FIC: For I Am Exposed 1/1 (Trek, K/S)
Title: For I Am Exposed
By Keelywolfe
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Exposure to an unknown substance has affected the crew of the Enterprise. Yeah, like that's never happened before.
Notes: I love a cliché! Let's try a little sex pollen on for size, shall we? Many thanks to xcorpusdelictix for the beta read and also to sithdragn, who didn't so much as beta read as she fixed all the crap about Spock that I messed up. Yeah. :)
Warnings: I'm adding a borderline non-con warning to this. I mean, it IS sex pollen.
~~*~~
The ambient temperature on the Enterprise was as such that Spock was never quite comfortable in standard Starfleet issued uniforms, requiring instead specifically made attire to allow for his comfort on ship and he had never been begrudged for this small concession to his needs.
Therefore, it was unfamiliar to him to perspire when walking through the hallways, dampness gathering at his temples and beneath the protective mask he wore over his mouth and nose. Moisture from his breath continued to gather inside it as he made his way carefully around the sprawled bodies of his shipmates.
Many were laughing, loudly, quietly, although the occasional sound of weeping made its way to him. Others, most of the others, were unconscious, sprawled where they had fallen with arms splayed, mouths open and slack.
They would be fine, Dr. McCoy had assured him. The effects of exposure caused hallucinations and unconsciousness but it was not fatal. That was, if their captain didn't kill them all. Taking emergency control of all the ship's computers was certainly reasonable in this situation, but it was preferred that the person who took control was not one who had been contaminated with the epidemic at hand.
Lieutenant Jenson was at his side, his own phaser drawn and set to stun, but most of the crew simply ignored them, too lost in their own delusions to care about the two silent walkers amongst them. Only one had attacked them, obvious terror in her eyes as she screamed and she had been quickly stunned, Spock catching her before she could even hit the ground and settling her comfortably on the floor. Ensign Gei, he had noted, engineering.
Most of the remaining unexposed crew was assisting the medical teams in setting up emergency triages in what little of the ship they could access. It was left to Spock and Jenson to search for their absent but unfortunately in control Captain.
Later, Spock would reason it would have been impossible for him to anticipate what had happened, that by the time he registered a presence behind them, electric blue had already bloomed in his vision, and he barely had time to hear Jenson scream before the floor rushed up to meet him.
.
~~*~~
He woke to an ache in his head and hands that refused to move, secured somewhere overhead. Spock blinked away the dryness in his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was restrained on a bed in quarters that were unfamiliar to him, their plainness indicating that they were possibly unoccupied.
Straining to raise his head, Spock could barely see out into the main room. Someone was lying on the floor almost out of view, one sleeve visible to him with a lieutenant's bar at the wrist. Lieutenant Jenson. It was impossible to tell if he was still alive but his motionlessness was unpleasantly stark. He tugged at the restraints at his wrists, testing. They were sturdy, the same Starfleet basic issue that all members of Security carried, likely from Jenson's own belt.
"Oh, now, you didn't think I'd be that careless, now did you?" Soft, lazy words and yet the tone made him suppress an uneasy shiver. He heard the sound of movement, Kirk slowly climbing to his feet from where he'd been hidden behind the desk. It was the same loose-limbed way Kirk had always moved, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, but the shine of silver in his hands was unfamiliar. A knife, Spock saw, long and slender, and he did not allow himself to wonder where Kirk had located such an archaic weapon.
"Captain," he acknowledged, meeting that steady gaze with his own. Better to ignore the blade for the moment, as he could do nothing about it. "You must listen to me--"
"I don't believe I gave you permission to talk," Kirk said thoughtfully. He tapped the sharp edge of the knife against his mouth lightly, carelessly, and Spock could only watch as a thin line of crimson slid down from Kirk's lip, dark and obvious against his paler skin.
"Nonetheless, I will speak. You are under the influence of a chemical--"
Kirk moved fast, no sign of the latter effects of the drug. Unfortunate, that; it meant that it could be hours before he dropped into unconsciousness, considering his captain's considerable willpower. The press of the knife against Spock's throat stifled any further thoughts and he went very still, meeting Kirk's unwavering glare. Sweat was running in streams down Kirk's face, mingling with the very human blood still dripping from his lip.
"You think I don't know what this is?" Kirk hissed. One knee on the bed and he swung a leg over, straddling Spock's prone body. "I know exactly what you're trying to do."
"And what is that, Captain?" It was, he mused distantly, interesting to note the perfect emotionless tone in his voice, no tremor of fear or concern.
Kirk didn't speak again, his eyes lowering to where the knife lay against Spock's throat and there was a sharp stinging, wet warmth dribbling down to his collarbone.
"Trying to take my ship," Kirk murmured distractedly, but his eyes were avid, hot and blue as a star, watching deep green flow sluggishly downward. One fat droplet of blood welled heavily on Kirk's lip, falling as Spock watched and crimson mingled with the emerald already staining his skin.
"...Jim?" Spock said, quietly, trying for an emotional resonance.
His ploy had an effect. Kirk startled, his eyes jerking up to briefly meet Spock's. The haze of the unknown substance was dulling the normal sharpness, pupils blown wide until there was only a rim of blueness edging them.
"My ship...no..."Jim mumbled. He raised one hand to his mouth, wiped the blood from his chin with two fingers and sucked on them, wet fingers sliding from his mouth and lingering at his lips.
Spock swallowed, almost unaware of doing so, trying to work a little saliva into his suddenly dry mouth. "Jim, let me up," he asked, softly, "Please?"
He was content to play the submissive role if only to get his hands loose. There was little question that he couldn't deal with Kirk if he were free, would not, in fact, have been in this position in the first place if he and Jenson had been aware of what they were walking into.
Kirk's head snapped up, something close to a snarl twisting his face as he leaned in, his face close enough that Spock could feel his breath, too-quick gusts. A fresh welling of blood trickled down his throat and Spock strained away from the press of sharp metal.
"Let you go? So you can take my ship away from me?" Jim smirked without humor. "I know that's what you want." He leaned in, his cheek brushing Spock's as Kirk whispered into his ear, "You play so. Hard. At being emotionless, but I know better. He showed me better and I know what you're really like." There was a touch of wetness against his ear, the tip of a tongue tracing it up to the soft point. Spock closed his eyes and focused on remaining still so that Kirk didn't accidentally slit his throat.
"I got the ship, they gave me the command, me," hotly against his ear, soft lips brushing Spock's skin, followed by a slick tongue, swiping his ear wetly from lobe to tip. "It just kills you, doesn't it? They didn't even offer you First Officer, you had to ask for it, and you hate it, don't you, you hate me."
"You are mistaken," Spock disagreed, softly. "I am incapable of hate."
Jim was panting against him harshly, mouthing a line down his chin to where the knife was still pressed into throat and Spock bit his lip without thinking at the feel of James Kirk licking him where the blade touched his skin.
He leaned back abruptly, thighs tight against Spock's hips and the knife flashed. Spock flinched instinctively, heard the sound of ripping cloth as the blade tore through his uniform shirt as well as the dark undershirt, baring his chest through the tattered remnants. Kirk's hand followed it, pulling fabric out of his way before running splayed fingers down the freshly exposed skin. One thumb brushed over Spock's nipple and he tensed, only the smallest amount but it was enough to make Kirk linger, rubbing his thumbnail roughly against it until it was raw and peaked.
The clatter of the knife onto the floor was loud in the small room and Kirk's mouth was savage against his own, sharp-edged teeth biting, and he could taste his own blood almost instantly, that and the strangeness of human blood. Beneath both was the flavor of something else, something cloying and wrong that he'd never noticed in any kiss he'd had before. Unknown substance #35923, discovered Star Date 2258.75 when a crew member had been exposed to an unidentified plant life and had returned to the ship without properly documenting it. Spock had since had time to observed the beginnings of hallucinogenic and stimulant reaction in Humans within seconds of exposure.
The effects on other species were as of yet unknown, but he reflected somewhat derisively that he was going to be able to observe the effect on Vulcans firsthand. Already he could feel a reaction, a fiery injection into his bloodstream and kissing Kirk back wasn't a conscious decision. Realization came only after he was biting back, letting Kirk tangle their tongues together as they kissed deeply, sharing their tastes between them.
Licking and sucking until his lips were sore and felt swollen, until he was wincing with each hard press of Jim's mouth against his own but he also couldn't stop, dimly aware of the clatter of the cuffs banging against the wall because he was struggling against them, wanting to touch, to slide his hands beneath Jim's shirt and pull him closer.
He didn't have a chance, snarling his frustration into the heating air between them as Jim pulled away, licking his way roughly lower and tonguing every bare inch of skin as he fumbled downward. Almost clumsy in his eagerness, struggling with the clasps at the front of Spock's trousers even as he tried to nuzzle his way inside, trying to tear at the stubborn fastenings with his teeth. Finally, finally, they parted and Spock could only arch up helplessly as Kirk wrapped his sex in the slickness of his mouth.
Spock thought fleetingly of Nyota, of his other brief experiments in sexuality, but none of them had been like this, Jim almost animalistic, frantic as he took Spock in deeply, his tongue riding against the tip and dipping beneath the foreskin, a vicious little swirl that had Spock gritting his teeth. The metal of the cuffs groaned when he strained against them, short nails digging bright crescents of pain into his palms as Jim swallowed him down and the noises Jim was making, muffled little groans, were like a fresh injection of fire into his blood.
Kirk grabbed at the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down past his hips so that he could curve one hand around Spock's backside, his fingertips dipping into the crease, stroking along it. Wariness managed to pry its way in past the hot smog obscuring his senses. Spock was far from naïve about the sexual practices of Humans but he had never--
"Ah," he choked out, no part of him unaffected enough to feel any shame as Kirk pressed a finger deep inside him. Too dry and faintly uncomfortable and yet, a wordless protest escaped him as Kirk withdrew. There was a faint snap of a lid opening and then it returned, wet and slick, sliding easily past any resistant tension. Cool, wet mouth around him, the obscene slide of a single finger inside him moved into two, stretching almost uncomfortably before they withdrew entirely, Kirk letting him slip free of his mouth and ignoring Spock's helpless whine of protest as he clambered back up Spock's body to face him.
"I want you on your knees," Jim rasped against his throat, his tongue wet against the thin line of blood drying there.
"You must open the restraints," Spock managed, already tugging at them in anticipation.
"No, I don't think so," he punctuated it with a sharp bite, "If I did that, you'd leave."
"I will not--"
"You'd leave! Don't you tell me you wouldn't, I know, I--" Jim shuddered, burying his face into Spock's neck and his breathing was too-fast and cool. "You'd leave me."
"No," he breathed.
"Turn over for me." It was a command that Spock had little will left to resist. Clumsily, he rolled to his side, moving in a tangle of his own limbs and clothing until he managed to shuffle onto his knees. He was able to shift enough to rest some of his weight on his elbows, the sheets cool against his cheek as he breathed against them.
A slight touch against him, a warning, and Spock bit his lip as Jim pressed into him. It felt enormous; some sour, sane part of his mind remarked snidely that Kirk would appreciate the comparison but it was nonetheless true, too huge for his body to contain and yet Jim still pushed into him, his body reluctantly accommodating and the pain was smothered by sensation, by his need to press back into it and let Jim take him.
The first real thrust made stunning heat explode behind his eyes, white and pure, and Spock could only muffle his cries into the bedsheets, gasping out his pleasure as he begged unashamedly for more, Kirk's grip on his hips turning brutal as he thrust in again, driving into Spock and Jim's gaspy cries were edged with obscenities, as snarled and vicious as his body.
The fire heating his blood was settling between his legs, pooling there and to Spock it seemed to last forever, leaping flames in his blood that grew and grew until they finally exploded, stunning pleasure that left him biting his lips against screams, dimly hearing Kirk, who had no such compunctions, shouting his own orgasm to the ceiling as he went in deeply once, twice, holding there and Spock could feel the rushing slickness of his orgasm filling him.
Almost immediately, crushing exhaustion flooded into him and his knees failed, sending them both heavily to the sheets. The second phase of the substance, Spock realized dimly and there was no opportunity to exam it further before the blackness overtook him.
~~*~~
"From now on, anyone exposed to an unfamiliar substance on an uncharted planet goes into immediate quarantine," McCoy declared loudly, for perhaps the third time as he made his way from patient to patient, snarling out orders to the nurses, and pressing hyposprays against the necks of flinching Humans that were crowded into Medical.
Spock lay silently on his own biobed, waiting for McCoy to assess him and determine the proper course of verbal abuse to accompany his medical treatment. He would admit to some relief that Lieutenant Jensen was occupying a nearby bed, his only injury a slight concussion from falling to the floor when Kirk had stunned them both. Thus far there had been no reported fatalities and soon Spock suspected this incident would be nothing more than a report to Starfleet and a footnote in the Medical journals. For a time, it would, he knew, also occupy his own meditation cycle. Only for a short time, he was certain.
He had no more time to consider it before McCoy reached him, tricorder and hypospray in hand and irritation curving his mouth. To his surprise, McCoy pressed the button to raise the privacy barrier, a dimming curtain of energy rising around them.
"Didn't suppose you wanted me to mention this to the rest of the crew," McCoy began, arms crossed over his chest. "But you're fit for duty. Go rest awhile if you want but do it in your own quarters, I need the bed."
Spock only looked at him, a faint wrinkle in his brow. "Doctor? I do not believe that regulations allow for anyone with symptomatic exposure to an unknown substance to wander freely through the ship. I believe that is how our difficulties began."
"It is and they don't, but your exposure was so minimal it's already run through your system. It wasn't enough to put you into an altered state."
"Impossible," Spock informed him flatly. "You will find my post-incident report clearly states-"
"Yeah, it did," McCoy drawled. "And yeah, you and Jim swapped spit, but he'd already been exposed for hours, passing it along to every person he slapped on the back. I'm guessing there wasn't enough left of the actual chemical to share with you or maybe Vulcans need a larger dose than Humans for it to really get them going." McCoy's mouth twisted sourly as he shook his head. "God only knows how much it would take to get a Vulcan randy. It's a miracle you green-blooded bastards didn't die out a millennia ago. In any case, physically, you're fine. Mentally? Well, I doubt you want to be getting into that with me."
"Doctor-"
"Look, even if you don't trust years of med school and actual practice, I'd think you would trust a tricorder!" McCoy snapped. "You can see for yourself, you're fine!"
Spock ignored the device that the doctor thrust at his face. "Your instruments are obviously in need of calibration."
"There's not a damn thing wrong with my instruments! The only problem I see is that your green blood has a streak of yellow in it."
"Are you implying that I have an infection?"
McCoy blew out a sharp breath. "You tell yourself whatever you want. You're the one who always says that the science never lies. Thought I read that Vulcans didn't either."
"We do not," Spock informed him coolly.
"Uh huh, well, I have other patients who need a damn sight more care than you do, so if you don't mind-"
"How is the captain?" Spock interrupted before McCoy could berate him further.
McCoy smirked without humor, an interesting expression that Spock had noted previously in humans. "You mean aside from believing that he strapped you down to a bed and raped you? He's gonna be just fine, too. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my sickbay, I have things to do."
Before Spock could offer any other protest, McCoy had slapped the privacy button and stepped out, Nurse Chapel already rushing up to him and leading him away.
There seemed to be little else to do in Medical than to follow McCoy's order. Spock got to his feet and made his way between shuffling patients and nurses to the door, until one patient resting in a biobed against the far wall caught his eye. There were no nurses surrounding him, only the flickering biofunction monitor displaying his vital statistics. He was still connected to the fluid infusion unit as were many of the others affected, dehydration being the most common lasting effect thus far of exposure.
James Kirk was alone.
He thought the captain was sleeping but his eyes opened the moment Spock approached, weary blue lined with exhaustion, snaps of red visible in the sclera.
"Spock," he said, quietly, an underlying rasp to his voice.
"Captain," Spock began, then corrected himself, "Jim. Doctor McCoy said you are recovering."
Kirk said nothing, his eyes closing, and Spock believed he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion, but as he turned to go, soft, hoarse words followed him.
"I could have killed you."
"You did not."
"I could have."
There was little reason to deny it. "Yes. But you did not," Spock stressed. "I am well."
Again, Jim ignored his words, wetting his lips as he struggled again to speak, "Those things I said. I don’t think that way, you know? I don't think that way about you."
"I know, Jim."
"I'm so-"
Without thinking, Spock pressed two fingers against Kirk's mouth, preventing those words from being spoken. A shiver of empathy went through him that he had to suppress, the slightest touch of Kirk's shame, his pain.
Spock leaned in, his voice low between them, "Jim, are you listening to me?"
"Yeah, I can hear you."
"I will say this only once. You are concerned that you assaulted me against my will," he hesitated, before murmuring softly, "You did not. Remember that."
Startled eyes flickered open, and as close as he was, Spock could see the flecks of silvery-blue against the darker shades, "Spock-"
Spock straightened abruptly, tucking his hands together at the small of his back. "Rest, Captain. I am quite sure you will wish to return to the bridge as soon as possible."
He turned on his heel and strode out of the sickbay, intent on taking McCoy's advice and resting in his own quarters. Tomorrow would be soon enough to return to the bridge and perhaps normalcy, or as close as one could get to it on the Enterprise. But for today, he would rest.
It was logical.
-finis-
By Keelywolfe
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Exposure to an unknown substance has affected the crew of the Enterprise. Yeah, like that's never happened before.
Notes: I love a cliché! Let's try a little sex pollen on for size, shall we? Many thanks to xcorpusdelictix for the beta read and also to sithdragn, who didn't so much as beta read as she fixed all the crap about Spock that I messed up. Yeah. :)
Warnings: I'm adding a borderline non-con warning to this. I mean, it IS sex pollen.
~~*~~
The ambient temperature on the Enterprise was as such that Spock was never quite comfortable in standard Starfleet issued uniforms, requiring instead specifically made attire to allow for his comfort on ship and he had never been begrudged for this small concession to his needs.
Therefore, it was unfamiliar to him to perspire when walking through the hallways, dampness gathering at his temples and beneath the protective mask he wore over his mouth and nose. Moisture from his breath continued to gather inside it as he made his way carefully around the sprawled bodies of his shipmates.
Many were laughing, loudly, quietly, although the occasional sound of weeping made its way to him. Others, most of the others, were unconscious, sprawled where they had fallen with arms splayed, mouths open and slack.
They would be fine, Dr. McCoy had assured him. The effects of exposure caused hallucinations and unconsciousness but it was not fatal. That was, if their captain didn't kill them all. Taking emergency control of all the ship's computers was certainly reasonable in this situation, but it was preferred that the person who took control was not one who had been contaminated with the epidemic at hand.
Lieutenant Jenson was at his side, his own phaser drawn and set to stun, but most of the crew simply ignored them, too lost in their own delusions to care about the two silent walkers amongst them. Only one had attacked them, obvious terror in her eyes as she screamed and she had been quickly stunned, Spock catching her before she could even hit the ground and settling her comfortably on the floor. Ensign Gei, he had noted, engineering.
Most of the remaining unexposed crew was assisting the medical teams in setting up emergency triages in what little of the ship they could access. It was left to Spock and Jenson to search for their absent but unfortunately in control Captain.
Later, Spock would reason it would have been impossible for him to anticipate what had happened, that by the time he registered a presence behind them, electric blue had already bloomed in his vision, and he barely had time to hear Jenson scream before the floor rushed up to meet him.
.
~~*~~
He woke to an ache in his head and hands that refused to move, secured somewhere overhead. Spock blinked away the dryness in his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was restrained on a bed in quarters that were unfamiliar to him, their plainness indicating that they were possibly unoccupied.
Straining to raise his head, Spock could barely see out into the main room. Someone was lying on the floor almost out of view, one sleeve visible to him with a lieutenant's bar at the wrist. Lieutenant Jenson. It was impossible to tell if he was still alive but his motionlessness was unpleasantly stark. He tugged at the restraints at his wrists, testing. They were sturdy, the same Starfleet basic issue that all members of Security carried, likely from Jenson's own belt.
"Oh, now, you didn't think I'd be that careless, now did you?" Soft, lazy words and yet the tone made him suppress an uneasy shiver. He heard the sound of movement, Kirk slowly climbing to his feet from where he'd been hidden behind the desk. It was the same loose-limbed way Kirk had always moved, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, but the shine of silver in his hands was unfamiliar. A knife, Spock saw, long and slender, and he did not allow himself to wonder where Kirk had located such an archaic weapon.
"Captain," he acknowledged, meeting that steady gaze with his own. Better to ignore the blade for the moment, as he could do nothing about it. "You must listen to me--"
"I don't believe I gave you permission to talk," Kirk said thoughtfully. He tapped the sharp edge of the knife against his mouth lightly, carelessly, and Spock could only watch as a thin line of crimson slid down from Kirk's lip, dark and obvious against his paler skin.
"Nonetheless, I will speak. You are under the influence of a chemical--"
Kirk moved fast, no sign of the latter effects of the drug. Unfortunate, that; it meant that it could be hours before he dropped into unconsciousness, considering his captain's considerable willpower. The press of the knife against Spock's throat stifled any further thoughts and he went very still, meeting Kirk's unwavering glare. Sweat was running in streams down Kirk's face, mingling with the very human blood still dripping from his lip.
"You think I don't know what this is?" Kirk hissed. One knee on the bed and he swung a leg over, straddling Spock's prone body. "I know exactly what you're trying to do."
"And what is that, Captain?" It was, he mused distantly, interesting to note the perfect emotionless tone in his voice, no tremor of fear or concern.
Kirk didn't speak again, his eyes lowering to where the knife lay against Spock's throat and there was a sharp stinging, wet warmth dribbling down to his collarbone.
"Trying to take my ship," Kirk murmured distractedly, but his eyes were avid, hot and blue as a star, watching deep green flow sluggishly downward. One fat droplet of blood welled heavily on Kirk's lip, falling as Spock watched and crimson mingled with the emerald already staining his skin.
"...Jim?" Spock said, quietly, trying for an emotional resonance.
His ploy had an effect. Kirk startled, his eyes jerking up to briefly meet Spock's. The haze of the unknown substance was dulling the normal sharpness, pupils blown wide until there was only a rim of blueness edging them.
"My ship...no..."Jim mumbled. He raised one hand to his mouth, wiped the blood from his chin with two fingers and sucked on them, wet fingers sliding from his mouth and lingering at his lips.
Spock swallowed, almost unaware of doing so, trying to work a little saliva into his suddenly dry mouth. "Jim, let me up," he asked, softly, "Please?"
He was content to play the submissive role if only to get his hands loose. There was little question that he couldn't deal with Kirk if he were free, would not, in fact, have been in this position in the first place if he and Jenson had been aware of what they were walking into.
Kirk's head snapped up, something close to a snarl twisting his face as he leaned in, his face close enough that Spock could feel his breath, too-quick gusts. A fresh welling of blood trickled down his throat and Spock strained away from the press of sharp metal.
"Let you go? So you can take my ship away from me?" Jim smirked without humor. "I know that's what you want." He leaned in, his cheek brushing Spock's as Kirk whispered into his ear, "You play so. Hard. At being emotionless, but I know better. He showed me better and I know what you're really like." There was a touch of wetness against his ear, the tip of a tongue tracing it up to the soft point. Spock closed his eyes and focused on remaining still so that Kirk didn't accidentally slit his throat.
"I got the ship, they gave me the command, me," hotly against his ear, soft lips brushing Spock's skin, followed by a slick tongue, swiping his ear wetly from lobe to tip. "It just kills you, doesn't it? They didn't even offer you First Officer, you had to ask for it, and you hate it, don't you, you hate me."
"You are mistaken," Spock disagreed, softly. "I am incapable of hate."
Jim was panting against him harshly, mouthing a line down his chin to where the knife was still pressed into throat and Spock bit his lip without thinking at the feel of James Kirk licking him where the blade touched his skin.
He leaned back abruptly, thighs tight against Spock's hips and the knife flashed. Spock flinched instinctively, heard the sound of ripping cloth as the blade tore through his uniform shirt as well as the dark undershirt, baring his chest through the tattered remnants. Kirk's hand followed it, pulling fabric out of his way before running splayed fingers down the freshly exposed skin. One thumb brushed over Spock's nipple and he tensed, only the smallest amount but it was enough to make Kirk linger, rubbing his thumbnail roughly against it until it was raw and peaked.
The clatter of the knife onto the floor was loud in the small room and Kirk's mouth was savage against his own, sharp-edged teeth biting, and he could taste his own blood almost instantly, that and the strangeness of human blood. Beneath both was the flavor of something else, something cloying and wrong that he'd never noticed in any kiss he'd had before. Unknown substance #35923, discovered Star Date 2258.75 when a crew member had been exposed to an unidentified plant life and had returned to the ship without properly documenting it. Spock had since had time to observed the beginnings of hallucinogenic and stimulant reaction in Humans within seconds of exposure.
The effects on other species were as of yet unknown, but he reflected somewhat derisively that he was going to be able to observe the effect on Vulcans firsthand. Already he could feel a reaction, a fiery injection into his bloodstream and kissing Kirk back wasn't a conscious decision. Realization came only after he was biting back, letting Kirk tangle their tongues together as they kissed deeply, sharing their tastes between them.
Licking and sucking until his lips were sore and felt swollen, until he was wincing with each hard press of Jim's mouth against his own but he also couldn't stop, dimly aware of the clatter of the cuffs banging against the wall because he was struggling against them, wanting to touch, to slide his hands beneath Jim's shirt and pull him closer.
He didn't have a chance, snarling his frustration into the heating air between them as Jim pulled away, licking his way roughly lower and tonguing every bare inch of skin as he fumbled downward. Almost clumsy in his eagerness, struggling with the clasps at the front of Spock's trousers even as he tried to nuzzle his way inside, trying to tear at the stubborn fastenings with his teeth. Finally, finally, they parted and Spock could only arch up helplessly as Kirk wrapped his sex in the slickness of his mouth.
Spock thought fleetingly of Nyota, of his other brief experiments in sexuality, but none of them had been like this, Jim almost animalistic, frantic as he took Spock in deeply, his tongue riding against the tip and dipping beneath the foreskin, a vicious little swirl that had Spock gritting his teeth. The metal of the cuffs groaned when he strained against them, short nails digging bright crescents of pain into his palms as Jim swallowed him down and the noises Jim was making, muffled little groans, were like a fresh injection of fire into his blood.
Kirk grabbed at the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down past his hips so that he could curve one hand around Spock's backside, his fingertips dipping into the crease, stroking along it. Wariness managed to pry its way in past the hot smog obscuring his senses. Spock was far from naïve about the sexual practices of Humans but he had never--
"Ah," he choked out, no part of him unaffected enough to feel any shame as Kirk pressed a finger deep inside him. Too dry and faintly uncomfortable and yet, a wordless protest escaped him as Kirk withdrew. There was a faint snap of a lid opening and then it returned, wet and slick, sliding easily past any resistant tension. Cool, wet mouth around him, the obscene slide of a single finger inside him moved into two, stretching almost uncomfortably before they withdrew entirely, Kirk letting him slip free of his mouth and ignoring Spock's helpless whine of protest as he clambered back up Spock's body to face him.
"I want you on your knees," Jim rasped against his throat, his tongue wet against the thin line of blood drying there.
"You must open the restraints," Spock managed, already tugging at them in anticipation.
"No, I don't think so," he punctuated it with a sharp bite, "If I did that, you'd leave."
"I will not--"
"You'd leave! Don't you tell me you wouldn't, I know, I--" Jim shuddered, burying his face into Spock's neck and his breathing was too-fast and cool. "You'd leave me."
"No," he breathed.
"Turn over for me." It was a command that Spock had little will left to resist. Clumsily, he rolled to his side, moving in a tangle of his own limbs and clothing until he managed to shuffle onto his knees. He was able to shift enough to rest some of his weight on his elbows, the sheets cool against his cheek as he breathed against them.
A slight touch against him, a warning, and Spock bit his lip as Jim pressed into him. It felt enormous; some sour, sane part of his mind remarked snidely that Kirk would appreciate the comparison but it was nonetheless true, too huge for his body to contain and yet Jim still pushed into him, his body reluctantly accommodating and the pain was smothered by sensation, by his need to press back into it and let Jim take him.
The first real thrust made stunning heat explode behind his eyes, white and pure, and Spock could only muffle his cries into the bedsheets, gasping out his pleasure as he begged unashamedly for more, Kirk's grip on his hips turning brutal as he thrust in again, driving into Spock and Jim's gaspy cries were edged with obscenities, as snarled and vicious as his body.
The fire heating his blood was settling between his legs, pooling there and to Spock it seemed to last forever, leaping flames in his blood that grew and grew until they finally exploded, stunning pleasure that left him biting his lips against screams, dimly hearing Kirk, who had no such compunctions, shouting his own orgasm to the ceiling as he went in deeply once, twice, holding there and Spock could feel the rushing slickness of his orgasm filling him.
Almost immediately, crushing exhaustion flooded into him and his knees failed, sending them both heavily to the sheets. The second phase of the substance, Spock realized dimly and there was no opportunity to exam it further before the blackness overtook him.
~~*~~
"From now on, anyone exposed to an unfamiliar substance on an uncharted planet goes into immediate quarantine," McCoy declared loudly, for perhaps the third time as he made his way from patient to patient, snarling out orders to the nurses, and pressing hyposprays against the necks of flinching Humans that were crowded into Medical.
Spock lay silently on his own biobed, waiting for McCoy to assess him and determine the proper course of verbal abuse to accompany his medical treatment. He would admit to some relief that Lieutenant Jensen was occupying a nearby bed, his only injury a slight concussion from falling to the floor when Kirk had stunned them both. Thus far there had been no reported fatalities and soon Spock suspected this incident would be nothing more than a report to Starfleet and a footnote in the Medical journals. For a time, it would, he knew, also occupy his own meditation cycle. Only for a short time, he was certain.
He had no more time to consider it before McCoy reached him, tricorder and hypospray in hand and irritation curving his mouth. To his surprise, McCoy pressed the button to raise the privacy barrier, a dimming curtain of energy rising around them.
"Didn't suppose you wanted me to mention this to the rest of the crew," McCoy began, arms crossed over his chest. "But you're fit for duty. Go rest awhile if you want but do it in your own quarters, I need the bed."
Spock only looked at him, a faint wrinkle in his brow. "Doctor? I do not believe that regulations allow for anyone with symptomatic exposure to an unknown substance to wander freely through the ship. I believe that is how our difficulties began."
"It is and they don't, but your exposure was so minimal it's already run through your system. It wasn't enough to put you into an altered state."
"Impossible," Spock informed him flatly. "You will find my post-incident report clearly states-"
"Yeah, it did," McCoy drawled. "And yeah, you and Jim swapped spit, but he'd already been exposed for hours, passing it along to every person he slapped on the back. I'm guessing there wasn't enough left of the actual chemical to share with you or maybe Vulcans need a larger dose than Humans for it to really get them going." McCoy's mouth twisted sourly as he shook his head. "God only knows how much it would take to get a Vulcan randy. It's a miracle you green-blooded bastards didn't die out a millennia ago. In any case, physically, you're fine. Mentally? Well, I doubt you want to be getting into that with me."
"Doctor-"
"Look, even if you don't trust years of med school and actual practice, I'd think you would trust a tricorder!" McCoy snapped. "You can see for yourself, you're fine!"
Spock ignored the device that the doctor thrust at his face. "Your instruments are obviously in need of calibration."
"There's not a damn thing wrong with my instruments! The only problem I see is that your green blood has a streak of yellow in it."
"Are you implying that I have an infection?"
McCoy blew out a sharp breath. "You tell yourself whatever you want. You're the one who always says that the science never lies. Thought I read that Vulcans didn't either."
"We do not," Spock informed him coolly.
"Uh huh, well, I have other patients who need a damn sight more care than you do, so if you don't mind-"
"How is the captain?" Spock interrupted before McCoy could berate him further.
McCoy smirked without humor, an interesting expression that Spock had noted previously in humans. "You mean aside from believing that he strapped you down to a bed and raped you? He's gonna be just fine, too. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my sickbay, I have things to do."
Before Spock could offer any other protest, McCoy had slapped the privacy button and stepped out, Nurse Chapel already rushing up to him and leading him away.
There seemed to be little else to do in Medical than to follow McCoy's order. Spock got to his feet and made his way between shuffling patients and nurses to the door, until one patient resting in a biobed against the far wall caught his eye. There were no nurses surrounding him, only the flickering biofunction monitor displaying his vital statistics. He was still connected to the fluid infusion unit as were many of the others affected, dehydration being the most common lasting effect thus far of exposure.
James Kirk was alone.
He thought the captain was sleeping but his eyes opened the moment Spock approached, weary blue lined with exhaustion, snaps of red visible in the sclera.
"Spock," he said, quietly, an underlying rasp to his voice.
"Captain," Spock began, then corrected himself, "Jim. Doctor McCoy said you are recovering."
Kirk said nothing, his eyes closing, and Spock believed he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion, but as he turned to go, soft, hoarse words followed him.
"I could have killed you."
"You did not."
"I could have."
There was little reason to deny it. "Yes. But you did not," Spock stressed. "I am well."
Again, Jim ignored his words, wetting his lips as he struggled again to speak, "Those things I said. I don’t think that way, you know? I don't think that way about you."
"I know, Jim."
"I'm so-"
Without thinking, Spock pressed two fingers against Kirk's mouth, preventing those words from being spoken. A shiver of empathy went through him that he had to suppress, the slightest touch of Kirk's shame, his pain.
Spock leaned in, his voice low between them, "Jim, are you listening to me?"
"Yeah, I can hear you."
"I will say this only once. You are concerned that you assaulted me against my will," he hesitated, before murmuring softly, "You did not. Remember that."
Startled eyes flickered open, and as close as he was, Spock could see the flecks of silvery-blue against the darker shades, "Spock-"
Spock straightened abruptly, tucking his hands together at the small of his back. "Rest, Captain. I am quite sure you will wish to return to the bridge as soon as possible."
He turned on his heel and strode out of the sickbay, intent on taking McCoy's advice and resting in his own quarters. Tomorrow would be soon enough to return to the bridge and perhaps normalcy, or as close as one could get to it on the Enterprise. But for today, he would rest.
It was logical.
-finis-