"James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man. He went on to captain the U.S.S. Enterprise... but that was another life.”
Jim had Nero in his head.
Ordinarily he’d be the first to admit this would be cause for concern. One, obviously, because hearing voices in one’s head was hardly ever a good thing, even in the 23rd century. Two, because Nero wasn’t exactly a pillar for robust mental health. Or a pillar for anything, really, except how to be a mass murdering sociopathic asswipe, but Jim digressed.
The point was, in another universe, in another time, a Jim Kirk had been a ‘great man’, and as shocking as this would be to anyone who knew him, Jim was a mite bit competitive. Just a tad…. Okay, okay, he was a whole hell of a lot competitive. Even with himself.
Especially with himself.
If that other Jim Kirk had been great, well, he was going to be nothing short of amazing.
The newly appointed Captain of the Constitution Class USS Enterprise NCC-1701 looked down at his PADD at the list of close to 1,100 crew members. By the time he was done every last name, from the senior staff to the maintenance crew, would be ingrained in his brain. He didn’t care if he had to miss a couple nights of sleep for it all to get crammed in there.
His crew was considered the best of the Fleet, they deserved a Captain who knew them all by name.
Scotty looked at him like he had grown a second (and perhaps a third) head.
In the back of Jim’s mind he wondered just how crazy he must come off to have Scotty- Mr. I-think-using-an-admiral’s-prize-beagle-f
or-an-untested-transport-beaming-theory-is-a-swell-idea - look at him that way, maybe Jim really was a bit off his rocker, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it too long.
Anyone who accepted the kind of responsibility he had - the responsibility of over a thousand lives - was a little bit of a masochist anyway, so it probably wasn’t the best idea to dwell.
“Let me get this straight? You want access to all of the engineering schematics?” Scotty asked. His chief engineer’s hesitancy would be obvious even to a tribble, which, as far as Jim knew, had no eyes or ears. And Jim didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that while he was fairly certain Scotty liked him, Jim had gotten him off Delta Vega after all and had gone to bat with Archer just to get Scotty as his Chief Engineer, that like did not extend to Jim sticking his nose into Scotty’s engine room. Jim wouldn’t be the least surprised if he came into engineering one day to find Scotty marking his territory… as lovely as that mental image was.
A bit of diplomacy in the here and now probably wouldn’t go amiss.
“I’m not trying to intrude, Scotty. I just want the knowledge, so if you’re ever trying to explain something to me, or we’re ever in a crunch and you need my help, I’ll know exactly what’s going on with m-… our ship.”
True, the ‘you’re one wild and crazy, guy’ look didn’t quite leave Scotty’s face, but at least he nodded and did what Jim asked, bending over his PADD to send multiple files to Jim.
Jim had some more memorization to add to his rapidly growing list.
Lieutenant Uhura looked at him with obvious concern.
Jim wondered if it was a side effect of his low blood sugar and sleep deprivation that he was as moved by that as he was (especially considering his and Uhura’s rather rocky start early on in their acquaintance). Like, he had to fight the urge to smile sappily at her like an overly sentimental idiot, that’s how touched he was by it.
Definitely the sleep deprivation.
Oh he wanted to gain her friendship, wanted it badly, that wasn’t the issue, it was the schmaltzy urge to swoon a bit that he had a problem with. Reputation to uphold and all that.
To be fair though, he had more stock in gaining her friendship than he should have. Ever since he had become Captain she had shown him nothing but the respect his position required, ever the consummate professional. And, in turn, he considered her a bit of a moral compass. If he could win her over, he had made it.
That and the two of them had a friend in common.
Although Spock and Uhura had never resumed their romantic liaison once they had started this new mission, they had remained close friends, practicing their music together every so often. Meanwhile Jim had thrown himself full throttle into getting to know Spock, positive that the two of them together - the combination of Spock’s logic and Jim’s ingenuity, Spock’s bad assery and Jim’s stunning good looks - could positively conquer the galaxy.
Anyone who crossed them was going to rue the day. Rue it. Eventually… right now he had a double shift to attend to.
He flashed his head of linguistics a tired grin, and got a raised eyebrow in response. Spock was clearly a terrible influence on her.
“Captain, are you alright? You don’t look like… yourself,” she said as he walked past her on the way towards his chair, her voice soft so as not to be overheard by the rest of the bridge personnel.
“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” he replied, wincing as it came out inordinately cheerful, even to his own ears, as if he were some kind of… morning person. Good god, how disturbing.
No wonder she was worried.
Her expression grew even more concerned and Jim couldn’t fault her for it, but he didn’t know what to say to pacify her. He had so, so much to do. He would catch up on sleep, and eating, and, you know, breathing, once he discovered his norm.
Such a thing had to come eventually, even for Starship Captains. Right?
The sting of the hypo came out of nowhere, and Jim whirled around and glared at his CMO.
The man was lucky Jim adored him, otherwise the old nautical punishment of ‘walking the plank’ was going to be reenacted using an airlock. He could take Bones, he totally could… once the corridor stopped spinning like a nausea inducing carnival ride.
He leveled his friend with his best scowl. Bones was… less than impressed. The doctor gave his captain a level stare, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. What, did Spock pull everybody aside and show them how to do the eyebrow thing?
Just what was with that?!
“Sleep aid. Something you desperately need by the way. What are you doing, Jim? You look like a ghost!”
“I’ve been busy! New captain, new mission, any of this ringing any bells?”
Jim didn’t think it was possible to look more unimpressed than Bones had before, but then again his friend did take particular glee in proving Jim wrong in all things, and apparently increasing levels of unimpressed and the corresponding facial expressions weren’t an exception. Bones had always been particularly gifted at emoting his displeasure, it was part of his charm... most of the time. Other times (like when Jim was the one on the receiving end of it) ‘charming’ wouldn’t exactly be the adjective he’d use to describe it.
The look his friend shot him then would have a lesser man moving to stop, drop and roll to escape the laser fire beams of death emanating from the patent pending ‘Jim, you’re an idiot’ eyes.
“It would be kind of hard to be an effective Captain if you wind up passing out on duty,” Bones pointed out reasonably, his voice deceptively calm.
Calm, on Bones, was actually when the Doctor was at his most scary.
Jim winced, clarity seeping though his days’ old haze. If Bones was this mad, Jim must really look like shit.
“The drugs in your system will kick in after fifteen minutes, I suggest you get to bed,” the Doctor continued, using that special Bones’ tone that said, without saying, ‘just try to fight me on this, I dare you’.
“And when you wake up, I expect you to eat a full meal. No exceptions. I will relieve you of duty if you don’t do it, do not test me on this Jim, I’m not in the mood. It pisses me off that you’ve let it get this bad. No sense of self preservation at all, I swear to God! You’re going to send me to an early grave, you god-damned idiot!”
Jim nodded in acquiesce, what choice did he have? He wasn’t at his best at the moment, he could admit it. He would put up a better argument about being an adult, and Bones’ boss, and how the doctor was so not getting a good review this quarter, or possibly ever, later. As CMO Bones did have the authority to relieve him of duty. His tour of the science lab would have to wait a few hours, that was all.
Jim turned to leave - too tired to get the last word, as he normally would have when Bones got like this, just for the principle of the matter - as Bones asked a hesitant… “Jim?”
Jim stopped, but didn’t turn around. The little energy he had left was rapidly seeping out of him. He knew he should have had that sixth cup of coffee that morning, it might have helped him to last a bit longer…
“When was the last time you took care of other… needs?”
Jim thought about that, and thought some more. And then he thought even harder, which was a terrible sign if there ever was one.
A horrible sense of foreboding overcame him.
He had made the decision not to try to seduce any of his crew when he’d accepted the Captaincy. He didn’t want to make any move that could later come back and bite him in the ass, and lately he’d been developing a bit of a thing for his first officer. So it was easier to stick to his ’hands off’ policy when there was only one person out of 1100 that he wanted to be ‘hands on’ with, and that person had three times his strength and a super ninja neck pinch of death at his disposal, more than enough of a reason to stay away despite Jim’s natural inclination to touch. But self pleasure? There was the hearing, then Nero, then the weeks crawling back to Earth on impulse, then meetings, meetings, promotion, more meetings, and then finally, leaving on their mission all those months ago…
The epiphany hit like a blow to the head.
“The Academy,” he whispered, dazed. Had it really been that long? Maybe Bones was right, he had let this whole ‘throw himself into the job thing’ go too far. If a man didn’t even take the time out to masturbate… what a sick state to be in, sick. It wasn’t natural.
“Jesus, kid,” Bones ground out.
Jim gave a helpless shrug and continued down the corridor towards his quarters, now completely despondent. Some amazing captain he turned out to be. More like the galaxy’s most repressed captain. What an awful thing to happen, just awful. Shouldn’t happen to anyone. God damned Nero and his stupid “great man”…
Jim was so lost to his thoughts that he never noticed his First Officer standing in the entry way of his own quarters, eyeing his captain with clarified intent.
He woke to the feel of his boxers, the only thing he usually slept in, being pulled down.
Jim would have jumped a mile high, undoubtedly breaking some kind of record, and he was certain the speed his heart was pumping out blood couldn’t be healthy, but a strong, warm hand on the center of his chest restrained him. The sight of glossy black hair, scarcely distinguishable from the darkness surrounding it, had him sinking back into his mattress with disbelief.
Spock? Was this a dream? If so it was already starting out as a great one, maybe even a top fiver, nudging the one of Professor Spock giving him a bare bottom spanking for being a bad, bad boy into the sixth slot...
Just what the hell kind of sleep aid had Bones given him anyway? Whatever it was, if it induced fantasies like this one, Jim would hereby demand a lifetime supply!
Spock brought the boxers to Jim’s knees, his face inches above Jim’s crotch. A hot gust of breath escaped Spock’s lips, caressing him, and Jim felt himself go from interested to hard and aching in milliseconds.
Not a dream. Absolutely not a dream. No dream erection could possibly come with the welcome pain of this one, the sweet torture of a poor neglected phallus finally getting stimulation after months of cruel, thoughtless abandonment.
Whatever Spock had planned, and Jim hoped that plan included mouth-to-dick resuscitation, Jim wasn’t going to last long, he knew this, there was no way he could. He only hoped Spock didn’t judge him too harshly for it.
“Jim?” Spock asked, paused, however briefly. A request for permission. Sweet of Spock, really. Great sentiment and all that. Consent was always a good thing, always. But at this point anything keeping Spock from doing wicked, wicked things to Jim’s cock right-this-very-second-so-help-him-god was beyond annoying.
Jim didn’t care what brought them here, what had motivated Spock to fulfill any fantasy Jim had allowed himself during all of those double shifts to keep him from drifting off to sleep in his chair, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not now. Not with every pulse point in his body racing to the beat of “about fucking time, Jim! Emphasis on the ‘fucking’.”
“Yes!” he answered, throwing his head back, baring his neck and thrusting up his pelvis as much as Spock’s hand, still on his chest, would allow when Spock’s mouth closed around the head of his dick.
Jim’s body began shaking uncontrollably, every muscle taut with anticipation. Spock let them sit like that for a second, with Jim straining, wanting, Spock completely still with that hot, hot mouth enclosed no further than his tip, and then, suddenly, with all the grace of a predator, Spock swallowed him down to hilt.
Jim felt hot, hot heat around him, felt a wet, sandpaper tongue lap him once, twice, and then he whited out, his body spasming while he came, little flashes of light dancing and blinking on and off behind his eyelids.
Spock didn’t move from his spot, drinking him down, suckling him, taking everything Jim had to offer.
A swallower. Christ, Spock couldn’t be more perfect if he tried. Fantasy hadn’t even come close.
For moments Jim didn’t speak, lay there frozen, afraid to speak, petrified of scaring Spock away should he dare ask for an explanation. His body still shivering in aftershock.
Spock released Jim from his mouth and removed his hand from Jim’s chest, caressing Jim’s skin softly as he moved the hand across him and allowed it to rest on the bed beside him. The other hand came to rest on the other side and Spock moved himself up, stopping prone above Jim, those dark eyes meeting his own.
A dozen warring questions flashed through Jim’s brain, each vying for attention, but Jim just shook his head, looking at Spock somewhat desperately.
‘Whatever it is you want, you can have it. Whatever you came here for, I’ll give it to you. But please don’t less this be over. Please don’t less this be a rare moment of insanity on Spock’s part. God, Spock, God. More?’
Dark eyes flashed with understanding, and Spock adjusted himself again, allowing his pelvis to sink a little. Jim felt an unmistakable hardness brush against his belly, and thrust up a little, to feel it against him more fully, not bothering to repress a moan.
He still didn’t know what to say. He still feared, more than he’d ever feared anything, that anything he said would break the spell of the moment, or wake him from the most vivid hallucination of his life, but he had to know. He had to.
Curiosity would always be his downfall. Were he a cat, and if curiosity really did wreck a bit of havoc on the lifespan of the species, he would have used up all nine of his lives by the age of two.
“In another life, Jim Kirk was a great man. Nero told me that. I think some of that greatness, at least in part, was because he, too, had a Spock.”
A question within a statement. Spock was a smart guy, the smartest Jim knew, he trusted Spock to get what he really meant.
“Our destinies are not theirs,” Spock said at last, his voice piercing the the dark, accompanied only by the rhythm of Jim’s racing heart.
His trust in Spock was not misplaced.
“No,” Jim agreed. The future was what you made it, he believed that now as he ever had. But the two of them were both explorers, both knowledge seekers, both brave, and bold, smart, and passionate. Their two personalities, being what they were, was the type to make extraordinary things happen. In all ways.
He wanted it, wanted Spock. And for more than sixty seconds of release long overdue.
It was Spock’s call.
“I have come here to entice your body, as you have already enticed my heart.”
...and the best call Spock had ever made, ever.
It was everything Jim wanted to hear.
He reached mindlessly at for the bottle of lotion atop his nightstand, his eyes never leaving Spock’s. His fingers fumbling with the lid, with bringing it between them to squeeze some onto his hand, dropping the bottle carelessly to the floor as he spread the lotion between both hands and then reached for Spock without a smidgen of hesitancy.
He encased Spock with both hands, watching as Spock’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, feeling strong, and powerful and desired as he moved his hands across an alien cock similar enough in shape to his own that he knew just what to do with it.
There would be time for visual examination later. Right now he would make it so good for Spock the Vulcan would never doubt the boldness he’d exhibited by coming to Jim's bed unannounced.
Jim allowed his hands to stroke tirelessly, coating Spock thoroughly, no patch of skin left of uncovered, delighting, for a moment of the feel of Spock in his hands, before moving them away and allowing them to rest atop one another above his head, tilting his pelvis up again in signal and spreading his knees wide.
The gleam of desire, want, and possession that lit Spock’s eyes just then was enough to significantly shorten Jim’s refractory period from ‘give me an hour’ to ‘let’s do this again, right the fuck now, thank you’.
Spock only paused a minute before moving one hand to grasp himself and guide himself to the cleft of Jim’s ass, letting the mushroom head tease the crack of for a bit, rub, get the surrounding skin lubed, before pausing for a moment, a breath passing between them, and shoving his way home with one single, powerful thrust, forceful enough to rock Jim back against the head of the bed.
It burned, oh it burned. Jim had gone too long between encounters, and they hadn’t stretched him beforehand, hadn’t bothered in their haste, but Spock was lubed, had gone in effortlessly, and Jim welcomed the pain, it reminded him he was alive, alive and in the moment, getting something he wanted so desperately it almost hurt more than any physical aching ever could. No, the stinging reminded him that he was lucid, and that this moment, with his new lover inside of him, and around him, would not be taken away with dawn's undaunted approach.
Spock waited a beat, then another, his eyes holding Jim’s gaze as if through hypnosis, and when Jim’s impatience got the better of him, he squeezed his ass cheeks together and smiled roguishly when Spock took in a sharp breath.
“You tease?” Spock breathed.
“It’s only teasing if I don’t plan to deliver, I assure you, I always deliver,” Jim responded, gasping as Spock pulled out a bit, then pushed back in, hitting just the right spot.
Jim groaned and Spock’s eye lit with a combination of challenge, lust, and affection. It took Jim’s breath away.
Of all the emotions Jim had elicited within Spock, and had since the day they had met, these newest three were his favorite.
Their lives would never, ever be dull... especially not in this.
Spock moved again, then again, as Jim moved his hands to grasp Spock’s ass, feeling it clench and release as Spock moved within him, then closed his eyes tight and allowed his cognisance to be overcome by sensation.
Jim woke to the wonderful smell of fresh coffee and maple syrup and an empty bed, rising to a sitting position in panic, his heart racing at the potential of having been abandoned, he felt himself exhale at the sight of his First sitting at his table, head bent as he read from the PADD in hand, and breakfast for two laid out before him.
Jim opened his mouth to say good morning, lover, complete with a soft purr but what came out instead was, “How did you know? How did you know I needed you? How did you know I wanted you?”
Spock’s eyes rose to meet his, and the way Spock looked at him then, his reading quickly forgotten, made anyone who claimed that Vulcans couldn’t feel the most obvious of all liars.
“I did not know, but I waited for the moment when your defenses were down and I thought you would be least likely to spurn my interests in you. I... took a chance.”
Simple answer, so honest it hurt.
Jim amended his earlier thought process. They were both explorers, both knowledge seekers, both brave, and bold, smart, and passionate... and they were both a little bit broken.
But that was okay, they had each other now. And as long as that remained the case, it would always work out. He wouldn’t accept anything less. He knew with instinctual astuteness that Spock wouldn’t either.
Jim flashed Spock a smile, told the Vulcan with his eyes that, when it came to Spock, Jim was always a sure thing, and got up to join Spock at the table.
Maybe one day history would consider him a great man. Maybe not.
It was going to be an enjoyable ride regardless.