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Amalgamation (8/9)
More than you think you are
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.


Nyota’s words stay with him that night. It is the first night he is unable to sleep at all, and his attempts at meditation do not assist either. He does paperwork, and when the next night comes and he is still unable to sleep, he reads the reports filed by engineering.


Another night, and he is exhausted. But every attempt he makes to sleep fails, and he cannot fathom why. He makes it through his fourth shift without sleep and without incident.


And when he returns to his quarters after, he falls.




Spock awakens in a slight haze. His internal chronometer is inaccessible, his senses spinning, and he blinks. His lights are on, albeit they are dimmed to approximately 65% normal levels, and his mouth is dry.


In the periphery of his vision, he detects some movement, and he turns to examine whatever it might be. His father’s gaze meets his, and he feels his brows furrow. He attempts to ask why he is here, but his throat is too dry. All that escapes is a quiet, rasping breath.


“You have been unconscious for two days,” his father supplies, his tone revealing nothing else. He offers Spock a glass of water, which he accepts. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at his father, and the older Vulcan looks right back through him. “Dr. McCoy believes it is likely due to your lack of sleep over the past week. Why did you not inform me that you were unable to rest appropriately?”


Spock does not answer, instead slowly sipping the water. His father watches, obviously waiting for a response, and when none comes, he raises an eyebrow.


“I take it Jim has not been willing to converse with you,” he surmises, and Spock nods, swallowing his drink. His parched throat floods with relief, and he coughs once to clear his windpipe of sleep. He does not think to ask how his father has determined his imprint’s identity.


“He is unnaturally stubborn,” he says, voice still hoarse and a little quieter than he had intended. His father is silent. “He is not prepared for the level of commitment the bond entails, and the concept of having someone in his mind at all times is…unappealing to him. Physical intimacy does not seem to be a problem for him. However, it is difficult not to take advantage of him.”


His father nods. “I can only suggest again that you wait for him,” he advises, taking the empty glass from him. Spock closes his eyes as his father turns to walk back to the sink. His mind is in complete disarray, but the blocks he constructed to isolate his mind from Jim’s are still in place. He hears his father return, opening his eyes again.


“I do not even want him,” he murmurs. His father nods. “I could never have chosen him of my own volition. There are so few similarities between us; we hardly seem compatible.”


His father hands him another glass of water. “You must recall, I had a similar experience with your mother,” he reminds the younger Vulcan. Spock sips the beverage. “Your compatibility will become evident in time.


Spock feels an odd bubbling sensation in his chest. It nearly aches, and he swallows, trying to quell it. “He makes me feel crazy,” he confesses, unable to look at his father. “He infuriates me. He is irrational and bases his decisions on illogical processes. I cannot understand him. I could never understand him, and I do not believe I will ever understand what is between us.”


“You will,” his father assures him. He shakes his head.


“When I see him, my mind empties,” he says, his own voice sounding foreign to him. “Even after he causes me anger, I cannot remain angry with him. When I disregard his wishes, I cannot control the guilt I feel. It is…maddening.”


His father takes the glass from him again. “You will adjust. This is your life now,” he tells him. Spock feels an odd sense of shame, completely new to him. His father does not seem to notice. “Jim will come to you in time. Things will improve once he makes his commitment to you.”


His conversation with Nyota flashes to the forefront of his mind, and Spock swallows heavily. He does not know that Jim will ever consent to be his. But he nods. “How long have I been given leave?”


“One more week,” his father informs him noncommittally. It seems excessive, Spock thinks, but he accepts it. “Will this give you sufficient time to regain your health and control?”


Spock does not know that he will ever fully regain his control, but he looks to his father with determination. “The time will be more than sufficient,” he says, confident that it is true – at least in regard to his health. His father looks nearly approvingly at him, and Spock forces his gaze away. “I require the use of the facilities.”


His father steps aside, and Spock walks slowly to the bathroom door.




His mother meets him in Engineering.


It is certainly a dream, but Spock has no inclination towards waking from it. She is wearing the same casual blouse and slacks she wore when he was young, and he does not wish for her to ever be away from him again. She looks young, happy, and more than anything, she is reaching her arms out to him.


He cannot help but walk to her, allowing her, as he had not in years, to wrap her arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. He feels her soft breaths on his neck and the weight of her arms at his waist, and he reminds himself that it isn’t real.


“Of course it’s real,” his mother murmurs, but he knows it is a lie. She pulls back, still holding him, and it is enough for him to see her face. Her lips quirk into a humorous smile. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever have you believing that, though.”


Spock could not have looked away from her if his life depended on it. “You are dead,” he points out. She shrugs.


“Well, I’m not going to argue about that. That one’s pretty undeniable,” she admits, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looks him over. “I miss you.”


He breathes deeply. “The sentiment is returned,” he says, wrapping his own arms around her waist. She leans in again, resting her head against his collarbone. He allows himself to hold her for a moment like this. “But you are not real. This is a dream.”


“Who says dreams aren’t real?” she asks. He tightens his arms.


“Years of research has documented—”


She moves one of her hands to cover his mouth. “Shh,” she quiets him, pulling back again. “Stop examining and analyzing this. I don’t want you telling me whether or not I exist.”


There is a pang behind his sternum, and Spock nods, letting her slip from his embrace. She glances around the room.


“So this is your ship,” she observes. He nods, and she sighs. “It’s beautiful. Maybe a bit cold.”


He does not answer right away. He watches her examine the engine. “In reality, the area you are standing is charred severely. It will likely require complete replacement before we are reengaged.”


“Spoilsport,” his mother murmurs. She glances back at him. “Your father told you about his imprint, didn’t he?”


Spock clasps his hands behind his back. “He said you were against bonding with him.”


She laughs, a sound he is shocked to find he has forgotten. Her eyes shine as she looks at him. “Of course I was,” she says. He cocks his head, watching her lean against the engine. “I was only twenty-two, Spock. Younger than you are now. I’d just completed university, and the last thing I wanted was to be whisked away in some fairytale romance with a dashing stranger. I’d worked far too hard for that.”


The Vulcan takes a step towards her. “I was under the impression you were a teacher when you and Father met.”


She shakes her head. “I was completing an internship. I was in training to become a teacher,” she explains. “It was a dream I’d had for years. I didn’t want to give it up for anything.”


Spock stills. “Why did you agree to complete the bond with him, then?”


His mother shrugs her shoulders; he had forgotten that she did that. “I realized that he was going to be as much mine as I was to be his,” she informs him. “And once I understood that, it was okay. We weren’t going to be able to fight it. I knew I had to adapt.”


Spock sets his jaw, walking until he is directly in front of her again. “Have you ever regretted it?”


She turns her face up to him, and he realizes just how much smaller she is than him. He always knew, objectively, that he was taller, heavier, and wider than her, but this is the first time he’s really noticed it. She smiles gently. “Not a day of my life,” she answers, lifting her hands to cup the sides of his neck. She looks away for a moment, then back to him. “Jim will come to you.”


Spock swallows again. “I will understand if he does not.”


“He will come to you,” she repeats firmly, locking eyes with him. His breath feels trapped in his lungs, and she smiles. There is a sudden ethereal quality to her, and it fills him with an odd sense of panic. “I love you.”


He opens his mouth to respond, but in an instant, everything is gone.




Spock wakes abruptly, finding the lights shining above once more. He blinks twice, trying to determine what woke him, and to his great shock, he finds Jim has taken a seat at his desk. He is scrolling through a PADD, and for a moment Spock thinks he must still be dreaming.


“You’re awake,” Jim says, though he does not turn back to look at him. Spock barely remembers to breathe. “Did you sleep well?”


The half Vulcan clears his throat. “Yes,” he answers, remembering vividly his mother’s confidence that Jim would be here. He tries to cast it from his mind. “What brings you to my quarters?”


Jim scrolls further in his PADD, and Spock recognizes the document as one of the few that concerns Vulcan imprinting. He swallows.


“Did my father provide you with that material?” he asks. Jim shakes his head.


“Lieutenant Uhura told me I should read it,” the man replies, finally setting it down. He turns to face Spock, expression unreadable. “You told her what happened?”


Spock shakes his head. “She reached the correct conclusion of what had transpired on her own,” he says, wondering why Nyota had given him the material. It was nothing he could not have explained to Jim himself. “Does it bother you that she is in possession of this information?”


Jim looks at the wall. “No,” he says, sounding surprised himself. “Actually, it was probably for the best. How else would she have known to give me the right report?”


Spock is quiet for a moment. “You still have not answered my question,” he points out. “What brings you to my quarters?”


There is a sudden rush of color to Jim’s cheeks, and he clears his throat. Spock watches him bring one strong hand to his mouth to cover the resulting cough. He doesn’t look away from the wall. “I didn’t know how to stay away.”


The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”


The human finally looks back to him, red to his ears. “I was going crazy, knowing you were on medical leave and not—not seeing you,” he explains. His eyes appear even more piercingly blue right now, and Spock’s breath is caught in his chest. He yearns to pull Jim into bed with him and demand that they consummate the bond right this instant, but he knows he must control himself.


“I am certain that my absence from your field of vision was not in any way endangering your sanity,” he says, almost without thinking. Jim laughs, sounding oddly helpless. “I am…pleased that you have chosen to come.”


His mate stands, walking to the bed and sitting at the end of the mattress. Spock forces himself to neither move towards or away from the other man. Once he is comfortably situated, Jim meets Spock’s eyes again. “So. Since I’m here, I think we should talk.”


Spock nods, inhaling deeply. “I believe that would be the best course of action,” he agrees. He lets his gaze travel to the PADD. “Have you read the entire document?”


Jim coughs. “Twice,” he confesses. “I still don’t get it.”


The half Vulcan nods. “Imprinting is a difficult process to explain,” he offers. Jim shakes his head.


“No, I got that,” he says, shifting his legs. “What I don’t get is how on earth you imprinted on someone like me. I can’t say I’m exactly the best guy for a Vulcan.”


Spock raises an eyebrow. “I am given to understand that we are supposedly inherently compatible,” he explains. “However, given your reputation for short-lived trysts and your apparently inability to commit to another, I am also at a loss for why I would have imprinted on you.”


Jim’s cheeks color pink again, and Spock finds himself fascinated by the depth of the hue. “My reputation is pretty much bullshit,” he says in a rush. Spock blinks, and Jim looks particularly tortured for a moment. “Everyone thinks I’m some kind of a man-whore because I jump from person to person. But it’s not—I don’t usually sleep with the people I flirt with. People leave when they realize I won’t put out right away like they expect I will. It sucks.”


Spock cocks his head. “You have not had an excessive number of sexual partners?”


“Try four,” the man answers, cheeks still pink. “It would’ve been five, but Uhura walked in on me and her roommate before we could get anywhere.”


The Vulcan is nearly certain his heart stops beating for a moment. Jim is quiet, as though he is ashamed of the number. He remembers how to breathe and finally responds.


“You have had only four sex partners?” he asks, if only because he can think of nothing else to say. Jim nods.


“My second girlfriend, my first boyfriend, a horribly misadvised one-night stand with an Andorian, and you,” he expands. Spock feels his body go numb as he focuses all his energy to ward processing this. Jim doesn’t seem to notice. “What about you?”


Spock swallows. “You,” he responds. Jim’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, and Spock is unsure how to react. “I would not have expected your history to…”


When he trails off, Jim nods, obviously feeling the awkwardness begotten by the revelation. He coughs again, looking at Spock as though he wants nothing more than to crawl inside his skin. But that could not possible be right – that is how Spock feels.


“Spock. Is this seriously…forever?” he asks, and Spock understands, at last, why Jim had reacted so badly when he’d first revealed their bond to him. He is used to being seen as an easy mark, taken and tossed away when his partners can’t get what they want. His reservations are natural – predictable, even. And then, in answer, Spock nods.


“Yes, Jim,” he says simply. “Whether we are prepared or not.”


Jim stares at him for a moment, an oddly desperate light in his eyes, and then he whispers, “okay.”


Spock blinks. “Okay?--”


He cannot complete the though, Jim launching himself forward and into Spock’s lap. He straddles him, their faces mere centimeters apart. “Okay,” he repeats. “Then I’m okay with this. I want it.”


Spock feels his breath catch in his chest. “Are you certain?” he manages to whisper. In response, Jim closes the distance between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss.


At least, it is gentle for a moment. But the second their skin touches, something ignites in Spock. Unfettered now, the barriers he’s erected between his mind and Jim’s come crashing down, the familiar and dizzying sensation of the interchange between their minds rushing through both of them, and they cannot possibly go slow.


Spock forces himself upright, devouring Jim’s mouth. He realizes, distantly, that he is gripping Jim’s wrists, perhaps too tightly, but he cannot be bothered to let the man go. He is caught up in the heady flavor of his mate, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air, and the weight of the man in his lap. His blood boils for a moment, and he is overwhelmed by the sudden urge to reverse their positions.


He is not sure how, but in an instant, he has flipped Jim onto the sheets, one hand traveling up his shirts to tease a nipple. Jim arches up against him, evidently not bothered in the least by the reversal of their positions. The human plunges his tongue into Spock’s mouth, and it only feeds into Spock’s fervor. The Vulcan moves both hands to work at the clasps of Jim’s pants. He can clearly feel Jim’s arousal, his phallus engorged with blood and straining against him. Spock is in a similar state; his own penis is completely erect, and there is an uncomfortable slickness between his legs.


He needs Jim inside him now.


He fumbles until he is able to slip Jim out of his pants, then he breaks the kiss, panting as he shoves down his own pants, grateful that his sleepwear is so easy to remove. Jim moans, looking at him with a startlingly bereft expression as he kicks off his slacks. He slinks out of his shirt as he does this, then returns to straddling Jim, completely naked.


He pumps Jim twice with his hand, telling himself he will explore his mate more thoroughly later. He lifts his hips, lining Jim up with his entrance.


“Wait, you need—” Jim starts, but his words are choked off when Spock forces himself down, taking the other man into himself. His mate gasps, eyes fixed to Spock’s face. “H-holy—is that--?!”


Spock nods, leading Jim’s hand to where they are joined. The man’s eyes widen with obvious shock. He cannot help but lean over to kiss him. Just having Jim inside him has calmed him some, and he takes a moment to take in his mate.


Jim is, of course, still fully dressed, aside from his open fly. The contrast between them is obvious when he looks down himself to where Jim’s hand is disappearing between his naked legs, and he feels himself clench around Jim’s phallus when Jim strokes around his opening curiously. The younger man moans, and Spock feels the heat building in his loins again.


He knows he has to move now. They both need it.


Spock lifts himself experimentally, examining the sensation that allowing Jim to mostly vacate him brings him. It is oddly painful to feel Jim nearly leave him, and he shoves down again, pleased by the ease of the motion. Jim groans, his free hand reaching for Spock’s. But Spock cannot possibly hold his hand and move at the same time—


“Brace yourself on me,” Jim whispers, his other hand emerging from between Spock’s legs to offer a support to the Vulcan. Spock sees what he means immediately, and he threads his fingers with Jim’s and pushes, finding the man can support him easily. He uses Jim’s arms as his leverage, and finally, achingly, he begins to find his rhythm.


Neither of them can last long, and it seems like only minutes before Jim is gasping, hips bucking up as he comes inside Spock. Spock, for his part, does not last even a second longer before his walls are clamping down around Jim as he ejaculates on his mate’s yellow jersey. There is a distinct flash of white in his mind – their minds – and finally, finally, he feels their bond complete.


He comes back to himself with a deep, shaking breath, and he realizes that Jim’s arms are trembling. He releases his hands and allows himself to collapse onto him. The human’s heavy heartbeat thuds against his chest, and he closes his eyes, relishing in the slow tempo. One of Jim’s hands moves to his shoulder blade, rubbing gently as if massaging him, and he cannot help the purr that leaves him.


“Wow,” his mate whispers. Spock is inclined to agree with the monosyllabic statement. Jim is beginning to soften within him, and he squirms against the sensation of his ejaculate beginning to drip out of him. One of Jim’s hands makes it down to circle Spock’s sensitive entrance, and he groans.


“Too much,” he manages, but Jim’s gentle fingers prod further, even as his penis slips out of its own volition. Those fingers explore gently, then retreat, hands resting on Spock’s backside.


“Why exactly do you have a vagina?” the human inquires. Spock supposes he’s taking this quite well. “Not that I’m complaining – I just wanted to know. Is it a Vulcan thing?”


The half-Vulcan shakes his head, disinclined to move any further. “It is simply how I was engineered,” he answers. Jim’s hands squeeze his backside, and he lets them. “I can explain further later.”


Jim seems to accept this. “Huh,” he murmurs, stretching lightly beneath him. Spock understands the subtle hint and lifts himself from the younger man, laying beside him. They are silent, and Spock breathes deeply, retreating to his mind to investigate the change in the bond.


The channel between their minds is clear, open, and reinforced by their physicality. He is aware that Jim has also entered this shared space between them, albeit inexpertly, and is examining it too. He checks it over for any signs of damage or weakness, and finding none, he reaches through to embrace his mate’s presence in the bond.


Amusement and careful wonder slips through to Spock, and he echoes the sentiments. Its potency is unreduced when he brings himself back to the outer layers of his consciousness and finds Jim staring at him.


“Yes?” he asks. Jim shakes his head.


“Nothing. I’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”


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Strangely hot. lol. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about the whole thing, but yeah, frantic and needy are always hot :) And, of course, Jim and Spock are always hot, no matter their incarnation :)

love the dream scene between spock and his mother, it was simply beautiful, and of course the consummation of the bond... delightful

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