FIC: Going Mental 1/1 (K/S, Trek)
Title: Going Mental
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 2000
NC-17
Summary: This is a sequel to my tiny ficbit Heat, but you really don't have to have read it to understand what's going on. Set just after Kirk was made captain but before they leave Earth, Spock has a little question for the new captain of the Enterprise.
~~*~~
After years of hard investigation into the subject, Kirk could say with the experience of a master that he was hung over. His eyes felt glued shut. There was a volcano in his stomach that demanded sacrifice. What in the hell had they been doing last ni-oh, yeah, celebrating his new captaincy.
It seemed that it was possible he'd had just a little too much. Jim tested his hypothesis by trying to move and the resulting rush of pain and nausea indicated that his body would prefer he not try that again anytime soon.
Yeah, this was a world-class, high-definition, alcohol-induced concussion. The food synthesizer was on the other side of the room and within it, it held the key to an icy cool glass of water and any minute now he was going to get to his feet and stagger, possibly crawl, over there and get one.
Any minute now.
The door chime rang, threatening to punch a hole through his head and into his brain. He would have ignored it on the premise that if there were a real emergency, he'd have gotten a com call. He was officially a captain but it wasn't like the Enterprise was going anywhere until repairs were done. He could be an in-bed-sleeping captain today.
It chimed again, insistently, until Jim finally worked enough moisture onto his dry tongue to rasp out, "Come in." If it was that important, they could damn well see him in his skivvies.
Wait, was he wearing skivvies?
To his bleary surprise, it was Spock who strode in, looking fresh and sharp in his Academy blacks. Well, wasn't that just wonderful.
He strode up to the side of the bed and stood stiffly, hands clasped at the small of his back.
"May I speak with you, Captain?" Cool and polite, as if they were on the bridge of a ship and Jim wasn't staring up at him with red, crusty eyes from a drool soaked pillow.
"...sure, why not?" Jim mumbled. Might as well make what was warming up into a particularly bad day even worse.
"You are involved in a relationship of a sexual nature with my alternate self. I wish to know why."
Ouch. It was times like these that the need for a Captain's diplomacy arose, that a very delicate balance of tact and discretion were required, and Jim wished very much that he still had enough brain cells left rattling around to attempt handling it.
Instead, what he said was the basic equivalent of, "Huh?" while he mourned the fact that he could have avoided all of this if he'd only had the sense to pass out in McCoy's quarters. Plus, Bones had security access to replicate hangover medication, something that would not be amiss with the growing ache in his head reminding him that, hello, still here, care for a little dose of vomiting with your hangover?
Of course, Spock was paying very little attention to Jim's personal dilemmas and was already repeating the question. "You are-"
"Wait, wait, wait," Jim shook his head. "If you want answers, then I need coffee. Black."
Spock spun on his heel before Kirk could decide if his expression was irritated but seriously, it wasn't like he was up to interpreting the finer shifts in Vulcan eyebrows today. Instead, he lay there contemplating the contours of the ceiling while Spock retrieved his coffee. Hey, Spock serving him, that he could get used to...although he might want to keep that thought to himself this morning or he might be adding a real concussion to his list of ailments.
The cup was soothingly warm when Spock handed it to him and Jim sipped it slowly, grimacing as his churning stomach tried to decide whether or not to accept this offering as good.
"Okay, one more time."
"You are involved in a sexual relationship with my alternate self. Tell me why."
Well, so much for 'captain'. After an injection of caffeine, watching this was sort of interesting. This Spock suppressed his emotions so obviously he looked constipated while his older self was freer with them and yet seemed so much calmer. Honestly, it was a lot more metaphysical than he was prepared to deal with on the ass end of a hangover.
"So, basically, you think I was screwing the older you and you want details."
"I...not precisely."
"Good, because that's really kind of disgusting."
"I want to know why." Stubborn, irritated. Really, Jim was going to be able to write a Vulcan to Human facial tic dictionary if they kept this up.
"Hm?" Kirk yawned. "Oh. I mean, no."
"I beg your pardon?"
"No, I'm not telling you. It's not any of your business." He yawned again, peering up at Spock while he finished his coffee.
Now THAT was fascinating. He was pissed. Pissed. Not the smackdown, hotheaded rage that had almost resulted in Spock handing him his own larynx, no, this was cold, pure fury. It showed in just the faintest pinch to his lips, edged white at the corners, but Kirk could tell, oh, he could tell.
"How did you know anyway, it's not like we were-" he sat up straight. "Did he tell you? Oh, my god, you asked HIM, that's just-"
"I have not spoken to him about this," Spock broke in. "He has greater concerns. I merely witnessed your farewell in the hangar yesterday."
Whoops. Trust Spock to show up in the one minute he'd had his tongue down...er...Spock's throat. Hey, it had just been for old time's sake; you fuck a guy in zero degree temperature, the very least you can do is give him a little kiss goodbye when he goes off to rebuild the lives of his people. Although Jim guessed it might be a good thing Older Spock had regretfully turned down the offer for a quick blowjob...
"So what, you think I seduced you...him...whatever?" Kirk waved the hand that wasn't holding the cup. "You know, I'm pretty sure he's already been around me long enough to resist my..." He waved his free hand vaguely, again, "Sexual aura. Whatever."
"No. One does not have to be exposed to your--" Spock's lips pinched again like he was tasting something sour, "Sexual aura, as you say, to find you attractive. I am merely curious as to why he acted on it."
"I honestly don't know what happened," Jim mused, remembering. "He did that thing you guys do when you touch someone else's brain and then suddenly we were on the floor going at it like muskrats."
Maybe Spock's English wasn't as good as he thought because he didn't seem to quite have gotten that. "You mean to say he initiated a mind meld with you."
"That is exactly what I mean to say, yeah."
For a long moment, they only stared at each other in silence, a myriad of unfamiliar expressions passing over Spock's face after he took that in. Okay, so maybe he wasn't quite ready for writing that dictionary. But he could take a wild guess.
He set the empty cup on the side table and grinned up at Spock. "You want to, don't you? You want to meld with me and see what he saw?" Jim spread his arms, invitingly. "Hey, I'm right here, go for it. Unless you're afraid that whatever he saw is going to make you roll me on the ground, too."
For just a brief moment, Jim actually wondered if he were in for another display of asskicking Spock with kung fu action. Instead, Spock stepped forward, just close enough to reach Jim's face without actually having to touch any other portion of his body. "Very well."
Pressure of fingertips against his face, a little harder than the older Spock, with less care and then
and then he fell inward, reality sliding around him like going into warp and he could feel it, Spock gliding through his thoughts with delicate care, whatever irritation he'd felt with Jim hadn't carried into this, movement rippling like water as he searched and Jim could feel Spock's curiosity, his dislike of the unknown, of him, hotshot fucking cadet who'd never paid for cheating, was made a captain for his troubles, was...was...
A pop!flash like a light going off behind his eyes.
...hands touching, older, and he could smell Spock, familiar as his own breath, the velvet softness of hot skin against his own as they moved together, learning, yes, first times and there is some nervousness, the sounds of their lips meeting slickly but there is want, need, yes, touch me there, touch me
Flash
Later, twisted together, Spock's mouth hard against his, uncontrollable and uncontrolled, his cock buried deep inside Jim and there was pain, yes, some pain, but the want was more, the feel of Spock's hair sliding between his own clenched fingers as Jim gripped it and just clung to him, let Spock fuck those loud, frantic cries out of him because god, this was worth waiting years for, worth waiting, Spock's own moans were as frantic as his touch, soft, broken little sounds and God, yes, hot hands tight on his hips lifting him into each thrust, the smell of their sex heavy in the air and it's so good
Flash
Spock's face, separated from him by an invisible wall, dying, dying, no, don't you leave me you fucking bastard, don't you leave, I can't do without, don't
Flash
Not dead, no, alive and Jim could touch him, just a little, no memories yet but there will be, there
Separation, Spock easing his thoughts back and away and Jim can feel the shock/lust/fear in it. Clings to him, winding himself mentally around the withdrawing fingers of Spock's thoughts in his mind.
no don't take it away he took it away please leave it leave it
i must not it is not you
i don't care don’t take it away from me don't don't don't please don't
Jim came back to himself with a hot, oh, so hot mouth against his own, fingers still splayed over the side of this face and slowly, slowly, both withdrew, their damp lips clinging as Spock pulled back and he was breathing like he'd run a marathon, like he was going to die, no, like he'd just been sprawled over Kirk with sex on his mind and his eyes were wide and dazed.
Kirk had to swallow twice before he could manage words, the twin throb of hangover/Vulcan brain massage mingling together unpleasantly. "Spock? What did you see?"
Spock jerked as if he'd forgotten Jim was in the room. "I --" he began, staggering back a step, then two before he abruptly turned on heel and strode quickly out of the room.
"Hey!" Kirk began, indignantly, but the "where the hell are you going, wasn't there about to be sex?" didn't seem worth saying to a closed door.
Vulcans, he decided, old or young, were strange. And apparently horny, but the younger ones seemed to control it a great deal better. It didn't even seem possible that this particular pointy-eared bastard was the early version of the one who'd rolled him on his knees five minutes after meeting him. Just went to show you how much one hundred plus years could change a guy.
Sleep seemed to be a little more in order than masturbation, tempting as the thought was with the taste of Spock's mouth still in his own. Ah, well. Jim rolled over instead and buried his face in the pillow, letting himself drift.
He didn't dream.
Read the Sequel
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 2000
NC-17
Summary: This is a sequel to my tiny ficbit Heat, but you really don't have to have read it to understand what's going on. Set just after Kirk was made captain but before they leave Earth, Spock has a little question for the new captain of the Enterprise.
~~*~~
After years of hard investigation into the subject, Kirk could say with the experience of a master that he was hung over. His eyes felt glued shut. There was a volcano in his stomach that demanded sacrifice. What in the hell had they been doing last ni-oh, yeah, celebrating his new captaincy.
It seemed that it was possible he'd had just a little too much. Jim tested his hypothesis by trying to move and the resulting rush of pain and nausea indicated that his body would prefer he not try that again anytime soon.
Yeah, this was a world-class, high-definition, alcohol-induced concussion. The food synthesizer was on the other side of the room and within it, it held the key to an icy cool glass of water and any minute now he was going to get to his feet and stagger, possibly crawl, over there and get one.
Any minute now.
The door chime rang, threatening to punch a hole through his head and into his brain. He would have ignored it on the premise that if there were a real emergency, he'd have gotten a com call. He was officially a captain but it wasn't like the Enterprise was going anywhere until repairs were done. He could be an in-bed-sleeping captain today.
It chimed again, insistently, until Jim finally worked enough moisture onto his dry tongue to rasp out, "Come in." If it was that important, they could damn well see him in his skivvies.
Wait, was he wearing skivvies?
To his bleary surprise, it was Spock who strode in, looking fresh and sharp in his Academy blacks. Well, wasn't that just wonderful.
He strode up to the side of the bed and stood stiffly, hands clasped at the small of his back.
"May I speak with you, Captain?" Cool and polite, as if they were on the bridge of a ship and Jim wasn't staring up at him with red, crusty eyes from a drool soaked pillow.
"...sure, why not?" Jim mumbled. Might as well make what was warming up into a particularly bad day even worse.
"You are involved in a relationship of a sexual nature with my alternate self. I wish to know why."
Ouch. It was times like these that the need for a Captain's diplomacy arose, that a very delicate balance of tact and discretion were required, and Jim wished very much that he still had enough brain cells left rattling around to attempt handling it.
Instead, what he said was the basic equivalent of, "Huh?" while he mourned the fact that he could have avoided all of this if he'd only had the sense to pass out in McCoy's quarters. Plus, Bones had security access to replicate hangover medication, something that would not be amiss with the growing ache in his head reminding him that, hello, still here, care for a little dose of vomiting with your hangover?
Of course, Spock was paying very little attention to Jim's personal dilemmas and was already repeating the question. "You are-"
"Wait, wait, wait," Jim shook his head. "If you want answers, then I need coffee. Black."
Spock spun on his heel before Kirk could decide if his expression was irritated but seriously, it wasn't like he was up to interpreting the finer shifts in Vulcan eyebrows today. Instead, he lay there contemplating the contours of the ceiling while Spock retrieved his coffee. Hey, Spock serving him, that he could get used to...although he might want to keep that thought to himself this morning or he might be adding a real concussion to his list of ailments.
The cup was soothingly warm when Spock handed it to him and Jim sipped it slowly, grimacing as his churning stomach tried to decide whether or not to accept this offering as good.
"Okay, one more time."
"You are involved in a sexual relationship with my alternate self. Tell me why."
Well, so much for 'captain'. After an injection of caffeine, watching this was sort of interesting. This Spock suppressed his emotions so obviously he looked constipated while his older self was freer with them and yet seemed so much calmer. Honestly, it was a lot more metaphysical than he was prepared to deal with on the ass end of a hangover.
"So, basically, you think I was screwing the older you and you want details."
"I...not precisely."
"Good, because that's really kind of disgusting."
"I want to know why." Stubborn, irritated. Really, Jim was going to be able to write a Vulcan to Human facial tic dictionary if they kept this up.
"Hm?" Kirk yawned. "Oh. I mean, no."
"I beg your pardon?"
"No, I'm not telling you. It's not any of your business." He yawned again, peering up at Spock while he finished his coffee.
Now THAT was fascinating. He was pissed. Pissed. Not the smackdown, hotheaded rage that had almost resulted in Spock handing him his own larynx, no, this was cold, pure fury. It showed in just the faintest pinch to his lips, edged white at the corners, but Kirk could tell, oh, he could tell.
"How did you know anyway, it's not like we were-" he sat up straight. "Did he tell you? Oh, my god, you asked HIM, that's just-"
"I have not spoken to him about this," Spock broke in. "He has greater concerns. I merely witnessed your farewell in the hangar yesterday."
Whoops. Trust Spock to show up in the one minute he'd had his tongue down...er...Spock's throat. Hey, it had just been for old time's sake; you fuck a guy in zero degree temperature, the very least you can do is give him a little kiss goodbye when he goes off to rebuild the lives of his people. Although Jim guessed it might be a good thing Older Spock had regretfully turned down the offer for a quick blowjob...
"So what, you think I seduced you...him...whatever?" Kirk waved the hand that wasn't holding the cup. "You know, I'm pretty sure he's already been around me long enough to resist my..." He waved his free hand vaguely, again, "Sexual aura. Whatever."
"No. One does not have to be exposed to your--" Spock's lips pinched again like he was tasting something sour, "Sexual aura, as you say, to find you attractive. I am merely curious as to why he acted on it."
"I honestly don't know what happened," Jim mused, remembering. "He did that thing you guys do when you touch someone else's brain and then suddenly we were on the floor going at it like muskrats."
Maybe Spock's English wasn't as good as he thought because he didn't seem to quite have gotten that. "You mean to say he initiated a mind meld with you."
"That is exactly what I mean to say, yeah."
For a long moment, they only stared at each other in silence, a myriad of unfamiliar expressions passing over Spock's face after he took that in. Okay, so maybe he wasn't quite ready for writing that dictionary. But he could take a wild guess.
He set the empty cup on the side table and grinned up at Spock. "You want to, don't you? You want to meld with me and see what he saw?" Jim spread his arms, invitingly. "Hey, I'm right here, go for it. Unless you're afraid that whatever he saw is going to make you roll me on the ground, too."
For just a brief moment, Jim actually wondered if he were in for another display of asskicking Spock with kung fu action. Instead, Spock stepped forward, just close enough to reach Jim's face without actually having to touch any other portion of his body. "Very well."
Pressure of fingertips against his face, a little harder than the older Spock, with less care and then
and then he fell inward, reality sliding around him like going into warp and he could feel it, Spock gliding through his thoughts with delicate care, whatever irritation he'd felt with Jim hadn't carried into this, movement rippling like water as he searched and Jim could feel Spock's curiosity, his dislike of the unknown, of him, hotshot fucking cadet who'd never paid for cheating, was made a captain for his troubles, was...was...
A pop!flash like a light going off behind his eyes.
...hands touching, older, and he could smell Spock, familiar as his own breath, the velvet softness of hot skin against his own as they moved together, learning, yes, first times and there is some nervousness, the sounds of their lips meeting slickly but there is want, need, yes, touch me there, touch me
Flash
Later, twisted together, Spock's mouth hard against his, uncontrollable and uncontrolled, his cock buried deep inside Jim and there was pain, yes, some pain, but the want was more, the feel of Spock's hair sliding between his own clenched fingers as Jim gripped it and just clung to him, let Spock fuck those loud, frantic cries out of him because god, this was worth waiting years for, worth waiting, Spock's own moans were as frantic as his touch, soft, broken little sounds and God, yes, hot hands tight on his hips lifting him into each thrust, the smell of their sex heavy in the air and it's so good
Flash
Spock's face, separated from him by an invisible wall, dying, dying, no, don't you leave me you fucking bastard, don't you leave, I can't do without, don't
Flash
Not dead, no, alive and Jim could touch him, just a little, no memories yet but there will be, there
Separation, Spock easing his thoughts back and away and Jim can feel the shock/lust/fear in it. Clings to him, winding himself mentally around the withdrawing fingers of Spock's thoughts in his mind.
no don't take it away he took it away please leave it leave it
i must not it is not you
i don't care don’t take it away from me don't don't don't please don't
Jim came back to himself with a hot, oh, so hot mouth against his own, fingers still splayed over the side of this face and slowly, slowly, both withdrew, their damp lips clinging as Spock pulled back and he was breathing like he'd run a marathon, like he was going to die, no, like he'd just been sprawled over Kirk with sex on his mind and his eyes were wide and dazed.
Kirk had to swallow twice before he could manage words, the twin throb of hangover/Vulcan brain massage mingling together unpleasantly. "Spock? What did you see?"
Spock jerked as if he'd forgotten Jim was in the room. "I --" he began, staggering back a step, then two before he abruptly turned on heel and strode quickly out of the room.
"Hey!" Kirk began, indignantly, but the "where the hell are you going, wasn't there about to be sex?" didn't seem worth saying to a closed door.
Vulcans, he decided, old or young, were strange. And apparently horny, but the younger ones seemed to control it a great deal better. It didn't even seem possible that this particular pointy-eared bastard was the early version of the one who'd rolled him on his knees five minutes after meeting him. Just went to show you how much one hundred plus years could change a guy.
Sleep seemed to be a little more in order than masturbation, tempting as the thought was with the taste of Spock's mouth still in his own. Ah, well. Jim rolled over instead and buried his face in the pillow, letting himself drift.
He didn't dream.
Read the Sequel