Dec 012009
 

Title: The Only Time
Fandom: ST XI
Characters: Kirk, Spock
Rating: M
Warnings: This is kind of ugly. Dark themes, implied violence.
Notes: Jesus bleed on me. Remind me never to listen to NIN while writing Spock. Sorry, this is probably way the hell darker than the OP wanted.


From this prompt:
K/S: one of them sitting on the other’s lap.

Interpret how you want: Wild lap sex? H/C? Fluffy snuggly times? De-aged kid!fic?

I’ll take anything.


Shore leave on Risa — it was a planet that was supposed to have something for everyone. But, for some reason, Spock had found himself compelled to come to this slummy dive bar with the captain. It might’ve been because he knew McCoy wasn’t coming, and someone needed to look after Kirk. The man was a magnet for the worst in any species — especially after a few drinks.

At this point, Kirk had drunk more than a few drinks. He was dancing with an Andorian of indeterminate gender, in a particularly sexual fashion. So far, not too bad, although Spock kept his eyes open, looking for that Andorian’s potential mate or sibling, who would be more than happy to inflict harm on the captain.

And then the music changed. The DJ announced it, since it was a request. "This one’s an oldie! A rarity from the late twentieth century, just for you, Jim!"

And while Spock was busy watching the DJ, Kirk was busy sneaking up on the distracted Vulcan. Spock’s first notification that Kirk had crept up on him was when the captain slid bonelessly into his lap. As they made contact, Kirk’s arms wrapped around Spock’s neck, and the captain leaned in to sing along, into his first officer’s temptingly pointed ear.

"I’m drunk, and right now I’m so in love with you…"

Spock could feel his eyebrow launch upward, like an independent construct. He wasn’t certain it was possible to sprain that muscle, but if it was, he’d just done it.

"Captain, you have had more than sufficient alcohol, this evening. I suggest we leave the premises at once. You should probably attempt to sleep this off."

Kirk leaned back, touching Spock’s nose with his own, and gazing drunkenly directly into the Vulcan’s slightly panicked eyes. No emotions, his ass. "Nothing quite like the feel of something new…"

Spock attempted to stand, to drop the captain on the floor, but Kirk came with him, as he rose, legs wrapping around his waist. "Captain, this is most uncomfortable."

"It’ll be less uncomfortable with your arm under me," Kirk purred into Spock’s ear, with the confidence of a man who is only rarely turned down. "Take me to bed, Spock. You’re definitely right that it’s where I should go. And stop calling me ‘Captain’. We’re not on duty. I’m just Jim."

The sensation was like nothing Spock had ever felt. He wanted to crawl backward out of his skin, in disgusted horror, but at the same time, the warm tingle that rolled up through his belly and slid down to his knees was rather pleasant. The smell of Kirk’s skin rattled loosely inside his head, making contacts that had never been made, urging him to … well, he wasn’t quite certain how all the pieces went together, but he got the impression it would be quite forceful and extremely satisfying. Human lusts and Vulcan strength were probably a terrible combination.

He took a deep breath, hands clenching so hard and fast that his knuckles popped, and propped the captain up on one arm. "I am taking you back to your room, Ca— Jim. And I will be staying in the hall until I am certain you are asleep. You will not be wandering about, in this condition."

Kirk waited until they were headed back to the hotel, before he spoke again. It was only a block or two from where they were, and Spock’s Vulcan strength would support him that far. He had the impression that if he just pushed a little harder…

"Why stay in the hall, Spock? If you want to be sure I stay in, you should keep me there."

With a low growl — so low it might’ve just been a sound of exertion — Spock turned and pressed Kirk’s back flat against the wall of the building they were walking past.

"Do. Not. Push. Me." Both of his hands pressed against the wall, to either side of Kirk’s head. "You do not know what I am capable of, and neither do I. The difference is that I do not want to know."

Kirk was oddly silent until they reached the hotel. He thumbed the lock on the door, which slid open and then shut, and then Spock was dumping him on the bed. He held on, still. Both arms wrapped around Spock’s neck.

"Please, stay. I’m sorry. I won’t—" His hands slid down, as Spock stepped forward, coming up onto his knees on the bed, kneeling across Kirk’s lap.

"No," Spock said, smoothly, cocking his head, "I don’t suppose you will."

The cockiness bled out of Kirk’s face, to be replaced with the beginnings of what might have been awe.

"Lay down, Jim. It has become clear to me that the only way to keep you in bed is to sit on you. You will get sleep, tonight, and I presume this ludicrous behaviour will have ceased by the time you wake."

"Are you so sure it’s lud— lud— ridiculous? Is it really out of character? I’ve always been good at making you respond." Kirk smiled up at Spock, hands settling on the Vulcan’s hips as his own hips rolled.

Spock shoved, knocking Kirk onto his back. "You do not want this."

"Tell me what I’m asking for, don’t tell me what I want!" Kirk shouted.

And Spock closed his eyes, planted his hands firmly on Kirk’s shoulders, and leaned down to whisper. His fingers bruised the skin beneath them as he described every feverish demand that his too-human mind made of his pleasingly Vulcan body. He ground out every puerile violation he was driven to commit, but that he had and would continue to resist. And as he rose, fully back to his knees, it was the first of two words from Kirk’s mouth that halted his ascent.

"Yes, please."