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Author's Chapter Notes:

AN:  Um, yeah. I have this rule that I have to write and post a story 300 words or greater to FFN every calendar moth, just to keep myself writing.  I had a piece in the works for October, but it got held up in the editing process. So, I wrote this piece really quick just to have something to post. I’m so embarrassed by it that I’ve been debating for a week or so whether to post it here, but in the end I decided to do it, if for no other reason than to punish myself for procrastination. Please, DO NOT TAKE THIS AT ALL SERIOUSLY. It’s unbetaed, a total cracktasm, and the one and only time I will use self-insertion.

 

 

No! Not Another Self Inset Fic!

 

The screened-in porch of the Kirk farm was drenched in darkness, the only light being that of a candle flickering in the wind and occasional flashes of lightning.

Spock leaned against the rails, studying his lover who was slumped dejectedly on the porch swing.

“The points you made previously were valid. Although our personalities serve as ideal counterbalances to each other in the command atmosphere, we are ill-suited for a romantic relationship.”

“But, I- how can you say that? We’ve been so good together.” Jim pushed himself to his feet and came to stand in front of Spock, his hands coming up to cup his cool cheeks. “It’s never been like this for me. Not with anyone. It’s so natural. Just like breathing.”

Jim gazed at Spock pleadingly. “I was scared before. I was terrified of what would happen if this blew up in our faces. Command would have transferred you, whether we managed to get over it or not, and I couldn’t run the Enterprise without you.”

Spock gently removed Jim’s hands.

“You are my first priority, Jim,” he said softly, reverently. “Always. I would give anything for you. My property, my reputation, my life. I would traverse the fires of Sho’kel itself to keep you from harm.”

Spock turned and braced himself on the railing, his hands wringing squeals from the weathered wood. 

“It is not the same for you. I will never be first in your life, nor in your heart. I have seen inside your mind, seen the truth of you, and it lies among the stars, on that ship… Being a starship captain is your first, best destiny. I refuse to take it from you.”

“Spock,” Jim said slowly, disbelievingly, “what are you saying?”

Thunder rumbled ominously.

“No, seriously,” Jim demanded, turning to glare at the heavens. “What the fuck is he saying? How OOC is this self-effacing bullshit?”

“Jim?” Spock turned to study his lover in confusion. “That is not your line.”

“I know it’s not. But, really, Spock, I think it’s time we put an end to this romance novel drivel. ”

Thunder cracked once more, the crash thrumming through the ground like a seismic blast.

“Oh, enough with the thunder already,” Jim yelled angrily. “I think it’s safe to call ‘cut!’”

In an instant, the soundtrack of the storm froze, as suddenly as if Jim had flipped a switch.

“There,” Jim said, shooting Spock a relaxed smile. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

The storm clouds parted to allow a single ray of light to shine down from the heavens, casting a warm, soothing glow across the deck.

“Alright,” a feminine voice boomed from the sky, “what the hell is it this time, Kirk? You’ve been fighting me every step of the way on this one.”

“And for good reason!” Jim insisted as he crossed his arms over his chest, head tiled back to squint threateningly at the sliver of light.  “You’re turning us into an Emos!”

“I am not!” the Author squawked indignantly.

“Yes, you fucking are! Spock,” Jim snapped his gaze back to his first, “do you feel like you would ever say something so…” Jim flapped his arms, “ugh?”

“I am unfamiliar with the definition of the term…” Spock paused and almost sniffed in distaste, “’ugh,’ but I presume you mean to express dissatisfaction with my present mode of self-expression.  I must concur with your assessment.” Spock nodded respectfully toward the heavens. “Furthermore, TD, I find it unlikely that Jim would voice such romantic and emotionally revealing sentiments.”

“Oh, come on, Spock. You can’t deny that there’s truth in everything I’m having you guys say. Kirk’s way too attached to his Command to ever truly commit to you, and you’ve got an inferiority complex a mile wide.”

“Yes, but I believe the dialogue you have written here is unnecessarily melodramatic and trite.”

“Yeah!” Jim added. “And this whole ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ bit? Could you get more cliché?”

The air trembled in disbelief.

“Everyone’s a critic,” the Author grumbled.

The scenery gradually faded, until Kirk and Spock were left standing a seemingly endless field of rippling grass, the sky a bright blue above them.

Fine.” The Author demanded almost sulkily, “What do you two think should happen?”

“How about this?” Jim grinned mischievously, and quickly closed the (already negligible) distance between himself and his first officer.

 “Spock! I accidently inhaled alien sex pollen; if I don’t have wildly kinky and acrobatic sex in the next thirty minutes my heart is going to explode! Take me now, you green devil you!” Jim said, affecting a breathy tone as he threw the back of his hand up to his forehead and fell backwards, forcing Spock to catch him.

“And you think that’s in character?” the Author replied dryly.

Spock nearly huffed in annoyance as he tugged Jim upright once more. “I must concur with TD, Jim. This is not only most irregular behavior, but also a shameful indulgence of instant gratification and the “aliens made them do it” troupe. You know this particular Author attempts avoids both at all costs.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Jim whined. “I’m horny.”

He pulled Spock into a sizzling kiss, his hands reaching down to grasp Spock’s perfectly toned ass. He hauled his sometimes-lover against him with an appreciative moan and rocked his groin against Spock’s.

“Boys,” the Author snapped, “as much as I like to narrate you two going at it, I’m trying to write an actual plot intensive story here.”

Jim ripped himself away from Spock with a doubtful snort. “Please, like you’ve ever been able to pull that off before.”

“Well, maybe I would be able to if someone didn’t hijack my stories with sex and fluff every – Hey. Hey! I said cut it out!”

Jim blissfully tuned out the Author’s bitching as Spock nibbled and licked his way down the length of Jim’s neck. “Oh, god. Don’t st- AH! STOP!

Jim and Spock jumped away from each other as a stream of frigid water fell from the sky, drenching them in a matter of seconds.

“That’s what you get when you try to coerce me into writing a porn-fic you lusty bastard!”

Jim glowered at the sky mutinously. “You bitch! I help fuel your erotic fantasies for over two years and this is all the thanks I get? I ought to-“

Jim choked to a sudden stop as he caught sight of Spock, who had begun stripping his wet shirt from his torso, his muscles rippling tantalizingly beneath a sheen of water.

“Never mind,” he amended, a slow grin curving his plush lips. “You’re my favorite-est Author ever.”

“Oh, for the love of…”

With a flash, Spock was clad in fluffy, multicolored bathrobe that appeared to have been constructed out of the hides of thousands of tribbles.   

“Don’t be cruel to the man,” Jim pleaded with a grimace. “I’ll be good. Promise.

The air was still for a moment, then another flash filled the glade. Spock inspected the traditional Vulcan tunic and breeches the Author had clothed him in with satisfaction.

“My thanks, TD.”

“No problem. Just keep at least four feet between you and Jim until I say otherwise, ‘kay?”

Spock studied his captain doubtfully. “I shall attempt it, but—“

“Yeah, yeah. The attempt is all I’m asking for.”

Jim pouted. “Would you two quit acting like I don’t have any self control? I lusted after Spock for three years while he was dating Uhura without making a single pass at him, thank you very much.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “You do not consider groping me at every possible opportunity a ‘pass?’”

“That was-“

“And what about offering to give him pointers on oral sex? With a hands on demonstration?”

“Any decent friend-“

“Or flirting with me so brazenly the Colakichtxs believed we were undergoing mating rights?”

“I flirt with everyone!”

“Yes,” Spock agreed darkly, his voice shot through with a sexy, possessive rumble. “Indeed, you do.”

“Oh, come on,” Jim protested. “How the hell can you expect me to keep my hands to myself when you slip little details like that into the narration?”

“Sorry,” the Author offered a bit sheepishly. “Couldn’t help myself. Posessive!Spock is yummy.”

When Spock quirked a brow, the Author cleared her throat. “Right, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah-- that story you two refuse to let me write.”

“Can’t you just start a new one?”

“I already have. Three of them! I get two or three hundred words in before suddenly hitting a wall. You guys keep thwarting my attempts at every turn.”

“Why are you blaming this one me? Like I have any control over what an Author writes. If I did, you can bet I’d’ve never ever ended up a story where I got knocked up.” Jim shuddered in revulsion, and took a step closer to Spock, as if his lover might be able to protect him from such a plot (despite the fact that Spock was usually the one who did the knocking.)

“That is a valid argument,” Spock said.

“You know I’d never do that to you,” the Author assured Jim swiftly.

“You better not.”

There was a pause.

Unless…”

“No. Don’t even.”

“But Jimmy-poo, if you won’t let me write my multi-chapter fic, or finish up my challenge pieces, or even get started on ‘Unsaid,’ what else am I supposed to write?”

Jim gawped at the sky incredulously.

It was Spock who responded. “Am I to understand that you are attempting to coerce us into cooperating with this latest fanfiction venture by threatening to impregnate Jim?”

“Silly Vulcan. I’m not coercing you. I’m merely offering a compelling incentive for good behavior.”

“The term ‘incentive’ is—“

“Call it what you want, honey. Bottom line is if you and Jim don’t start toeing the line, one of you is going to end up carrying quintuplets.”

“You talentless waste of archival space!” Jim shouted indignantly.

“Careful with the rhyming there, buddy.”

“You must remain calm, Jim,” Spock said with alarm. He unsuccessfully attempted to quiet his lover; Jim threw off his restraining hands easily.

“I can’t believe you’d have so little respect for us that you’d even threaten something so horrible! You have no integrity as a writer.”

“Watch yourself, Jimmy.”

“Fuck you! You can’t write believable story lines, your description of setting is sadly lacking, you suck at characterization, and your grasp of canon is tenuous at best!”

The sky began to darken.

“No. Please, Jim,” Spock tugged at Kirk’s arm imploringly, “do not anger her.”

“You--You’re no better than Stephanie Meyer.”

The ground began to shake. In an instant, the sun became as black a sack-cloth, and the pale reflection of the moon became as red as blood.

“You did NOT. Just compare me. to STEPHANIE! MEYER!” the Author boomed deafeningly.

“Yes, I did you sorry Sue-writing excuse for an Author! You can’t even come up with an original idea for your own apocalypse! You stole this from Revelations!”

The scene stilled for a moment.

“Actually, I stole it from Ghost Busters...” The earthquake picked up again, nearly swiping Jim and Spock’s feet from beneath them. “BUT THAT DOESN’T MATTER! YOU WILL BOW BEFORE ME IN SUPPLICATION OR YOU SHALL NEVER HAVE SEX WITH SPOCK AGAIN!”

“Jim, blue-balls are fatal to my race. You must apologize.”

“No! She can’t get away with this!”

“AND THERE WILL BE NO MORE MINDMELDS! OR CHOCOLATES! SO SAYETH THE AUTHOR."

“What the hell is going on here?”

 In an instant, the scenery returned to normal.

“Jim,” The Author laughed nervously, “what, ah—What are you doing here?”

Kirk Prime crossed his arm sternly and stared down the heavens.

“Answer my question, TD. That’s an order.”

“There’s nothing. Nothing’s going on. We were just having a—a chat. Right guys?”

Jim mimicked his elder self’s posture, but effectively ruined the pose with a shit-eating grin.

“It certainly didn’t sound like nothing,” Kirk Prime said.  He turned his gaze onto his and Spock’s nu! counterparts. “Care to explain?”

“TD here was trying to convince us to cooperate with a new story of hers,” Jim rocked back and forth on his heels with glee, “by threatening to put us on stork watch.”

Kirk Prime’s eyes narrowed. He turned to the heavens with a terrifying glower.

What?”

“I, ah—I was just kidding. Honest. You know me, Jim. I’d never do that to you. In any incarnation. It was just a joke! You know, funny, ha ha? You should’ve seen their…”

Kirk Prime propped his hands on his hips. 

Pleasedon’tkillme.”

“Put them back in the Green Room right now.”

“Yessir.”

“Hey! Wait—“ Jim protested, but it was too late. He and Spock vanished in a poof of glitter.

Kirk Prime cocked his head to the side as he glared up at the heavens.

“If I ever hear about you threatening them with MPreg ever again I’ll make your writer’s block permanent. Understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Now, you’re going to conjure me up a beach with sand that doesn’t get stuck in uncomfortable places, a perpetual sunset, a tray of chocolate covered strawberries, vibrating massage gloves, lube and an open to suggestion Spock Prime.”

The beach materialized first, the sands white and water almost impossibly blue. The sun quickly descended until it was split in half by the horizon line, casting the sky into a fiery riot of color. Kirk turned his gaze further up-shore, where two palm trees sprouted into maturity in a matter of seconds. A hammock appeared, strung up between them and cradling a naked, thoroughly aroused Spock. A low table sporting the requested items appeared next to the hammock.

Kirk grinned lasciviously. 

“Perfect,” he growled. “Now, if you’re a very good girl, I’ll let you narrate.”

The End

You don’t write Kirk Prime; Kirk Prime writes you.

Chapter End Notes:

AN: Absolutly no offence was intended towards people who write/read/enjoy MPreg. It's not my thing, but to each thier own.

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