Tear You Apart | STXI | NC-17 | Part 2/2
Title: Tear You Apart
Author: lalazee
Beta: rainbowstrlght JFC, girl. You made this fic work. Thank you.
Series: STXI: Academy Days
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~10,800
Disclaimer: It only happened in my head.
Summary: [K/S] ‘It’s only just a crush, it'll go away; it's just like all the others it'll go away.
Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know; you pray it all away, but it continues to grow.’
Author's Note: This ficlet is based entirely off of the song Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. It’s one of my all-time favourite songs, and I hope this pays proper tribute to its sexy intensity.
Jim’s pride hurt.
He had been aware of Spock’s Vulcan disposition from the start. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that Spock had reacted so negatively; after all was said and done.
And yet Jim had been shocked stiff.
He still reeled from the black look Spock had cracked him with. A painful weight curled in his chest every time he dared to recall the way his glow of happiness had evaporated; with the hastily removed weight of Spock’s body.
Rejection was not an unfamiliar concept to Jim. In his twenty-something years on this planet, he’d been effectively abandoned by all of the people he had cared most about. The people he still cared about.
So it should not have meant so much to Jim, that his professor had shrugged him aside. In fact, that was the most logical fucking course of action - why the hell would Spock do anything else?
Well, why the hell couldn’t Spock have done something else?
Jim had recognised the ravenous glare of lust in Spock’s eyes. He had felt need in the bruising drag of those long, pale fingers against his thighs. He’d even recognised that brief glow of contentment; which had enveloped their sated bodies before Jim had so foolishly broken the silence.
That was what perplexed Jim the most. If both he and Spock had experienced the same emotions, why would Spock still feel the need to run?
Fuck rules and regulations. What Jim had felt in that office had been more than lust; more than instant gratification. More than a crush. That should have mattered more than inconsequential titles, like ‘professor’ or ‘cadet’.
But apparently, that was not the logic of a certain professor. Jim was resigned to this fact.
This was not a no-win situation. There had been nothing to win, in the first place.
Spock had made his thoughts clear; and Jim was not the type to chase a person to the point of becoming pathetic.
Jim sat at the back of the classroom from that point on. It didn’t matter that he’d always sat in the front in Professor Spock’s class. The back was where he tended to sit in all of his other classes, anyway. No special exceptions here.
Time passed. Jim and Spock never spoke.
By the end of the semester, Jim had made a point of acing the class. He had studied his ass off. His pride could only take so many hits -his success in the course was a petty relief to his overall feeling of inadequacy. Jim didn’t care; he wanted the small victory.
On the last day of the semester, the bubbling excitement of summer break was palpable. Professor Spock’s students filtered out of the classroom and into the hallway. Jim trailed behind; shoulders stiff, chin angled haughtily.
And fuck if he didn’t give in to the urge to glance at the Vulcan one last time.
Their gazes collided, like two steel blades clashing. Spock had already fastened his eyes on Jim; his expression was drawn and possibly troubled.
Jim didn’t give a shit. Or that’s what he told himself, at least. He sent his professor a sharp, mock salute with two fingers, and sauntered out of the room.
He did not look back. Jim had teased himself enough.
***
The fall semester brought rain by the bucket-load. Despite the high chance of precipitation day-in and day-out, Jim did not carry an umbrella. In fact, he had never owned an umbrella. Some overly-masculine aspect of his ego hindered him from using one; so Jim stuck with hoodies, if he could remind himself to wear one in the first place.
Which, in this case, he had not remembered.
Jim picked up the pace as he sauntered down the sidewalk; which bordered the main grounds of campus. Rain hurtled to the earth in large, fat droplets. Jim had long stopped attempting to run to his dorm -it was too far, and he was already too soaked. His white t-shirt clung to his chest, like a second skin; and his sopping jeans hung heavily from his hips.
He hunched his shoulders, ducked his head, and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. Jim would have probably enjoyed the rain, had it not been such a steady torrent, and accompanied by a chill in the air.
Jim’s lowered attention was perked by the hollow, humming chirp of a hover-car descending to his level. He frowned at the car as it idled quietly beside him. He didn’t recognise the vehicle as belonging to anyone he knew.
Looking over his shoulder once, to make sure the car was indeed stopping for him, Jim approached the tinted window. He leaned forward and squinted against the rain that caught on his thick lashes. The door of the car hissed and slid upward, folding atop the hood.
Jim bit the inside of his cheek to keep his jaw from dropping.
Spock cocked his head, and peered out at Jim soberly. “May I offer you transport?”
Jim shrugged. “You can offer all you want.”
He shifted, and prepared to stalk away. Not only was the weather miserable, but now he felt miserable. Jim had spent months attempting to flush Spock from his system; only to find that he remained begrudgingly waterlogged, with the same boiling emotions.
Spock’s voice held the inarguable presence of an instructor; one who was accustomed to being minded. “Jim. Get in.”
Of course, Spock had to say his name - now, of all times.
Jim attempted to find his dignity. He swept a hand through his dishevelled hair, and sent a halo of mist around his head. He cocked a hip. “Sorry, Professor. I’ve never been very good at taking orders.”
The Vulcan’s reply was muted by the steady thrum of rain upon the hood. Spock’s lashes swept down. His expression had hardly changed, and yet conveyed a great weight upon his shoulders. Regret?
“You would rather risk pneumonia, than sit beside me?”
Jim stood there, for what felt like an eternity. Spock would look anywhere but at his face.
Fuck. Why did this feel like another cliff he was hurling himself off of?
With a vexed sigh, Jim slid onto the seat. He reached up, and manually slammed the door down with a resounding crack. He inwardly groaned as the rain slid off of him in streams; pooling uncomfortably beneath him. Goddamn, what he wouldn’t give to be out of these sodden clothes.
“What is your destination?”
“Dorms,” Jim replied shortly. He leaned his forehead upon the cool window; where his breath fogged the glass, and brought him back to -
Jim rubbed his hands over his face, and slicked his hair back. He closed his eyes and willed the memory away.
Now that Jim was in the car, it felt unbelievably stuffy. The natural heat of Spock’s body, coupled with their moist breathing and the soaked state of Jim’s clothes, created a miniature sauna within the car.
Jim badly wanted to open the window and gasp for breath, but he couldn’t risk moving. He felt like if he moved, this fragile silence would shatter. All his carefully crafted defences would collapse, and Spock would see how truly pathetic he was.
He managed to sit still through the short car ride. Jim resisted squirming, because the squelching sound his clothes made was seriously not sexy. Not that he was worrying about that.
There was hardly a heartbeat between Spock turning off the engine, and Jim attempting to yank the door open. The entire trip had been a bad idea. Why couldn’t Spock leave him be? Wasn’t Spock’s plea the very same, once?
Searing fingertips shackled Jim’s wrist. Like a caged animal, he whipped around.
“What?”
“I...” For once, Spock appeared to grasp for words. “Regret the imprudent manner in which I conducted our situation.”
Jim’s breath hitched; the small utterance was far too loud in the closed cabin.
Spock’s eyes quietly pleaded for understanding. Fuck, puppy-dog eyes? Jim looked down at their hands; the pale fingers that firmly encircled his wrist. This was the Vulcan equivalent of begging, wasn’t it?
“Christ, you have a way with words.” Jim shook his head, as he lifted his eyes to meet Spock’s. His expression remained guarded, but his voice warmed and cracked slightly with his admission. “I’m sorry, too. Not for -” Jim jerked a shoulder; hoping Spock would understand that he was not in any way sorry for having sex with him.
Spock’s brows descended slightly and his opaque eyes softened; as Jim realised that Spock understood. When the Vulcan opened himself up he seemed to read Jim like a book. Jim plodded on uncomfortably - he wasn’t used to emotional admissions, save for lust or anger.
“I wish I’d... thought things through. Not always my strong point.” Jim sucked in a gulp of breath. Fuck. This would be the last time he threw himself at Spock. After this, he wouldn’t continue to play the game.
His heart had been the one thing James Kirk would never gamble on. Now, he would take the chance.
Jim squirmed in his seat and shifted closer to Spock. He wrenched his wrist free, only to clutch one of Spock’s hands in both of his. Their palms slid unsteadily against Jim’s rain-slick skin.
“Spock. Don’t you feel it too?” He leaned in further, imploring the Vulcan. Jim’s voice raised an octave; in his haste to hurl every confusing emotion he was experiencing straight into Spock. “Don’t you feel like you can’t look away? Like what happened between us wasn’t just a one-off?”
The longer Spock remained still, the further anxiety rose in Jim’s throat. “Dammit, you’re so in control - tell me what you feel!”
Spock’s movement was so lithe, and so smooth, that Jim had little time to register being man-handled. Or, Vulcan-handled.
He had been hefted across the stick shift, and placed on Spock’s lap. His legs stretched out to the seat he’d vacated, and Spock’s arms were around Jim’s middle. That was not the most shocking aspect of the moment, however.
Spock’s forehead was pressed against Jim’s. From the blistering heat of Spock’s skin, warmth bled through. No -it was not the warmth of his skin.
Christ, Jim could feel so much. He gasped for breath - an onslaught of fear, relief, lust, and affection swirled vehemently within his chest. As he opened his eyes wide, Jim’s own confusion melded with the intruding emotions.
Spock’s lids were lowered, with his high cheekbones a brilliant shade of emerald. Jim suddenly realised the Vulcan’s breathing was as laboured as his. Spock’s hand slid from the shirt clinging to his back, and nestled at the nape of Jim’s neck. The Vulcan’s voice swelled, like waves lapping tenderly at Jim’s skin.
“You... Jim, you incapacitate me. I cannot organise my thoughts when you are near. I cannot... breathe. Do you feel this?”
“This -you’re doing this?” Jim pressed his forehead further against Spock’s; and he could swear the beads of rain upon his brow sizzled at their prolonged touch. Their noses bumped companionably; their lips a sliver of breath apart. “Spock,” he murmured; finally allowing his lashes to fall.
Of course this had been how Spock had understood him; in the moments which Jim had failed to properly express himself. He was a telepath. This had been how he’d known exactly where to touch Jim, and what would drive him wild. Heat simmered between his thighs, accompanying the memory. He felt Spock’s lust peak like a sharp heartbeat within his consciousness.
“So basically, you’re saying I drive you as crazy as you do me?”
Spock finally opened his eyes. “Under the circumstances, I believe that your effect on me is more powerful than the reverse.”
Jim found himself ludicrously pleased by this, if not a bit doubtful. He leaned back an inch, and savoured each one of Spock’s poetic features. “You think?”
“I know.”
Large, slender hands skimmed reverently along the muscular plains of Jim’s back. Spock bumped his nose against Jim’s once more; and Jim smiled to himself. He wondered if Spock knew what an Eskimo kiss was; and whether or not he would find it illogical, or simply pretend he found it illogical.
Jim’s lips brushed the delicate skin of Spock’s flushed mouth. “Why don’t we put that theory to the test?”
In a motion that was far clumsier than anything Spock had pulled off, Jim braced his hands upon Spock’s slim shoulders as he swung his leg over; so that he could straddle Spock’s lap.
Jim peered down at Spock’s shirt, which was conveniently soaked through and clinging for dear life. Each lithe muscle was outlined beautifully. Holding his breath Jim reached out, and began to trace the slope of Spock’s collarbone with his fingertips. Spock inhaled sharply. Spurred on by the Vulcan’s reaction, Jim continued his gentle exploration. He grazed his thumbnail over Spock’s nipple.
Spock hissed softly, as his hands settled beneath Jim’s shirt. Without a word, Spock gripped the hem of the sodden garment and pulled it over Jim’s head; where the discarded piece of clothing was tossed into the back seat with a wet plop.
The misplaced sound had a laugh bubbling in Jim’s throat. He bit down on his bottom lip, but found he could not hold back his smile.
Spock, whose fingers had already begun to travel down to the button of Jim’s jeans, raised a lofty brow. “Jim. Kiss me.”
Jim’s laughter dried. His stab of lust was mirrored by the pulsing swell of Spock’s cock, pushing up between Jim’s thighs. Jim had said he wasn’t good at taking orders... but, for Spock. Well. He leaned forward and paused.
“Spock?”
Spock’s expressive brows drew together, a shadow of a pout weighing down his bottom lip. “What?”
“Just to be clear, you’re not my teacher anymore.” Jim didn’t want a repeat of the first time. He was beginning to realise that it wasn’t the end of the world, if he looked to the future of a relationship. In fact, simply attempting to imagine the possibility of a continued relationship left his heart fluttering.
Spock’s lips curved softly. His hands slid up Jim’s slippery torso, and kindled fires across his skin; as he linked his fingers behind Jim’s neck. “Technically, I am not.”
Jim realised how wrong he had been, when he’d imagined he could live without seeing a smile from Spock. His heart did flip-flops, and he was sure it would simply climb up his throat. He resolved to murmur into Spock’s mouth, just before their lips met.
“Oh. Good.”
The kiss was gentle, and potent with every thick, honeyed emotion they felt. Jim sighed softly against Spock’s mouth; his hands still upon Spock’s chest. Spock’s fingers caressed the hard line of Jim’s jaw, and his free hand reached forward to clasp around Jim’s palm.
Jim begrudgingly parted his lips from Spock’s, and peered at their hands quizzically. Spock interlaced their fingers. A heat, like Iowa summer sun, flooded Jim’s palm.
“Although you leave no room for complaints, this was the kiss I referred to.” Spock let go of Jim’s hand; only to begin delicately stroking the length of Jim’s fingertips in a series of slow, languid strokes. “This is how we kiss, on Vulcan.” ‘
Jim worried his bottom lip in concentration. He found himself immediately enamoured with the odd intimacy of the action. In a way, Jim felt he could relate to this form of affection. He’d never held a girl’s hand - hadn’t wanted to.
Jim had never clung to anyone in his life. Now all he wanted to do was hold on to Spock; like the Vulcan was his life raft.
With an experimental thrust of his thumb, Jim pulsed the pad of his finger against the centre of Spock’s palm; and caressed in a slow, small circle. Spock’s entire body jerked in response; and the Vulcan’s cock began to strain between Jim’s thighs once more. Jim grinned like a boy who’d gotten a new toy, and repeated the action.
“So, when you gave me that massage...” Jim continued to splay his fingers across the length of Spock’s, while his other hand was busy with undoing the zipper of Spock’s pants. “You were basically getting your kink on?”
Spock blinked hard; and for a split second Jim could swear the Vulcan was attempting to uncross his eyes. Jim buried a laugh, but his eyes twinkled with twin flashes of amusement and arousal. To know that he could undo someone like Spock filled him with an overwhelming sense of love, and importance. Two emotions which had remained elusive throughout Jim’s life.
“I was not. You implored me for assistance, and I complied.”
Jim leaned forward, and smiled against Spock’s neck. “Oh, was that how it was?” Jim grazed his fingernails down Spock’s palm, and at the same time freed the Vulcan’s cock. He wrapped his hand around the throbbing length.
Spock keened quietly, and his entire body stiffened in response. Once more, he moved with an efficiency and speed that left no time for Jim to understand the movements.
Which was why Jim yelped in surprise, when Spock’s hand left Jim’s as he yanked at the seat-reclining lever, near the car door. The seat went flying back, and Jim was left clinging to Spock’s chest.
He gazed down at Spock. He was caught between a laugh and a moan, when he registered the look of impatient passion painted across Spock’s face.
With great care, and slow drags of palms against wet skin, they undressed each other. Each sopping garment was discarded; and with each minute that passed, their hands and lips savoured each damp inch of each other’s bodies.
Jim shimmied down the seat as best he could. The small of his back was pressed uncomfortably against the steering wheel, but the feeling quickly dwindled. Jim leaned forward and took the cum-slicked head of Spock’s dick into his mouth. Spock’s hips arched in response, and Jim could hear his name slide off the Vulcan’s tongue like a prayer.
The tip of Jim’s tongue greedily explored the double ridge, and his front teeth grazed the head. Spock abdomen shivered.
Spock tasted musky, and vaguely sweet. Jim took as much of the heavy, throbbing cock into his mouth as he could. He suctioned his lips near the base, and dragged his mouth up, tightly -fuck, he could just worship Spock’s dick forever.
Spock had other plans, though. After only a few bobs of Jim’s head, Spock was a writhing mess beneath him.
“Jim. I need you.”
Jim’s heart soared at the plea masked behind the gruffly imparted request. Nothing in the world could tear Jim away from complying.
He eagerly scooted back up, atop Spock’s thighs. He looked down at Spock, entranced by what he saw there. Spock’s eyes were hooded and his expression candid, with his lips swollen and softly parted. His chest heaved with each shallow breath; and his milky shoulders were dusted with a verdant, green hue that shimmered beneath the dewy layer of Jim’s sweat, and rain.
“Spock.” Jim leaned forward, and reached between them to grip Spock’s cock. He aligned the throbbing head with his tight, willing opening. Jim nudged Spock’s nose with his own, and brushed his lips against that moist, searing, Vulcan mouth. “I’ll always need you.”
Jim’s hips descended at the same pace as his tongue into Spock’s mouth. Spock swallowed Jim’s cry; as they moved their hips in tandem and brought slowly Spock into Jim’s tight, unrelenting heat. For a long moment bodies remained pressed flush against each other, their hips undulating shallowly. Spock’s fingers fisted in Jim’s damp, unruly hair; as Jim bit down on the delectable curve of Spock’s shoulder.
One enthusiastic thrust from Spock nicked the edge of blinding pleasure within him. Jim crunched his eyes shut, as he flung himself back with a strangled gasp.
The back of Jim’s head hit the padded roof of the car. He would have laughed, had he not been so intent on the starburst of pleasure orbiting every fibre of his body.
His hips rolled enthusiastically. Spock gave up at attempting a slippery hold on Jim’s thighs; as the he mercilessly rode the Vulcan’s cock. Jim’s mouth was slack, as he gasped for breath inside the muggy car.
In some vaguely lucid corner of his mind, Jim could swear the entire car was rocking; with the force of his pace, and Spock’s heaving hips beneath him.
Spock wrapped his fingers around Jim’s dick, and flicked his thumb across the taut bundle of nerves beneath the head. The earth dropped from beneath Jim, and he was rocketed into oblivion. He slammed his hips firmly down on Spock, taking in every blissful, fiery inch. Jim could feel the powerful spurts of his cock drain him of every coherent thought.
And when the spasms of Jim’s orgasm brought on Spock’s breathtaking climax, Jim finally allowed himself to collapse atop his lover.
For a long moment, the only sounds that filled the air were of ragged breathing. Then the breaths quieted, and the chest which Jim had pillowed his head upon evened out. Jim could feel himself slowly descend back to earth -and Spock was with him.
For a sharp moment, Jim was terrified to speak. He understood what they shared was incredibly special, and the beginning of something he would never forget. But, all the same, he was human. He had fears and doubts. What if he said the wrong thing, once more?
Rather than using his mouth for words, Jim propped himself upon his elbow, and rained light kisses over Spock’s face. Spock’s lashes fluttered, and then lifted. His eyes were the most startling shade of burnished gold.
Spock’s hand shifted, and rested heavily at the nape of Jim’s neck. He frowned. “Never refrain from speaking in my presence, Jim.” He hesitated. “Your choice of words, at integral moments of conversation, may be... unorthodox. But your ability to express yourself remains unparalleled, in comparison to any scholar I have encountered.”
Jim scowled, although the affectionate tone of his voice bellied any true offense. “So, I have a way with words - even though, I don’t know as many as your big, sexy brain? You have some unorthodox pillow-talk, my friend.”
The soft breath from Spock’s nose could have been considered a laugh. “No, Jim. You have a way with your heart.”
Jim could feel his ears burn. He struggled to meet Spock’s eyes, because he knew he was no longer able to shield his emotions. Jim’s tone was tentative. “And you... like that?”
“No.” Spock murmured. “I love it.”
Author: lalazee
Beta: rainbowstrlght JFC, girl. You made this fic work. Thank you.
Series: STXI: Academy Days
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~10,800
Disclaimer: It only happened in my head.
Summary: [K/S] ‘It’s only just a crush, it'll go away; it's just like all the others it'll go away.
Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know; you pray it all away, but it continues to grow.’
Author's Note: This ficlet is based entirely off of the song Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. It’s one of my all-time favourite songs, and I hope this pays proper tribute to its sexy intensity.
Jim’s pride hurt.
He had been aware of Spock’s Vulcan disposition from the start. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that Spock had reacted so negatively; after all was said and done.
And yet Jim had been shocked stiff.
He still reeled from the black look Spock had cracked him with. A painful weight curled in his chest every time he dared to recall the way his glow of happiness had evaporated; with the hastily removed weight of Spock’s body.
Rejection was not an unfamiliar concept to Jim. In his twenty-something years on this planet, he’d been effectively abandoned by all of the people he had cared most about. The people he still cared about.
So it should not have meant so much to Jim, that his professor had shrugged him aside. In fact, that was the most logical fucking course of action - why the hell would Spock do anything else?
Well, why the hell couldn’t Spock have done something else?
Jim had recognised the ravenous glare of lust in Spock’s eyes. He had felt need in the bruising drag of those long, pale fingers against his thighs. He’d even recognised that brief glow of contentment; which had enveloped their sated bodies before Jim had so foolishly broken the silence.
That was what perplexed Jim the most. If both he and Spock had experienced the same emotions, why would Spock still feel the need to run?
Fuck rules and regulations. What Jim had felt in that office had been more than lust; more than instant gratification. More than a crush. That should have mattered more than inconsequential titles, like ‘professor’ or ‘cadet’.
But apparently, that was not the logic of a certain professor. Jim was resigned to this fact.
This was not a no-win situation. There had been nothing to win, in the first place.
Spock had made his thoughts clear; and Jim was not the type to chase a person to the point of becoming pathetic.
Jim sat at the back of the classroom from that point on. It didn’t matter that he’d always sat in the front in Professor Spock’s class. The back was where he tended to sit in all of his other classes, anyway. No special exceptions here.
Time passed. Jim and Spock never spoke.
By the end of the semester, Jim had made a point of acing the class. He had studied his ass off. His pride could only take so many hits -his success in the course was a petty relief to his overall feeling of inadequacy. Jim didn’t care; he wanted the small victory.
On the last day of the semester, the bubbling excitement of summer break was palpable. Professor Spock’s students filtered out of the classroom and into the hallway. Jim trailed behind; shoulders stiff, chin angled haughtily.
And fuck if he didn’t give in to the urge to glance at the Vulcan one last time.
Their gazes collided, like two steel blades clashing. Spock had already fastened his eyes on Jim; his expression was drawn and possibly troubled.
Jim didn’t give a shit. Or that’s what he told himself, at least. He sent his professor a sharp, mock salute with two fingers, and sauntered out of the room.
He did not look back. Jim had teased himself enough.
***
The fall semester brought rain by the bucket-load. Despite the high chance of precipitation day-in and day-out, Jim did not carry an umbrella. In fact, he had never owned an umbrella. Some overly-masculine aspect of his ego hindered him from using one; so Jim stuck with hoodies, if he could remind himself to wear one in the first place.
Which, in this case, he had not remembered.
Jim picked up the pace as he sauntered down the sidewalk; which bordered the main grounds of campus. Rain hurtled to the earth in large, fat droplets. Jim had long stopped attempting to run to his dorm -it was too far, and he was already too soaked. His white t-shirt clung to his chest, like a second skin; and his sopping jeans hung heavily from his hips.
He hunched his shoulders, ducked his head, and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. Jim would have probably enjoyed the rain, had it not been such a steady torrent, and accompanied by a chill in the air.
Jim’s lowered attention was perked by the hollow, humming chirp of a hover-car descending to his level. He frowned at the car as it idled quietly beside him. He didn’t recognise the vehicle as belonging to anyone he knew.
Looking over his shoulder once, to make sure the car was indeed stopping for him, Jim approached the tinted window. He leaned forward and squinted against the rain that caught on his thick lashes. The door of the car hissed and slid upward, folding atop the hood.
Jim bit the inside of his cheek to keep his jaw from dropping.
Spock cocked his head, and peered out at Jim soberly. “May I offer you transport?”
Jim shrugged. “You can offer all you want.”
He shifted, and prepared to stalk away. Not only was the weather miserable, but now he felt miserable. Jim had spent months attempting to flush Spock from his system; only to find that he remained begrudgingly waterlogged, with the same boiling emotions.
Spock’s voice held the inarguable presence of an instructor; one who was accustomed to being minded. “Jim. Get in.”
Of course, Spock had to say his name - now, of all times.
Jim attempted to find his dignity. He swept a hand through his dishevelled hair, and sent a halo of mist around his head. He cocked a hip. “Sorry, Professor. I’ve never been very good at taking orders.”
The Vulcan’s reply was muted by the steady thrum of rain upon the hood. Spock’s lashes swept down. His expression had hardly changed, and yet conveyed a great weight upon his shoulders. Regret?
“You would rather risk pneumonia, than sit beside me?”
Jim stood there, for what felt like an eternity. Spock would look anywhere but at his face.
Fuck. Why did this feel like another cliff he was hurling himself off of?
With a vexed sigh, Jim slid onto the seat. He reached up, and manually slammed the door down with a resounding crack. He inwardly groaned as the rain slid off of him in streams; pooling uncomfortably beneath him. Goddamn, what he wouldn’t give to be out of these sodden clothes.
“What is your destination?”
“Dorms,” Jim replied shortly. He leaned his forehead upon the cool window; where his breath fogged the glass, and brought him back to -
Jim rubbed his hands over his face, and slicked his hair back. He closed his eyes and willed the memory away.
Now that Jim was in the car, it felt unbelievably stuffy. The natural heat of Spock’s body, coupled with their moist breathing and the soaked state of Jim’s clothes, created a miniature sauna within the car.
Jim badly wanted to open the window and gasp for breath, but he couldn’t risk moving. He felt like if he moved, this fragile silence would shatter. All his carefully crafted defences would collapse, and Spock would see how truly pathetic he was.
He managed to sit still through the short car ride. Jim resisted squirming, because the squelching sound his clothes made was seriously not sexy. Not that he was worrying about that.
There was hardly a heartbeat between Spock turning off the engine, and Jim attempting to yank the door open. The entire trip had been a bad idea. Why couldn’t Spock leave him be? Wasn’t Spock’s plea the very same, once?
Searing fingertips shackled Jim’s wrist. Like a caged animal, he whipped around.
“What?”
“I...” For once, Spock appeared to grasp for words. “Regret the imprudent manner in which I conducted our situation.”
Jim’s breath hitched; the small utterance was far too loud in the closed cabin.
Spock’s eyes quietly pleaded for understanding. Fuck, puppy-dog eyes? Jim looked down at their hands; the pale fingers that firmly encircled his wrist. This was the Vulcan equivalent of begging, wasn’t it?
“Christ, you have a way with words.” Jim shook his head, as he lifted his eyes to meet Spock’s. His expression remained guarded, but his voice warmed and cracked slightly with his admission. “I’m sorry, too. Not for -” Jim jerked a shoulder; hoping Spock would understand that he was not in any way sorry for having sex with him.
Spock’s brows descended slightly and his opaque eyes softened; as Jim realised that Spock understood. When the Vulcan opened himself up he seemed to read Jim like a book. Jim plodded on uncomfortably - he wasn’t used to emotional admissions, save for lust or anger.
“I wish I’d... thought things through. Not always my strong point.” Jim sucked in a gulp of breath. Fuck. This would be the last time he threw himself at Spock. After this, he wouldn’t continue to play the game.
His heart had been the one thing James Kirk would never gamble on. Now, he would take the chance.
Jim squirmed in his seat and shifted closer to Spock. He wrenched his wrist free, only to clutch one of Spock’s hands in both of his. Their palms slid unsteadily against Jim’s rain-slick skin.
“Spock. Don’t you feel it too?” He leaned in further, imploring the Vulcan. Jim’s voice raised an octave; in his haste to hurl every confusing emotion he was experiencing straight into Spock. “Don’t you feel like you can’t look away? Like what happened between us wasn’t just a one-off?”
The longer Spock remained still, the further anxiety rose in Jim’s throat. “Dammit, you’re so in control - tell me what you feel!”
Spock’s movement was so lithe, and so smooth, that Jim had little time to register being man-handled. Or, Vulcan-handled.
He had been hefted across the stick shift, and placed on Spock’s lap. His legs stretched out to the seat he’d vacated, and Spock’s arms were around Jim’s middle. That was not the most shocking aspect of the moment, however.
Spock’s forehead was pressed against Jim’s. From the blistering heat of Spock’s skin, warmth bled through. No -it was not the warmth of his skin.
Christ, Jim could feel so much. He gasped for breath - an onslaught of fear, relief, lust, and affection swirled vehemently within his chest. As he opened his eyes wide, Jim’s own confusion melded with the intruding emotions.
Spock’s lids were lowered, with his high cheekbones a brilliant shade of emerald. Jim suddenly realised the Vulcan’s breathing was as laboured as his. Spock’s hand slid from the shirt clinging to his back, and nestled at the nape of Jim’s neck. The Vulcan’s voice swelled, like waves lapping tenderly at Jim’s skin.
“You... Jim, you incapacitate me. I cannot organise my thoughts when you are near. I cannot... breathe. Do you feel this?”
“This -you’re doing this?” Jim pressed his forehead further against Spock’s; and he could swear the beads of rain upon his brow sizzled at their prolonged touch. Their noses bumped companionably; their lips a sliver of breath apart. “Spock,” he murmured; finally allowing his lashes to fall.
Of course this had been how Spock had understood him; in the moments which Jim had failed to properly express himself. He was a telepath. This had been how he’d known exactly where to touch Jim, and what would drive him wild. Heat simmered between his thighs, accompanying the memory. He felt Spock’s lust peak like a sharp heartbeat within his consciousness.
“So basically, you’re saying I drive you as crazy as you do me?”
Spock finally opened his eyes. “Under the circumstances, I believe that your effect on me is more powerful than the reverse.”
Jim found himself ludicrously pleased by this, if not a bit doubtful. He leaned back an inch, and savoured each one of Spock’s poetic features. “You think?”
“I know.”
Large, slender hands skimmed reverently along the muscular plains of Jim’s back. Spock bumped his nose against Jim’s once more; and Jim smiled to himself. He wondered if Spock knew what an Eskimo kiss was; and whether or not he would find it illogical, or simply pretend he found it illogical.
Jim’s lips brushed the delicate skin of Spock’s flushed mouth. “Why don’t we put that theory to the test?”
In a motion that was far clumsier than anything Spock had pulled off, Jim braced his hands upon Spock’s slim shoulders as he swung his leg over; so that he could straddle Spock’s lap.
Jim peered down at Spock’s shirt, which was conveniently soaked through and clinging for dear life. Each lithe muscle was outlined beautifully. Holding his breath Jim reached out, and began to trace the slope of Spock’s collarbone with his fingertips. Spock inhaled sharply. Spurred on by the Vulcan’s reaction, Jim continued his gentle exploration. He grazed his thumbnail over Spock’s nipple.
Spock hissed softly, as his hands settled beneath Jim’s shirt. Without a word, Spock gripped the hem of the sodden garment and pulled it over Jim’s head; where the discarded piece of clothing was tossed into the back seat with a wet plop.
The misplaced sound had a laugh bubbling in Jim’s throat. He bit down on his bottom lip, but found he could not hold back his smile.
Spock, whose fingers had already begun to travel down to the button of Jim’s jeans, raised a lofty brow. “Jim. Kiss me.”
Jim’s laughter dried. His stab of lust was mirrored by the pulsing swell of Spock’s cock, pushing up between Jim’s thighs. Jim had said he wasn’t good at taking orders... but, for Spock. Well. He leaned forward and paused.
“Spock?”
Spock’s expressive brows drew together, a shadow of a pout weighing down his bottom lip. “What?”
“Just to be clear, you’re not my teacher anymore.” Jim didn’t want a repeat of the first time. He was beginning to realise that it wasn’t the end of the world, if he looked to the future of a relationship. In fact, simply attempting to imagine the possibility of a continued relationship left his heart fluttering.
Spock’s lips curved softly. His hands slid up Jim’s slippery torso, and kindled fires across his skin; as he linked his fingers behind Jim’s neck. “Technically, I am not.”
Jim realised how wrong he had been, when he’d imagined he could live without seeing a smile from Spock. His heart did flip-flops, and he was sure it would simply climb up his throat. He resolved to murmur into Spock’s mouth, just before their lips met.
“Oh. Good.”
The kiss was gentle, and potent with every thick, honeyed emotion they felt. Jim sighed softly against Spock’s mouth; his hands still upon Spock’s chest. Spock’s fingers caressed the hard line of Jim’s jaw, and his free hand reached forward to clasp around Jim’s palm.
Jim begrudgingly parted his lips from Spock’s, and peered at their hands quizzically. Spock interlaced their fingers. A heat, like Iowa summer sun, flooded Jim’s palm.
“Although you leave no room for complaints, this was the kiss I referred to.” Spock let go of Jim’s hand; only to begin delicately stroking the length of Jim’s fingertips in a series of slow, languid strokes. “This is how we kiss, on Vulcan.” ‘
Jim worried his bottom lip in concentration. He found himself immediately enamoured with the odd intimacy of the action. In a way, Jim felt he could relate to this form of affection. He’d never held a girl’s hand - hadn’t wanted to.
Jim had never clung to anyone in his life. Now all he wanted to do was hold on to Spock; like the Vulcan was his life raft.
With an experimental thrust of his thumb, Jim pulsed the pad of his finger against the centre of Spock’s palm; and caressed in a slow, small circle. Spock’s entire body jerked in response; and the Vulcan’s cock began to strain between Jim’s thighs once more. Jim grinned like a boy who’d gotten a new toy, and repeated the action.
“So, when you gave me that massage...” Jim continued to splay his fingers across the length of Spock’s, while his other hand was busy with undoing the zipper of Spock’s pants. “You were basically getting your kink on?”
Spock blinked hard; and for a split second Jim could swear the Vulcan was attempting to uncross his eyes. Jim buried a laugh, but his eyes twinkled with twin flashes of amusement and arousal. To know that he could undo someone like Spock filled him with an overwhelming sense of love, and importance. Two emotions which had remained elusive throughout Jim’s life.
“I was not. You implored me for assistance, and I complied.”
Jim leaned forward, and smiled against Spock’s neck. “Oh, was that how it was?” Jim grazed his fingernails down Spock’s palm, and at the same time freed the Vulcan’s cock. He wrapped his hand around the throbbing length.
Spock keened quietly, and his entire body stiffened in response. Once more, he moved with an efficiency and speed that left no time for Jim to understand the movements.
Which was why Jim yelped in surprise, when Spock’s hand left Jim’s as he yanked at the seat-reclining lever, near the car door. The seat went flying back, and Jim was left clinging to Spock’s chest.
He gazed down at Spock. He was caught between a laugh and a moan, when he registered the look of impatient passion painted across Spock’s face.
With great care, and slow drags of palms against wet skin, they undressed each other. Each sopping garment was discarded; and with each minute that passed, their hands and lips savoured each damp inch of each other’s bodies.
Jim shimmied down the seat as best he could. The small of his back was pressed uncomfortably against the steering wheel, but the feeling quickly dwindled. Jim leaned forward and took the cum-slicked head of Spock’s dick into his mouth. Spock’s hips arched in response, and Jim could hear his name slide off the Vulcan’s tongue like a prayer.
The tip of Jim’s tongue greedily explored the double ridge, and his front teeth grazed the head. Spock abdomen shivered.
Spock tasted musky, and vaguely sweet. Jim took as much of the heavy, throbbing cock into his mouth as he could. He suctioned his lips near the base, and dragged his mouth up, tightly -fuck, he could just worship Spock’s dick forever.
Spock had other plans, though. After only a few bobs of Jim’s head, Spock was a writhing mess beneath him.
“Jim. I need you.”
Jim’s heart soared at the plea masked behind the gruffly imparted request. Nothing in the world could tear Jim away from complying.
He eagerly scooted back up, atop Spock’s thighs. He looked down at Spock, entranced by what he saw there. Spock’s eyes were hooded and his expression candid, with his lips swollen and softly parted. His chest heaved with each shallow breath; and his milky shoulders were dusted with a verdant, green hue that shimmered beneath the dewy layer of Jim’s sweat, and rain.
“Spock.” Jim leaned forward, and reached between them to grip Spock’s cock. He aligned the throbbing head with his tight, willing opening. Jim nudged Spock’s nose with his own, and brushed his lips against that moist, searing, Vulcan mouth. “I’ll always need you.”
Jim’s hips descended at the same pace as his tongue into Spock’s mouth. Spock swallowed Jim’s cry; as they moved their hips in tandem and brought slowly Spock into Jim’s tight, unrelenting heat. For a long moment bodies remained pressed flush against each other, their hips undulating shallowly. Spock’s fingers fisted in Jim’s damp, unruly hair; as Jim bit down on the delectable curve of Spock’s shoulder.
One enthusiastic thrust from Spock nicked the edge of blinding pleasure within him. Jim crunched his eyes shut, as he flung himself back with a strangled gasp.
The back of Jim’s head hit the padded roof of the car. He would have laughed, had he not been so intent on the starburst of pleasure orbiting every fibre of his body.
His hips rolled enthusiastically. Spock gave up at attempting a slippery hold on Jim’s thighs; as the he mercilessly rode the Vulcan’s cock. Jim’s mouth was slack, as he gasped for breath inside the muggy car.
In some vaguely lucid corner of his mind, Jim could swear the entire car was rocking; with the force of his pace, and Spock’s heaving hips beneath him.
Spock wrapped his fingers around Jim’s dick, and flicked his thumb across the taut bundle of nerves beneath the head. The earth dropped from beneath Jim, and he was rocketed into oblivion. He slammed his hips firmly down on Spock, taking in every blissful, fiery inch. Jim could feel the powerful spurts of his cock drain him of every coherent thought.
And when the spasms of Jim’s orgasm brought on Spock’s breathtaking climax, Jim finally allowed himself to collapse atop his lover.
For a long moment, the only sounds that filled the air were of ragged breathing. Then the breaths quieted, and the chest which Jim had pillowed his head upon evened out. Jim could feel himself slowly descend back to earth -and Spock was with him.
For a sharp moment, Jim was terrified to speak. He understood what they shared was incredibly special, and the beginning of something he would never forget. But, all the same, he was human. He had fears and doubts. What if he said the wrong thing, once more?
Rather than using his mouth for words, Jim propped himself upon his elbow, and rained light kisses over Spock’s face. Spock’s lashes fluttered, and then lifted. His eyes were the most startling shade of burnished gold.
Spock’s hand shifted, and rested heavily at the nape of Jim’s neck. He frowned. “Never refrain from speaking in my presence, Jim.” He hesitated. “Your choice of words, at integral moments of conversation, may be... unorthodox. But your ability to express yourself remains unparalleled, in comparison to any scholar I have encountered.”
Jim scowled, although the affectionate tone of his voice bellied any true offense. “So, I have a way with words - even though, I don’t know as many as your big, sexy brain? You have some unorthodox pillow-talk, my friend.”
The soft breath from Spock’s nose could have been considered a laugh. “No, Jim. You have a way with your heart.”
Jim could feel his ears burn. He struggled to meet Spock’s eyes, because he knew he was no longer able to shield his emotions. Jim’s tone was tentative. “And you... like that?”
“No.” Spock murmured. “I love it.”