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Amalgamation (5/9)
Always shall be
annenburg
Title: Amalgamation
Chapter: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Warnings: Sexual content, language, AU, hermaphrodism, general blasphemy, etc.
Summary: As a half-Vulcan, Spock never expects to imprint. It's rare enough for a full-blooded Vulcan to imprint, so why should he have it easy? But he does imprint – on the delinquent who sabotaged his Kobayashi Maru. And everything he once knew is about to change.

 

He arrives at sickbay some ten minutes later, altogether unsurprised to find Jim seated at Captain Pike’s side. Spock is momentarily distracted by Pike’s appearance; he has not seen his captain so bedraggled and pale before, and the contrast to the man’s normal vigor is disconcerting, to say the least. Pike seems not to have noticed, an easy smile on his face as Jim talks to him. In spite of the ambient cold of the medical wing, Spock feels a wave of warmth pass over him.

 

Fascinating.

 

The older man does not even need to look up from his conversation to realize Spock is here, waving him over with an easy flick of the wrist. “Don’t just stand there,” he orders, tone amused. Jim twists at the waist to see who he’s talking to, eyes widening when he sees Spock.

 

“Oh, hey,” he says quickly. He begins to rise from his chair, gathering his things at one sleeve. “No worries, I was just clearing out myself. He’s all yours, Commander.”

 

Hearing his title and not his name escape his mate’s mouth is disturbingly painful, and he shakes his head. “You misinterpret,” he replies, remaining where he is. “My intent in coming here was to have a talk with you, Jim.”

 

Jim freezes, half risen from his seat. “You wanted to have a talk with me?” he asks, eyes wide. Spock nods. The human seems to consider this, even as Pike sends Spock an inquiring look. “Uh, not that I don’t want to talk to you, but what do we really have left to talk about?”

 

“There is much to discuss,” Spock says firmly, if a little vaguely. Jim cocks his head in a manner than cannot possibly be comfortable. “Captain, I apologize for interrupting your visit, but—”

 

“—you wouldn’t do it unless it was really important,” Pike finishes for him. Spock nods. “Well, I know you well enough to know that, at least. He’s all yours. I think conference room two is still undamaged; you can talk there.”

 

“I appreciate it,” Spock says, inclining his head. Jim still appears torn, but he settles for following Pike’s not so subtle order, reaching for his bag and approaching Spock. “I will visit you later.”

 

He turns on his heel, Jim following him to the lift. No words are spoken between them until the lift doors open and Spock steps out onto the officers’ residential floor. Jim blinks.

 

“I might not have been on this ship for all that long, but I can be pretty sure this isn’t where conference room two is,” he deadpans, and Spock breathes. Patience will be necessary in dealing with Jim. “Are you going to talk to me or do you plan to blow me out an airlock?”

 

Spock leads him towards his own quarters. “All airlocks are located four decks below us,” he explains needlessly, approaching his door. “This discussion requires more privacy than the conference rooms permit us. We will speak in my private quarters.”

 

He does not look back to Jim. He does not need to. Skepticism flashes through their bond, as well as a small amount of suspicion. “About what?”

 

Spock keys them into his quarters, ushering the human inside. He is unacceptably nervous; his control has not been as it should be for days now. He wishes he could attribute it to the loss of his planet and its people, but he knows that is not the cause. Once Jim is inside, Spock locks the door and gives the code to deny access to all but the chief medical officer. The tiniest hint of alarm rolls off Jim, and Spock feels himself echo it slightly.

 

But this conversation must happen.

 

“Is this about what happened in the hallway a few days ago?” Jim asks, nervousness evident in his voice. Spock feels the tips of his ears fill with blood, even as he schools his face and looks at Jim. The other man is unreadable. “Because seriously, if you want to have sex with me, there are better ways than insisting we ‘talk’. It is the oldest trick in the book and it is overplayed.”

 

The Vulcan shakes his head. “While I do desire to engage in sexual relations with you again, that is not why I have brought you here,” he says with some haste. “I believe we must discuss something of some urgency. I merely wished to ensure this conversation was not overheard.”

 

Jim’s face goes blank. “Something about Nero?” he asks with some trepidation. Spock shakes his head, and the relief is almost palpable. “Okay. What?”

 

And for all the considerations, for the time and thought and nerves, for all the contingencies he’s prepared for, Spock finds himself at an utter loss for words. He has Jim in front of him, has his attention focused on him – and there are no words to be found. His voice is gone.

 

Almost without thinking, he retreats into his own mind, faces the shield he’s erected between their thoughts, and pauses.

 

And then, almost viciously, he rips it down.

 

Jim nearly yelps as Spock’s consciousness invades his own, their minds reaching for one another and entangling once more. There are so many emotions to sift through – confusion, anger, disbelief, joy, rage, and relief pour into Spock through the bond, and he lets them. He relaxes his mind completely, allowing his own thoughts and emotions to flow into Jim’s mind, watching as Jim’s eyes widen to a circumference that cannot be healthy in humans.

 

“What the hell?” Jim manages, clutching his head with both hands. The human reels backwards, knees hitting the bed and buckling. He drops onto his backside, and then rolls onto his back. His eyes stay locked on Spock’s, utter disbelief coursing through his entire being as he gasps.

 

“It will pass,” Spock reassures him as he finds his voice again, though he has no idea whether it actually will. Jim groans, shoulders thrashing on the bed. The Vulcan wants to hold him down or even just hold him while he suffers this, but he knows he cannot. Should not. Will not.

 

But it does pass, and it passes quickly. Jim’s grunts and gasps quickly fade into harsh breaths as he pants in exhaustion. It sends a thrill through Spock, and he moves to sit beside his mate. Slowly, the man’s breaths even out.

 

“That wasn’t talking,” he spits out, eyes still locked on Spock. Spock raises an eyebrow. “Fuck. What did you do to me?”

 

Spock clears his throat, glancing away for a moment as he gathers his words. It is strange how he cannot for the life of him say a thing. There is so much he needs to explain to Jim, and yet the words absolutely abandon him.

 

He feels quite human for a moment.

 

“It is an ancient piece of Vulcan heritage,” he manages, and his choice of words all but disgusts him. He is more articulate than this. “Upon first meeting one’s perfect mate, a bond will instantly form. It is beyond any form of control and unbreakable. And it is never incorrect.”

 

Jim lifts himself up onto his elbows. “I don’t follow.”

 

An odd heat is growing in Spock’s abdomen, and he attempts to ignore it. “You and I, Jim, are irrevocably linked together,” he states as plainly as he can. “We are bondmates. A pair. In the simplest of terms, Jim, we are one. The closest Standard I can access would be ‘soul mates’.”

 

Jim seems to lose muscular control of his jaw for a moment, his already too-wide eyes growing just a fraction. Spock wonders why his own thoughts are so difficult to access, and he can only watch as his mate sits up straight, staring at his face.

 

“Bullshit,” he whispers. And then he dives in to kiss him.

 

For a long moment, Spock is unable to react. The shock rushes through his body, pins and needles in his chest and tension building in his shoulders. But then, abruptly, instinct takes over and he’s kissing Jim back, nearly crushing their lips together in his sudden desire for closeness. His hands travel to his mate’s scalp, fingers digging in as he forces Jim’s head to a better angle.

 

The human groans into Spock’s mouth, hands moving to the hem of the Vulcan’s science blues. They pull back from the kiss long enough for Jim to yank the shirts over Spock’s head, and then they’re devouring each other again. Spock is barely able to breathe as Jim’s hands scrabble over his chest, fisting in the copious hair he finds there even as he pulls away from his mouth, biting over his jaw. Nearly at a loss, Spock reaches down and tugs Jim’s hips against him, moaning as their pelvises meet at last.

 

Jim’s mouth detours suddenly to Spock’s ears, his tongue exploring the whorls and point even as he thrusts slowly against Spock. The Vulcan is torn between continuing this rhythm and removing more of their clothes, and he settles for reaching one hand between them to open Jim’s fly.

 

The moment his hand comes in contact with Jim’s decidedly erect genitals, their already hurried pace accelerates. He cannot possibly touch enough of Jim’s skin, and the same seems true for his mate. Jim’s hands rush over him in a flurry, touching everywhere at once. His mouth is biting and sucking on his neck, and Spock strokes him desperately.

 

He moves to shove Jim’s pants down over his hips, and the dynamic in the room changes. It is as though the climate control system of the room has malfunctioned, cold shooting down Spock’s spine as Jim stills. He blinks as the man’s hands leave him, and suddenly he is being shoved back onto his bed, the other man all but leaping to his feet.

 

“What the fuck?!” Jim shouts, hands shakily refastening his fly. The zipper makes a terrible screeching noise as it is drawn up, and Spock manages to look away from it to Jim’s face. His mate’s expression is terrible – shock, disgust, and anger. Spock sits up, alarmed.

 

“Jim—”

 

“No, god damn it! No!” the man bellows, backing away from the bed. His hands are at his temple again, and Spock immediately moves forward. If his mate is hurting so badly, then it is his responsibility to do what he can to heal him. But Jim shakes his head, holding one hand in front of him as if to ward Spock away. “I said no! Get out of my head!”

 

Spock forces himself to remain where he is. “I am afraid that is impossible,” he explains, trying to keep his tone as even as he can. He is still desperately aroused; his phallus is engorged and between his legs, there is an uncomfortable dampness clouding his judgment. He swallows as he tries to collect himself. “Jim, there is a bond in place between us. I will be ‘in your head’ until one of us dies.”

 

Jim recoils, shaking his head furiously. “Get rid of it,” he demands, slinking along the wall towards the door. When Spock does not respond, another bolt of rage drips from Jim. “I am not kidding around here, Spock. You do not want me, and I am not going to be your ‘soul mate’. Get rid of the bond and get the fuck out of my head!”

 

The Vulcan takes a shaky breath. “I am incapable of removing the bond,” he rasps, watching Jim’s face contort with rage. This is not how it should be, he thinks. Nothing is as it should be. “However, I will block the transference as much as possible.”

 

The expression Jim’s face takes tells him that his offer is not good enough, and it is echoed by the complete resentment that rolls off his mate. Jim heaves a heavy, angry sigh, looking to the door. “Fine. Let me go now, or I’m reporting you to the ‘fleet for sexual assault.”

 

Spock is tempted to remind Jim that he was the one who initiated the intimacy between them this time and that Spock stopped when he asked him to, but he refrains. He gives the command for the door to open, and without so much as a backward glance, Jim bolts from the room, his footsteps echoing in Spock’s ears even after the door closes behind him.

 

The Vulcan is still for a moment, wondering irrationally if Jim will return. But he knows it is absurd to wonder and hope, and he forces himself to stand once more, locating his shirts and pulling them back on.

 

His eyes light on his meditation mat, and he sighs.

 

He has work to do.

NEXT CHAPTER



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D:
I'm thinking Kirk was sexually abused in the past. Oh they have a lot they have to work through.

Pain! I want to cry for Spock at that scene :( I kind of understand Jim's craziness, because hello? That's a lot to take in all in one go. But, poor Spock!

oh no!! i was so happy when i read this:
“Bullshit,” he whispers. And then he dives in to kiss him.

and so devastated when Jim ran away! I can't believe he ran away!!

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