[TWBI] Second
Title: Second
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 2,031
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Heat Stroke
Vulcan physiology does not usually generate the same sexual charge humans experience with the joining of the lips. Just as the touching of the middle and index finger does not affect humans the same way as it does Vulcans. Connecting fingers is to Vulcans as connecting lips are to humans; connecting fingers is to humans as connecting lips are to Vulcans. There may be a slight rush from the mere physical contact, but nothing as intense. As it had been with Nyota.
She would touch our fingertips to accommodate me and I would connect our lips to accommodate her. Being half human, kissing does spark a bit more than mere physical contact though not as much as with the joining of our digits. But it felt very… disconnected. It seemed that only one of us should feel anything and the other would need to be satisfied with giving rather than receiving. Because Nyota was human and humans require more emotional reassurance, it was logical that she received more of the contact that pleased her than I did.
When I had been with Nyota, I experienced two kinds of kisses. The first one was a chaste kiss, quick and simple. A touching of the lips that was over as soon as it had started. She used this mostly for a greeting or a parting. Sometimes if we were having a discussion she would feel the urge to grant it either out of mere impulse or if I said something that pleased her, which I confess I never could see the pattern in what pleased her and what did not.
The second kiss was a 'kiss of averages' I suppose I would call it after the fact. It did not last for a very short or long time. The lips did not stay closed but did not open too wide. The play of the tongues, though existent, was minimal. This kiss appeared during the Nero incident for the purpose of comfort. Comforting me when Vulcan and my mother had vanished before my eyes. Comforting her when I was to beam aboard the Narada. I did not realize until later how strange it was that this stronger kiss was born from hurt. I had subconsciously connected that kiss to pain. Afterward, when she attempted to initiate this kiss for passion, my chest constricted and a pull in my abdomen drew me away from it. And her.
Jim's kiss was completely different, occurring a year and a half into our professional relationship and had been done in one of his drunken stupors. It was like Nyota's chaste kiss. My mind had not had the time to comprehend the sudden kiss until after the captain had pulled back. But, unlike either of her kisses, that small contact had ignited more in me than I could have thought possible. I felt myself blushing green. A fire burned in my chest as it constricted. Although this constriction had the same sensation as it had been with Nyota, I found myself reacting to it quite differently. With Nyota I found I crawled into myself, grasping tight to my Vulcan heritage; with the captain I felt myself being forced out, pulled by my human heritage.
Jim was oblivious to my reaction. He seemed completely aware of what he had actually done, and indeed he would not remember it the next day. If he had been sober, I knew he probably would have felt embarrassment with his own cheeks flushing as well. If he had been sober, it probably would not have happened in the first place.
When the shuttle breaches the Chi Sigma IV atmosphere and turbulence ceases, Jim give a loud, exasperated sigh and switches the controls to automatic to cruise back to the Enterprise. He sits back in his chair. "That was a disaster."
I nearly open my mouth to refute the statement, but that would be lying. After five long days of hard work, the Axians suddenly changed their minds completely, deciding to not join the Federation. Nothing we could do or say managed to deter them from their inexplicable decision. "Indeed."
I glance at him from the co-pilot's seat. We are alone. His smell fills the small shuttlecraft, and for the first time in my life I feel claustrophobic. I have to consciously keep my heart rate from increasing. It has been 4.2 months since Jim had kissed me, and I cannot help but contemplate the occurrence frequently. I can name the feelings Jim's kiss caused in me all those months ago. I know what they meant. But I am unsure as to what they truly implicate.
Was it my feelings or Jim's that caused it?
Perhaps my physical being is just as receptive to kissing as humans. That would mean that any love I thought I possessed for Nyota was very minimal to what I felt for the captain. That what I thought had been love had only been mild fondness for her, but I did not think that I ever felt anything other than a strong friendship for Jim. I would admit that he was physically attractive, though I would not have used the phrasing he usually used to describe himself, which was 'smokin' hot'. I had never contemplated a more intimate relationship with him. Therefore I marked this possibility as invalid and considered the alternative.
He is a highly emotional being and will rarely hide his feelings. As Dr. McCoy puts it, although I do not understand it, he 'wears his heart on his sleeve'.
A part of his natural leadership seems to steam from the fact that the mood of a room with change to mirror his own. I had heard the phrase 'when the captain is not happy, no one is' but had never experienced it under Admiral Pike. The atmosphere of a room would shift slightly if merely for the fact that a superior officer was on the bridge. Captain Kirk seems to personify this phrase. He normally enters the bridge in a happy mood, which causes everyone else's spirit's to lift. On the occasions when he enters in a foul mood, the bridge becomes tense. This ability to influence everyone within his vicinity is even more impressive in a time of crisis. He does not panic and so his crew does not either.
I am not immune to his influence. I had found myself reacting as well, although in my own more subtle way. I felt his anger when he reappeared after I had marooned him, his confidence when we had been within the belly of the Narada, his boredom when we attended diplomatic parties and his wanderlust or suspicion when we beamed down to the surface of a planet. Perhaps it was Jim who felt the overpowering feeling of love towards me and it was I who instinctively reciprocated. This would explain why he kissed me.
This knowledge however does not quell my apprehensions. That burst of emotion had left a dent within me. It was a dent that only seemed to grow as I become hyperaware of every smile he gave me, any brush of skin, accidental or not, and every ring of laughter. I began an attempt to avoid him when it was appropriate and to limit our interactions to those in the line of duty. But I found myself yearning for his presence. For as illogical a being as Jim was, I could not imagine him any other way. As highly as I held Surakian teachings and Vulcan philosophy, I began to appreciate Jim's overly emotional states. I appreciated his impulsiveness and aggressiveness as it complemented my logic and passiveness.
The strong feelings this golden being feels for me are illogical and I, for the first time, feel shame for labeling it as such. As a human, I feel shame for attempting to reject something as pure and strong as the love he had for me. But as a Vulcan, I feel shame for feeling that shame, for feeling anything toward him at all. The conflict has begun to affect my performance as First Officer and has not gone unnoticed by Jim, although he has never directly questioned me about it. Until now.
Jim leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks over to me. I hesitate for as long as I can before returning his gaze and my chest constricts. "You've been acting a little strange lately, Spock."
I raise an eyebrow. "That is a relative term, Captain. What is strange to you may not be strange to another."
"Alright. Allow me to rephrase," he says patiently. "You haven't been acting yourself lately."
I look to the view screen. "As I have the inability to be another being, I do not see how that is possible."
"Come on, Spock!" he says, his voice full of exasperation. "Don't get all evasive on me. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He pauses for a moment, setting his jaw. "Your behavior patterns have altered, and I am asking for the cause because I cannot infer a logical reason for these changes."
I look back to him. It has been a year and he still does not cease to impress me with his intellect. I must make a more conscious effort to remember this. It can be difficult when he continuously acts as if he has a low aptitude levels.
When I do not respond, Jim loses patience. "Say something."
"What is it you would like me to say?" I evade.
He leans forward slightly, and it is all I can do to sit still; I am unsure if I am preventing myself from leaning towards or away from him. "What's wrong?"
"I do not know what-" I begin.
He gives a loud frustrated groan, throwing his arms up before standing and walking to the back of the shuttle. I do not follow, choosing to sit and look out the view screen. I do not want to make him angry with me, but if I cannot keep myself away, it would be logical to have Jim start to distance us instead.
"I mean, do you hate me or something?"
I find myself looking back at him. His blue eyes show hurt and I must suppress my guilt. "No," I say simply.
"Then why are you avoiding me? Did I… Did I offend you somehow? Am I just annoying you suddenly?"
I rise and walk back to stand before him. "No."
"Then what is your problem?"
I do not respond once more. I do not know what to say.
"You're beginning to be a pain in the ass and I want to know why!" Jim shouts.
I consider all of what I have inferred. That this man loves me, even if he does not show it, and I have found myself loving him, even if I am afraid to admit it. I am Vulcan and therefore must suppress these feelings. We are fellow officers commanding a ship, and therefore should not fraternize, as it could harm the status of the ship. Our personalities are so very different that the only person I find myself disagreeing with more is Dr. McCoy. We should not, cannot produce a functional relationship, not even mentioning the fact that we are both male. It is illogical, and yet, using the advice I had received in a shuttle bay in San Francisco, I made my choice.
Before I could have a chance to reason myself out of my decision, I quickly lean forward and press my lips against his, causing him to freeze and his anger to turn to shock. It is chaste and short, but in that short amount of time, I am quickly bombarded with his emotions. His feelings are even stronger than the last time and they swallowed me, penetrated me. My distraction with the overpowering feeling cause me to be caught off guard as Jim suddenly backs me against the wall of the shuttlecraft. He connects our mouths once again, parting my lips and surging heat within me as I feel his tongue against my own.
For the first time, I fully give into my human half.
Next: Sick Jim
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 2,031
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Heat Stroke
Vulcan physiology does not usually generate the same sexual charge humans experience with the joining of the lips. Just as the touching of the middle and index finger does not affect humans the same way as it does Vulcans. Connecting fingers is to Vulcans as connecting lips are to humans; connecting fingers is to humans as connecting lips are to Vulcans. There may be a slight rush from the mere physical contact, but nothing as intense. As it had been with Nyota.
She would touch our fingertips to accommodate me and I would connect our lips to accommodate her. Being half human, kissing does spark a bit more than mere physical contact though not as much as with the joining of our digits. But it felt very… disconnected. It seemed that only one of us should feel anything and the other would need to be satisfied with giving rather than receiving. Because Nyota was human and humans require more emotional reassurance, it was logical that she received more of the contact that pleased her than I did.
When I had been with Nyota, I experienced two kinds of kisses. The first one was a chaste kiss, quick and simple. A touching of the lips that was over as soon as it had started. She used this mostly for a greeting or a parting. Sometimes if we were having a discussion she would feel the urge to grant it either out of mere impulse or if I said something that pleased her, which I confess I never could see the pattern in what pleased her and what did not.
The second kiss was a 'kiss of averages' I suppose I would call it after the fact. It did not last for a very short or long time. The lips did not stay closed but did not open too wide. The play of the tongues, though existent, was minimal. This kiss appeared during the Nero incident for the purpose of comfort. Comforting me when Vulcan and my mother had vanished before my eyes. Comforting her when I was to beam aboard the Narada. I did not realize until later how strange it was that this stronger kiss was born from hurt. I had subconsciously connected that kiss to pain. Afterward, when she attempted to initiate this kiss for passion, my chest constricted and a pull in my abdomen drew me away from it. And her.
Jim's kiss was completely different, occurring a year and a half into our professional relationship and had been done in one of his drunken stupors. It was like Nyota's chaste kiss. My mind had not had the time to comprehend the sudden kiss until after the captain had pulled back. But, unlike either of her kisses, that small contact had ignited more in me than I could have thought possible. I felt myself blushing green. A fire burned in my chest as it constricted. Although this constriction had the same sensation as it had been with Nyota, I found myself reacting to it quite differently. With Nyota I found I crawled into myself, grasping tight to my Vulcan heritage; with the captain I felt myself being forced out, pulled by my human heritage.
Jim was oblivious to my reaction. He seemed completely aware of what he had actually done, and indeed he would not remember it the next day. If he had been sober, I knew he probably would have felt embarrassment with his own cheeks flushing as well. If he had been sober, it probably would not have happened in the first place.
When the shuttle breaches the Chi Sigma IV atmosphere and turbulence ceases, Jim give a loud, exasperated sigh and switches the controls to automatic to cruise back to the Enterprise. He sits back in his chair. "That was a disaster."
I nearly open my mouth to refute the statement, but that would be lying. After five long days of hard work, the Axians suddenly changed their minds completely, deciding to not join the Federation. Nothing we could do or say managed to deter them from their inexplicable decision. "Indeed."
I glance at him from the co-pilot's seat. We are alone. His smell fills the small shuttlecraft, and for the first time in my life I feel claustrophobic. I have to consciously keep my heart rate from increasing. It has been 4.2 months since Jim had kissed me, and I cannot help but contemplate the occurrence frequently. I can name the feelings Jim's kiss caused in me all those months ago. I know what they meant. But I am unsure as to what they truly implicate.
Was it my feelings or Jim's that caused it?
Perhaps my physical being is just as receptive to kissing as humans. That would mean that any love I thought I possessed for Nyota was very minimal to what I felt for the captain. That what I thought had been love had only been mild fondness for her, but I did not think that I ever felt anything other than a strong friendship for Jim. I would admit that he was physically attractive, though I would not have used the phrasing he usually used to describe himself, which was 'smokin' hot'. I had never contemplated a more intimate relationship with him. Therefore I marked this possibility as invalid and considered the alternative.
He is a highly emotional being and will rarely hide his feelings. As Dr. McCoy puts it, although I do not understand it, he 'wears his heart on his sleeve'.
A part of his natural leadership seems to steam from the fact that the mood of a room with change to mirror his own. I had heard the phrase 'when the captain is not happy, no one is' but had never experienced it under Admiral Pike. The atmosphere of a room would shift slightly if merely for the fact that a superior officer was on the bridge. Captain Kirk seems to personify this phrase. He normally enters the bridge in a happy mood, which causes everyone else's spirit's to lift. On the occasions when he enters in a foul mood, the bridge becomes tense. This ability to influence everyone within his vicinity is even more impressive in a time of crisis. He does not panic and so his crew does not either.
I am not immune to his influence. I had found myself reacting as well, although in my own more subtle way. I felt his anger when he reappeared after I had marooned him, his confidence when we had been within the belly of the Narada, his boredom when we attended diplomatic parties and his wanderlust or suspicion when we beamed down to the surface of a planet. Perhaps it was Jim who felt the overpowering feeling of love towards me and it was I who instinctively reciprocated. This would explain why he kissed me.
This knowledge however does not quell my apprehensions. That burst of emotion had left a dent within me. It was a dent that only seemed to grow as I become hyperaware of every smile he gave me, any brush of skin, accidental or not, and every ring of laughter. I began an attempt to avoid him when it was appropriate and to limit our interactions to those in the line of duty. But I found myself yearning for his presence. For as illogical a being as Jim was, I could not imagine him any other way. As highly as I held Surakian teachings and Vulcan philosophy, I began to appreciate Jim's overly emotional states. I appreciated his impulsiveness and aggressiveness as it complemented my logic and passiveness.
The strong feelings this golden being feels for me are illogical and I, for the first time, feel shame for labeling it as such. As a human, I feel shame for attempting to reject something as pure and strong as the love he had for me. But as a Vulcan, I feel shame for feeling that shame, for feeling anything toward him at all. The conflict has begun to affect my performance as First Officer and has not gone unnoticed by Jim, although he has never directly questioned me about it. Until now.
Jim leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks over to me. I hesitate for as long as I can before returning his gaze and my chest constricts. "You've been acting a little strange lately, Spock."
I raise an eyebrow. "That is a relative term, Captain. What is strange to you may not be strange to another."
"Alright. Allow me to rephrase," he says patiently. "You haven't been acting yourself lately."
I look to the view screen. "As I have the inability to be another being, I do not see how that is possible."
"Come on, Spock!" he says, his voice full of exasperation. "Don't get all evasive on me. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He pauses for a moment, setting his jaw. "Your behavior patterns have altered, and I am asking for the cause because I cannot infer a logical reason for these changes."
I look back to him. It has been a year and he still does not cease to impress me with his intellect. I must make a more conscious effort to remember this. It can be difficult when he continuously acts as if he has a low aptitude levels.
When I do not respond, Jim loses patience. "Say something."
"What is it you would like me to say?" I evade.
He leans forward slightly, and it is all I can do to sit still; I am unsure if I am preventing myself from leaning towards or away from him. "What's wrong?"
"I do not know what-" I begin.
He gives a loud frustrated groan, throwing his arms up before standing and walking to the back of the shuttle. I do not follow, choosing to sit and look out the view screen. I do not want to make him angry with me, but if I cannot keep myself away, it would be logical to have Jim start to distance us instead.
"I mean, do you hate me or something?"
I find myself looking back at him. His blue eyes show hurt and I must suppress my guilt. "No," I say simply.
"Then why are you avoiding me? Did I… Did I offend you somehow? Am I just annoying you suddenly?"
I rise and walk back to stand before him. "No."
"Then what is your problem?"
I do not respond once more. I do not know what to say.
"You're beginning to be a pain in the ass and I want to know why!" Jim shouts.
I consider all of what I have inferred. That this man loves me, even if he does not show it, and I have found myself loving him, even if I am afraid to admit it. I am Vulcan and therefore must suppress these feelings. We are fellow officers commanding a ship, and therefore should not fraternize, as it could harm the status of the ship. Our personalities are so very different that the only person I find myself disagreeing with more is Dr. McCoy. We should not, cannot produce a functional relationship, not even mentioning the fact that we are both male. It is illogical, and yet, using the advice I had received in a shuttle bay in San Francisco, I made my choice.
Before I could have a chance to reason myself out of my decision, I quickly lean forward and press my lips against his, causing him to freeze and his anger to turn to shock. It is chaste and short, but in that short amount of time, I am quickly bombarded with his emotions. His feelings are even stronger than the last time and they swallowed me, penetrated me. My distraction with the overpowering feeling cause me to be caught off guard as Jim suddenly backs me against the wall of the shuttlecraft. He connects our mouths once again, parting my lips and surging heat within me as I feel his tongue against my own.
For the first time, I fully give into my human half.
Next: Sick Jim