Rating: R (...ish?)
Summary: Kirk needs to get married for political reasons. Spock offers himself as the logical choice. Written for the st_xi_kink meme. Enjoy!
They did not consummate their marriage when Jim returned to their rooms at last, as such a thing would have been impossible in his condition. They did not consummate it in the following days, or even after Jim had completely recovered and they were on their way to another system.
They did not consummate it.
Spock was not entirely upset by the lack of sexual contact. Bizarrely, he found himself relieved. He and Jim had not spoken of their relationship since he had been released from sickbay, although a few crewmates had approached Spock to discuss nothings with him, his emotional state and how happy they were ‘for him’. Admiral Pike had promised, when they dropped him off, to take them to dinner next time they were at his station, and Jim had accepted.
Spock endured a month of this, not willing to make the next move. It would be out of order. Jim knew already how Spock perceived him, knew it better than Spock had ever conceived he might. It was the captain’s turn to make a move.
Perhaps in not moving, he already had.
At the end of that month, they passed through New Vulcan’s system, and it became apparent that they would be delivering supplies to the colonists. It was Jim, strangely enough, who seemed most excited.
“We’re visiting Keilok while we’re there, right?” he asked quite plainly on the bridge the day before they were to beam down. Spock raised an eyebrow. For what purpose could Jim seek to converse with his other self when he would not, in fact, converse extensively with his husband? “I mean, he married us, Spock. Best let him see how we’re doing, yeah?”
Spock fought not to argue to opposite.
“If he is not otherwise occupied, I think a visit would be in order,” he managed to say evenly, making heroic efforts to ignore that they were having this conversation in front of everyone. “I had intended to visit the new academy. I have been assured that it is no less remarkable than the previous.”
Than the original, he forced himself not to say.
Jim had a smirk that seemed to cover his entire face. “Figures,” he said, tone recognizably playful. “The Vulcan race has an entire planet to do whatever they want with, and the first thing they do is build an academy. So very predictable.”
Spock turned his attention to his consol. “It was a logical course of action to ensure the betterment of the species, especially in this juncture in time,” he explained bluntly. “We will arrive in New Vulcan’s atmosphere in approximately 14.4 hours, at which time I will open a channel with the council. We should be able to determine whether Councilor Keilok will be available to meet with us.”
Jim did not respond, attention diverted by a message from sick bay. It was a lack of response that, for once, Spock appreciated.
It was in their chambers that night, 1.5 hours outside New Vulcan with the chessboard between them, that Jim finally had that conversation.
“You kiss really soft,” he said offhand, claiming a pawn. “Check.”
Spock was only taken aback for a moment. “Softly,” he corrected, placing a bishop between the threatening piece and his king. “You are intelligent enough to discern when it is appropriate to use an adverb rather than an adjective, Jim. And at the time you were recovering from a tear in your abdomen. For most species, the light pressure exerted would have been appreciated.”
Jim frowned, though whether it was from Spock’s words or his play escaped the Vulcan. He considered the board, glancing between the levels. “Okay, so it was a memorable kiss,” he admitted. “And you were very logical about it. Ball’s in my court now, right?”
“It is indeed your move, Captain,” Spock replied. He gestured openly towards the chessboard. Jim scowled.
“You know what I mean.”
Spock hesitated only a moment. “I will not pressure you into something you do not wish,” he said, watching Jim move his pieces. “That particular move, Jim, will put you into check.”
“Oh, so it will,” Jim realized, moving it back. Spock usually did not permit this, but today seemed worthy of exception. “I know we’re supposed to be together, Spock. The other Spock melded with me once. I saw it. I just don’t know if I can be what the other me was. Check.”
Spock glanced over the board. “And what was the other you, Jim?”
“Perfect,” he answered bluntly. Spock couldn’t help the surprise that coursed through their tenuous bond. It slipped past his barriers with no warning. Jim met his eyes, looking exhausted. “The other me was perfect, Spock. He was mature, loyal, affectionate, and everyone loved him. Everyone wanted to be him. I’m none of that.”
Wordlessly, Spock shook his head, moving his rook and tipping Jim’s king. “Checkmate,” he said unnecessarily. Jim’s insecurity wound about his consciousness tightly, cutting into him like a wire. He knew he should reassure it, but methods escaped him. And so he just spoke.
“A Vulcan will always see his bondmate as perfect, Jim,” he told him. “You are handsome, young, strong, and charismatic. You are honest to a greater degree than most humans. You express all emotion readily and display an extraordinary understanding of the inherent nature of most individuals. It would not be incorrect to state that a majority of Starfleet at the very least admires your character.”
Jim was silent for a little too long. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, Spock.”
Spock tilted his head, meeting Jim’s eyes once more. “I would not have proposed to marry you if I thought you anything less than extraordinary, Jim,” he informed him. “I will not say anything further on this subject.”
Jim stood, pacing around so that he was beside Spock’s seat. Spock turned his head to face him, and the man leaned down to press their lips together. The Vulcan indulged him easily, tilting his jaw to accommodate him better. Their mouths slid together chastely for a moment, Jim falling back briefly and surveying Spock’s face.
And then his lips were back on his, moving harder. Spock tried to pull back, but then Jim’s hands were on his face, pulling him closer and angling him. A cool tongue slipped between Spock’s lips, nudging at his teeth, while fingers slipped between his own, stroking them insistently.
Two minutes later, Spock couldn’t have explained to anyone how Jim had managed to pull both their shirts off without breaking the kiss or exactly when they had made it to the bed, but both had happened. Jim had him pinned to the bed now, one hand mapping out his now bare chest as the other continued stroking his fingers. Their hips were pressed together, hard, insistent, moving in a slow grind, moving to the same rhythm as their tongues.
Spock could no longer think.
He carded his free hand through Jim’s hair, body singing with pleasure, with completeness. He longed so strongly to bond them now, to just connect their minds and let instinct take over. It would be pleasurable, he knew. Pleasurable beyond measure. All it would take was a simple touch of their minds, and it would form itself around them. It would be so simple.
The door to their quarters opened, abruptly cutting that train of thought off just as Spock had brought his hand to Jim’s face, unconsciously seeking out the meld points he would have needed to bond them. McCoy’s voice reached him in vulgar expletives.
Never had Spock been so pleased to hear such words before.
“Goddamn it, Jim, I know you’re insatiable, but this is ridiculous!” the man exclaimed. Jim grudgingly pulled his body off of Spock’s. Spock attempted to gracefully rise to his elbows, glancing up at the flushed human who seconds ago had him pinned. “I mean, how often do you need it? We all noticed how Spock was limping today. Give him a break!”
Humans did perceive only what they wanted or expected to see, Spock supposed. Jim, for his part, slid off Spock completely, expression twisted.
“What do you need, Bones?” he asked, voice rough. The doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Communication for Spock,” he said simply, glancing at the Vulcan. “That is, if he’s up for it.”
Spock retrieved his shirt from next to the bed, pulling it on quickly and attempting to quell his arousal. He brushed two fingers against Jim’s as he left the bed, nodding apologetically at McCoy. “I will return soon,” he promised, though he had no intention of allowing the situation to turn like that again. McCoy obviously thought he meant otherwise, groaning.
“Take a break, you two,” he muttered, steering himself out of the room.
The communication channel in the private bay needed only to have Spock’s password keyed in, and once that was completed, his father’s face met him. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“Father,” he murmured. “I assume you are attempting to arrange a meeting for us when I beam down to the planet?”
“That assumption would be in error,” Sarek informed him. “I will not be able to meet with you while you are on planet. However, it has been brought to my attention that the Male Carrier Technique has been approved for use in humanoid species. As you agreed to provide an heir using this technique, I request that you or your mate undergo the procedure as soon as possible.”
Spock’s mouth dried, and he was immediately thankful that McCoy had not accompanied him inside. “Father, the timing is difficult for us, at best,” he protested. “Would you risk your grandchild growing to maturity on a ship? Do you wish him surrounded by humans during his formative years? Am I to provide an heir when the planet he will call home is not yet colonized? I do not see the logic in rushing this.”
Sarek’s face remained passive. “I do not ask that you attempt to conceive immediately, Spock,” he stated, eyes locked with his son’s on the monitor. “It is merely logical to be prepared in advance for when you choose to procreate. The odds of conception increased over time in many of the test subjects, and contraception is simple enough to procure. As you are Vulcan, the surgery must be performed on New Vulcan, and it is ambiguous at best when next you will return. It is only logical to undergo the procedure during this visit.”
Spock attempted to find a fallacy in his logic. Finding none that he would be incapable of rebutting, he nodded. It wasn’t as though he and Jim were intimate, and even assuming they began a sexual relationship, the contraceptives would prevent any unwanted pregnancy. There would be no unintended pregnancy.
There was very little probability of an intended pregnancy as well, he admitted to himself. But he found nothing wrong with this.
“I will discuss this with Jim,” he conceded. “I will alert you as to our decision as to who will become the Carrier.”
“That is most logical,” Sarek acknowledged. “Rest.”
Spock cut off the communication channel and exited, finding McCoy waiting. “Going to go finish up with Jim?” he drawled, looking like he really didn’t want to know. Spock paused.
“I will need discuss something of great importance with him,” he replied. “Good night, Doctor.”
Jim’s eyes were almost absurdly wide, Spock found himself noticing. His mouth as well, as though he no longer had any control over his musculature. He likely didn’t. It took a few tries before the man was able to speak.
“Your dad wants to put a uterus in one of us?” he managed, voice only squeaking slightly. Spock shook his head.
“While the prosthetic does behave in a manner similar to the female uterus, I can assure you that it is in no way related to those found in women,” he informed him, unease building in his back. “As I mentioned before, this is not for the purposes of immediate conception. He merely wishes the surgery be performed—”
“Performed ASAP ‘cause he’s itching for grandkids,” Jim muttered. “Christ, Spock. I didn’t sign up for this.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “We are not sexually involved,” he pointed out. Jim sighed.
“We would’ve been, if Bones hadn’t interrupted,” he grumbled. Spock attempted not to correct him and only barely succeeded. “Look, Spock. I want to sleep with you. But I can’t do it if I think one of us is gonna get pregnant from it.”
The Vulcan nodded. “Indeed, the possibility of conception is likely to decrease your sex drive,” he agreed. “However, Vulcan contraceptives have a failure rate of 0.0000082%, Jim. We have a higher chance of being pulled into an alternate dimension than conceiving while on those contraceptives.”
Jim still looked doubtful, but Spock was certain this would work out. And Jim wished a sexual relationship between them – it seemed nearly too good to be true. He would have Jim’s affection and his body, and that would have to be enough.
Even if he wanted his mind. Even if he wanted more than affection – even if he wanted love.
“If we’re doing this, you’re getting the procedure done,” Jim finally said, voice firm, eyes locked on the Vulcan’s. “You wouldn’t forget the protection like I would. And besides, this way your father leaves us alone, right? He won’t look up loopholes in Vulcan marriage law to annul the marriage this way, right?”
“There are no loopholes in Vulcan marriage law,” Spock could not help but say. And then he added, begrudgingly “But yes, I expect this will permit us to remain married until your citizenship is permanent. After that, you may do as you see fit.”
Jim eyed him for a moment, and then Spock found himself being led to bed. “Long day tomorrow,” Jim muttered, a hint of anger in his voice. “Let’s get some sleep.”
But no matter what he tried, lying beside Jim in the total dark, sleep did not come.
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