elder Vulcan whirling around. He stares at the wall behind the vid screen, Spock’s own worried but patient face present in his peripheral vision.
A mass of images flash by in his mind but one is slow in passing, wrapped up in affection and warmth. He focuses on it and right away his mouth drops open in shock, though it is considerably less and lasts a shorter time than initially expected.
“You were mated to the James Kirk of your time, weren’t you?” Jim whispers, looking into Spock’s deep brown eyes, his own eyes brimming with tears as the memory replays in his head.
There’s the bridge of the Enterprise. An older version of Jim is sitting in his chair, Spock a few feet away. Sulu and Chekov are also at their posts, right up front and centered. Uhura isn’t too far behind the Captain’s chair, half turned away from her post. They’re all looking intently at the clock, waiting for the chime that will release them from the ship and push them into Shore Leave. Seconds before the bell chimes, Spock stands and, as he walks by him to the door, he lets two fingers brush over two of Jim’s.
“Affirmative. I do not wish to influence the course of this timeline, but in mine we were very much in love.” With that, Spock Prime’s lips curl upwards and the vid screen flickers slightly, black overtaking the expanse that was once occupied by the old but still gorgeous face.
A blistering heat rids the room completely of the cold Jim wants and he rises determinedly from his plush chair. He moves to the open doorway that leads into the bathroom and leans against the frame, gazing at the closed door on the other side thoughtfully. He shuffles over and presses his forehead to the hot wood.
He can hear Spock on the other side, pacing back and forth somewhere near the middle of his room. His feet thump dully on the thick carpet, the sound of his breathing loud even through the door. After a few minutes, Jim hears a pained groan and the barely there sound of Spock dropping onto the edge of his bed.
Jim takes a deep breath, slumping further against the door. He hears a sharp sound, rough fabric on smooth silk, and soft, hesitant footsteps moving towards the door. There’s the sound of a shaky breath and then an audible thud as Spock leans against the other side of the thick wood panel that only the bathroom doors are made of. Jim slowly slides his hand up, fingers trailing over the wooden surface, sound of his fingernails soft in the silence.
Laying his palm flat against the door, Jim feels the need to hold his breath, so he does. He waits, and then hears one of Spock’s hands copy the slow movement his own had, coming to rest in a position that Jim is sure mirrors exactly that of his own hand.
Jim exhales slowly, but his inhale stops short when he hears a few soft thumps up where his face is. He uses his considerable intelligence and memory of Spock Prime from Delta Vega to quickly figure out what’s going on just as Spock slowly coaxes their minds to melt into each other.
A subtle odour first overtakes his sense of smell. It’s the scent of a Vulcan fruit Spock Prime once had him taste, in which of the realities he could remember no more than its name, but he remembers that it’s purple, shaped like a banana and looks like a tomato on the inside and tastes vaguely like a carrot.
Colors like the tan California and red P.E.I beaches twirl across the black of his eyelids, mixing with the various shades of greens of the plants.
A soft sound like wind swirling through high dunes of loose sand fills his ears.
Jim opens his eyes, but not really, because the sight that meets him isn’t the dark wood of the door but a section of desert surrounded by purple fruit, wind rustling softly through the low plants and pushing bursts of sand up into the air. He’s looking at the destroyed planet of Vulcan.
Then there’s a whisper of his name and two hands on his waist, a face tucked into the side of his neck. A myriad of feelings come rushing at him as Spock loses control over the meld, pushing all the air from his lungs and making his knees buckle.
There’s passion, desperation, fury, admiration, pain, heat, so, so much heat and it surrounds him and burns along his nerves like wildfire.
Spock pulls away and Jim is forced back into reality as the door he’s leaning against is jerked open. He falls forward and finds himself pressed to Spock’s chest, hands gripping onto his already rumpled shirt to try to steady himself. His hand brushes against overheated Vulcan skin and the tenderness from the meld is completely gone, leaving only the Plak Tow.
Spock grabs Jim’s hip with one hand and pushes against his chest with the flat of the other, literally throwing him onto the bed with an ease that makes Jim shiver. Spock is on him in mere seconds, grabbing both of Jim’s hands in his left to pin them above his head and Jim feels the bones of his wrists grinding together as he tries to move them.
A hand fists in his hair and Jim’s head is pulled back. Spock ducks down and takes the collar of the black cotton undershirt between his teeth, releasing Jim’s hair and bringing the hand down. He tugs to the right with his teeth and to the left with his hand, tearing the shirt raggedly down the middle.
“Aw, Spock! That was my favo-“ Spock bites down hard around his left nipple and Jim is cut off by his own cry, pain and pleasure surging from his chest and hardening his cock.
Spock’s hand shoves its way down the front of his pants and that, paired with the sound of his satisfied growl and the inhuman heat of his skin, makes Jim buck up with a pleading moan.
The sound of ripping cloth fills the room as Spock tears Jim’s pants along the seam, dropping the tatters onto the floor beside the bed. Jim takes the opportunity to sit up, catching Spock’s mouth in a hard kiss that’s really little more than a smash of lips before he very efficiently tugs the Vulcan’s shirt up over his head.
Spock growls warningly and pushes Jim back down onto the bed with his left hand, resting the weight of his upper body on Jim’s chest as he works on ridding himself of his pants.
Jim struggles fruitlessly, wiggling half-heartedly under Spock’s effortlessly strong hand. He feels strangely like a four year old trying to overpower a body builder that can bench press 500 pounds.
Instead of making his belly tight with nervousness, the thought makes the front of his boxers wet with precome. He grinds upward, his cotton covered cock rubbing against the rough material and half open zip of Spock’s regulation black pants.
Spock lifts himself just barely off of Jim to tug his pants down to mid-thigh, huffing in irritation as he struggles with his one free hand. He rolls off the side of the bed and pulls the pants down in one fluid motion that reveals tight, stark white boxer-briefs that are part of the dress code.
Then they’re gone and Spock is on him again with one graceful pounce before Jim can fully appreciate the sight of his cock.
Spock makes quick work of Jim’s boxers -ridding him of them in the same manner as the pants that preceded them- and licks into his mouth hotly, tongue twisting and flicking against his own. Spock moves down then and sucks at Jim’s Adam’s apple.
“Spock, please…want you so bad…” Jim pants, writhing. “C’mon, fuck me!” he groans, fisting a hand in Spock’s hair to pull him up into a hot kiss.
The Vulcan pulls away abruptly and easily rolls Jim onto his belly in the middle of the bed. He pushes his upper body down against the sheets with one hand and pulls his ass high in the air by his hips with the other. His heart is racing in his side, blood burning like a supernova.
Jim gasps, gripping Spock’s pillow tight as he feels a long lap over his hole by a long, feline-rough tongue. His thighs quiver and he moans when the pointed tip of the hot muscle presses slightly into him, twisting languidly just inside him to loosen him up. Spock alternates between slow, gentle twists and quick, hard jabs of his tongue, hot tingles making Jim arch his back wantonly.
Spock gives one final, slow lick over the puckered, flushed hole and sits back. He brings up his hands and kneads at the round globes of Jim’s ass as he admires the view, listening to his Captain’s plaintive whine. He huffs out a heavy breath and moves back onto his knees, pressing himself bodily over Jim and licking at one exotically rounded ear.
Spock pushes against him insistently, head of his cock rubbing over Jim’s entrance but slipping down to nudge his sac almost painfully hard. He growls, chest rumbling as his frustration grows and grows until Jim manages to reach back and wrap his hand around his swollen, hot flesh. It’s hard to accomplish with Spock’s hips still jerking, but Jim finally lines him up right and cries out loudly when Spock shoves in to the hilt hard.
Spock smells the tears that well up in his eyes and forces himself to hold still, arms straining, eyes clenched shut tight as he pants. Jim buries his face in Spock’s already rumpled pillow, hands in tight fists around handfuls of it. His heart is hammering, body tight with pain, feeling like he’s being ripped apart at the seams. Spock is hot inside him, and that makes it only just bearable, because it’s Spock and the warmth is somewhat soothing.
He hears a small whine and then Spock is nuzzling Jim’s neck and rubbing his nose at the soft but sharp curve of his jaw. He feels the Vulcan’s worry seep through the other emotions already overtaking his mind and body. His shoulders dip and his arms shake at the relaxation of his muscles. Jim feels Spock’s shaky control slipping quickly, his mind once again becoming overwhelmed by the heat and passion and pure desperation.
Jim takes a deep breath, holding it then releasing it slowly. He arches his back and presses back against Spock, the stretch of himself around his First Officer not that painful anymore but not pleasurable yet and it gets a little farther away from it when Spock’s resolve breaks and he starts thrusting wildly, hands coming to pin Jim’s to the bed even as their fingers curl together.
Soon, though, the contact is all pleasure and all consuming, knocking that silly notion of pain away forcibly. Jim’s cock hardens fully once more and Spock groans at the heavy scent of human arousal and sweat that permeates the air, licking a wet trail up Jim’s neck to his ear and biting down once he gets to its rounded tip. Spock presses his nose to his hair and thrusts particularly hard, drawing a hoarse cry from Jim as the hot, delicious Vulcan cock assaults his prostate.
Jim slumps forward onto the bed as his arms give out from the impossibly intense euphoria, moaning and gasping and drooling on the pillow in a way that he would usually avoid. Spock huffs and tries to wrap his arm around Jim’s chest, but the slickness of sweat on his skin makes his arm slip up until it’s around his neck. Spock doesn’t seem to notice as he tugs Jim up, strong forearm pushing against his wind pipe and making it hard to breathe.
He pants hard and desperate as Spock holds him tight to his chest, hips jerking up and cock burying itself deeper and deeper until Jim actually stops breathing, black seeping over his blurred vision and lungs aching, but still fully aroused. That’s when Spock notices, when he feels Jim’s mind fading away slowly but surely. He loosens his arm but thrusts harder, the force of it throwing Jim back onto the bed, bracing himself on his forearms.
“Oh god..” Jim rasps, feeling his belly clench and his thighs quiver with exertion, “Harder, fu..fuck! Please Spock, harder!” he cries, pleasure igniting along his veins like fire to gasoline.
Jim bites his tongue, jaw clamping as a hard rock of the Vulcan’s body pushes his face hard into the mattress. Spock gives a guttural growl then, nostrils flaring as the scent of blood reaches him. He twists his head around and licks into Jim’s mouth, saliva and blood slipping past their lips to run down their chins and wet the bed.
Spock bites at the corner of his lips as he pulls his own away, then nips lightly at his cheek and jaw and the line of his shoulder before his mouth latches onto the back of Jim’s neck. His sharp teeth -a contradiction to the vegetarian nature of Vulcans- sink deep into his flesh, Spock’s head tilted sideways. His hips jerk shallowly and Jim feels a strange tingling in his neck that spreads down through his whole body.
A scream wrenches from somewhere inside him as Jim comes hard, muscles twitching spasmodically around and under his Vulcan partner. His mind goes dark and hazy from the pure force of it, but he comes back to himself quickly as Spock groans and grunts in a very animalistic way, his previously frantic pace reaching new levels altogether.
At least a dozen thrusts later -Jim is very unable to count in the aftermath of such an intense orgasm-, Spock buries himself as deep as he can inside Jim, hot come coating his inner walls as Spock practically howls.
What Spock isn’t expecting is the urge he has to never release Jim from his arms.
What Jim isn’t expecting is to feel his cock hardening around three minutes later, amidst some very unexpected Vulcan cuddling. Spock smells it immediately and slides down Jim’s body, mouth sinking down over his dick. The very tip of his tongue presses just underneath the head, and he keeps it there as he twists his head from side to side slowly.
A tan hand fists in his hair and Spock takes his considerable length completely as Jim bucks up into his mouth involuntarily. Jim’s head thrashes and his body jerks as Spock utilises his superior muscle control to take him deep into his throat and swallow rhythmically around the head of his cock, the heat soon becoming unbearable. He spills after just another few seconds, Spock’s name falling from his lips.
Six minutes later Spock is sprawled out on his back, Jim grinding his ass back against Spock’s erection as he licks up one of his fingers. Spock moans and gasps and Jim feels every single little dip in his skin as he traces the digit. He sucks two of the long, spidery fingers into his mouth and licks at the extra-sensitive skin between them as Spock thrusts them in and out in a perfect imitation of their earlier activities. Jim scrapes one of his teeth over the pads of his fingers and moans when he feels hot spurts of come cover his cheeks. Spock just barely brushes the head of his cock with the thumb of his free hand and Jim comes along with him.
Jim slumps against the Vulcan and rests his head on a warm shoulder, panting. The tingles emanating from the bite on the back of his neck intensify and he feels his cock give a weak, very interested twitch. He groans.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” Jim murmurs as his hips slowly start to grind into Spock’s once more, the soft limpness of his own cock melting away as it meets Spock’s half-hard member.
“Vulcans have glands in their mouths that activate during Pon Farr,” Spock says calmly, mouthing at Jim’s jaw. “It transmits our frenzy to our mates so that they will not tire of the implied activities and wish to flee. Such an occurrence would be hazardous to the health of both and also uninvolved parties.”
Jim just hums his response, meshing their lips together and sliding his tongue into Spock’s mouth while Spock repositions him and slides into his pliant body, both panting already.
--
Bones looks up from his paperwork as his vid screen chimes at him insistently. He accepts the call and waits for the connection to complete itself. The face of Ambassador Selek -which the whole bridge crew knows is an older Spock, because really- comes up on the smooth screen.
“Hey there. What can I do for ya, Spock?” Bones asks, and if Spock is at all surprised by the greeting he keeps it very, very well hidden.
“Good evening, Doctor McCoy. I do not have much time at the moment, therefore though I do not wish to keep this conversation brief, I must. I assume you are aware that my young counterpart is currently experiencing Pon Farr?”
“Of course! I just temporarily relieved him of duty this morning. Why, is there something wrong?” McCoy leans forward, head tilting.
“No there is not, though I must insist that you also relieve Jim of duty for the remaining duration of Spock’s Pon Farr.” Spock Prime says, arching an eyebrow with an almost invisible smirk, waiting.
“W-wait, what?!” Bones sputters, eyes wide. “You mean..?”
“Affirmative, Doctor. I must now bid you farewell. May you have pleasant dreams tonight, Leonard.” his smirk widens and the vid screen flickers off.
--
Jim wakes up two days later, body sore and aching and covered in dried come from forty-eight hours of almost non stop sex. It feels like his headache’s headache has a hangover and he groans, lips pulling into a pained frown as he buries himself into the oh so warm pillow beneath his head.
And that’s when Jim realizes that his head isn’t on a pillow, but tucked into Spock’s soft side, one of the Vulcan’s hands wrapped gently around the back of his neck, palming the bruised bite marks soothingly. His eyes flutter open and he turns his head, yawning and licking at his dry lips. Blue locks on brown and Jim gives a small, sleepy smile.
“Hey.”
“Good morning, Jim.” Spock whispers in return, carding his fingers through Jim’s soft, tousled blond hair. Jim scoots up and presses a slow, slightly messy kiss to Spock’s lips. Spock returns it, lips moving soft and languid as he brings his free hand up to the meld points on Jim’s sleep-warm face.
They find themselves brought back to the Vulcan desert, purple fruit and red-tan sand familiar. Feelings rush over them from both sides of the bond, happiness and affection and warmth and contentment and a feeling that isn’t really a feeling.
“Spock?” Jim tucks his head against Spock’s neck.
“Yes?”
“What is T’hy’la? It makes me feel strange and tingly when I hear it in your mind..”
“It is you, Jim. Brother, friend, lover. You are the other half of my heart and soul, my k'hat'n'dlawa.”
“I love you too, Spock.” Jim grins.
“I love you also Jim, though I must admit I would love you more if you were to shower.”
“So… You ever heard of shower sex?”
“Jim, you are incorrigible.”
“Does that mean we can’t have shower sex?”
“I do not believe I implied such nonsense.”
Jim laughs and catches his lips in a kiss, grinning against his mouth. He pulls back every time Spock starts to push forward, planting small kisses on the Vulcan's cheeks and nose and chin. When he finally sits back, the loving smile stretching Spock's lips makes his heart stutter.
He can’t help but hope that he’ll get to see that smiled turned on him in private for as long as he can breathe.