annenburg (annenburg) wrote,

Of Convenience: Chapter Seven

Title: Of Convenience
Chapter: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
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!


It was decided that Jim would spend time with ‘Keilok’ while Spock was having the procedure done.  Spock refrained from voicing any opposition, and although Jim was expected to meet with the Ambassador some ten minutes after he was scheduled to check in and the quickest route to their meeting place would take some fifteen minutes, the human accompanied Spock to the hospital.  The move confused Spock more than he was willing to admit, but he accepted the gesture.  Once he’d been checked in, however, Jim kissed him the human and Vulcan way and excused himself, jogging out of the building in the direction of the council building.

The procedure was performed under general anesthetic, and he drifted within his own mind for a time.

He remembered his mother’s voice, singing a Terran birthday song for him a capella, insisting that he blow out the candles, and despite his protests he had found himself doing as she’d asked.

He remembered Jim on the biobed, hovering between life and death and the coolness of his hand in Spock’s.  The way he’d lifted his hand over his heart, pressed against him there, how he’d demanded that human kiss of Spock and prevented all thoughts.

And then, a fantastical image of them properly bonded, of the strength of their connection pressing against their consciousnesses.  It would only firm the caresses of Jim’s hands against Spock’s skin, would give then the spiraling high of their joining a new depth, another dimension humans could not imagine.  It would let them remain together, even when they were apart.  It would…it would…

Spock awoke to a scanner being run over his abdomen, his doctor informing him frankly of how the surgery had gone and indicating on the screen where the implant had been placed.  Spock nodded through the explanation, awaiting the allotted time for his inquiries.  When at last it arrived, he started.

“The odds of conception at present, assuming standard intercourse with a human male?” he queried, propped up and already delving into his own body to seek out the change.

“Forty-two point eight percent,” the doctor stated, nodding permission for the next question.

“Odds of conception with the use of contraceptives?”




Precisely the same as with females, then, Spock acknowledged.  “Possible complications of receiving the implant?”

“Mild tenderness in the abdomen.”

“Hormonal differences?”

“Negligible until a zygote implants itself.”

“Affect on the bondmate?”


Spock finally located the implant, wrapping his mind around it curiously.  It did not seem at all artificial.  “Fertility cycle exempting the use of contraceptives?”

“One viable ovum produced every two months with capacity to be fertilized for two point two weeks,” the doctor replied.  “Given your mixed blood, however, there is a possibility the ovum will only have the capacity to be fertilized for one point eight weeks.”


Spock nodded.  “Method of elimination of unfertilized ovum?”

“The unfertilized ovum will break down and be eliminated in the liver.”

“Chances of conception at two months, ten months, and two years from the date of implantation?”

“Forty-nine point two, fifty-five point nine, and seventy-three point three respectively.”

“Length of fertility?”

“Immeasurable,” the doctor stated.  “The implant will convert one cell to an ovum every two months.  The cell itself will undergo meiosis as would any other, but only the most genetically favorable cell will be released as to be fertilized.”

Spock considered this for a long moment.  “Thank you, Doctor.  I have no further questions.”

The doctor left him to dress, which he did promptly, and on his way out he stopped by the pharmacy.

If he and Jim were to engage in a sexual relationship, he had best be prepared.

Surprisingly, Jim met him at the door with Keilok beside him.  Spock raised an eyebrow, but made no immediate comment.  Doing such would have been impossible, he imagined, especially given how Jim was suddenly encroaching on his personal space and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, stroking his fingers gently.  Spock almost believed it to be genuine.

“How’d it go?” he asked.  Unsure whether Keilok had been informed, Spock considered his options – and decided not to avoid stating the obvious.

“I am fertile,” he stated plainly.  “And I have obtained contraceptives.”

“Good,” Jim confirmed.  He pecked his lips once more before turning to Spock’s older self.  “Sorry I dragged you out here, Ambassador.  Do you still want to have tea with us?”

The elder Spock nodded.  “That would please me greatly,” he said, voice betraying the honesty of the statement.  “There is a facility near here that serves a great variety of beverages.  I believe you will approve of the selection.”

Spock found himself sitting astride Jim some ten minutes later, the human sipping an iced beverage while the two half-Vulcans gripped their tea in precisely the same manner.  If Keilok had any opinions on Spock’s procedure, he kept them to himself, instead discussing life on the Enterprise with the two of them.  Something in Spock told him that the older man was reliving his years on the ship, and he endeavored to give him as accurate a view as he could of his current status on board.

Jim endeavored to give him too accurate a view of their current status.

“Everything’s been going pretty awesomely lately, I have to say,” Jim was mentioning, taking a long drink.  “But Sarek’s timing sucks.  Spock and I had just started getting it—”

“Inappropriate,” Spock interrupted, setting down his tea abruptly.  “I am certain the Ambassador does not need to be informed as to that particular aspect of ship life any more than the other customers of this establishment.”

Keilok merely let the corners of his mouth twitch up, however briefly.  “It is something with which I am already quite well-versed, Spock,” he informed him.  “You need not be so affected.”

Spock pondered if he might be less affected if he was in a sexual relationship with his captain.




Jim had stated that he desired a sexual relationship with Spock, but Spock had not taken it completely seriously until that night, Jim’s hands sliding under his shirt, pulling him without hesitation towards the bed.  Spock could not bring himself to fight it, instead working the shirt off his own back, chest to chest with his husband.

His mate.

Their mouths locked then, and any control Spock might’ve had was gone.  He cupped Jim’s face and pulled it towards himself, using every scrap of skill he possessed to strip the man’s mind completely, running his tongue everywhere he could.  It was heady, thrilling, possessive – he could taste the iron under the flesh, the remnants of coffee, the breaths that didn’t quite make it out of him.  His hands were everywhere, running over every available bit of flesh, and finally they buried themselves in Jim’s hair, holding him to the kiss.

Spock felt Jim tugging at the fastenings of his regulation issue slacks, palming his genitals through them.  Immeasurably pleasing, he wanted to say, but all he managed was a low exhalation that seemed to deliver the message just as effectively.  He must have been distracted longer than he realized, because what seemed a moment later Jim was pressing him into the bed, biting up his jawline and nipping at his ear.

It took Spock a few seconds to realize that Jim had managed to undress both of them without him even noticing.  He allowed himself to glance over his husband’s body, taking in the smooth chest, flat nipples – and below that, the pink genitals at full attention, held carefully above his own.  Exotic, he thought, and that was the last conscious thought he had for a long while.

Jim played the chords of his body seemingly effortlessly, a constant and exponentially increasing vein of pleasure humming through Spock’s being, right up until two fingers found their way into Spock’s body.  He stilled, eyes meeting Jim’s.

“The contraceptives I procured will not activate for forty-eight hours,” he said, feeling the utter disappointment course through him.  He should’ve thought of it sooner.  Jim merely smirked.

“You think I didn’t know that?” he asked, breathless.  One hand slipped into the drawer next to the bed, coming up with a square package.  “Condoms.  Might be old-fashioned, but they work.  No allergies, right?”

Spock shook his head.  “Allergies are usually your problem,” he pointed out, reaching down to stroke Jim, a front to map out the length he would be taking.  Bulky, but not unmanageable.  He ignored the feeling in him that said not to do this until Jim was sure what he wanted.

Jim just scissored his fingers, working Spock open quickly, but thoroughly.  Spock mostly ran his hands over that hairless chest, examining it with some aroused fascination.  All men on Vulcan had chest hair in abundance, and the lack of hair on his mate’s chest was as exotic as his red blood and pink genitalia.  He let his lips run over the rounded ear, up to the even eyebrows, rested his hands on the man’s chest, feeling the heart beat there.

He had almost forgotten Jim was a different species.

It was pushed from his mind when the fingers left him and the condom was pressed into his hand.  He met Jim’s eyes, taking in his expression.  Spock couldn’t identify it.  Not right now, not straining with physical need and an emotion he couldn’t understand in his own mind.  He simply opened the packet, reached down, and with a slow inhale rolled the condom onto his partner.

“Sorry this couldn’t be as good as you deserve,” he thought he heard Jim say, but before he could attempt to confirm it, there was pressure at his entrance, and then—





Spock could count on one hand the number of sexual partners he had before Jim, he realized in the shower later.  This was not a source of shame for him.  Rather, it was the lack of positive sexual experiences he had previously had that proved a source of any negative emotion.  He had thought that the simple release of semen was enough to constitute ‘good sex’.

He was now inclined to change his opinion on the matter.  He had never orgasmed so powerfully that the world itself seemed to slip away.  He had never been so engaged in the activity that he had forgotten his vocal control, had never felt himself so thoroughly milked.

Perhaps it was a side-effect of the procedure.

Once content with his physical state, he emerged from the shower, pausing for a moment before merely slipping on a pair of regulation exercise pants and exiting the bathroom.  Jim was still stretched out naked on the bed, that hairless chest on display again.  Their eyes met.

“Human custom,” Jim said softly, gesturing at his side.  “Come here?”

Spock approached, slipping into bed with his husband.  It was not necessarily customary, Spock knew.  Nyota had never wanted to do this.  She claimed ‘cuddling’ was an emotional crutch or a heavy handed show of affection.  Spock had agreed.  There was no benefit to holding one another post-coitus.

But Jim wanted it – wanted that display of affection – and Spock could not deny him anything.

He curled into Jim’s arms, not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.  They neither moved nor spoke, not for a long while.

“I want better for you,” Jim murmured.  Spock tried not to react, though his heart rate did increase incrementally.  Another pause, and then he continued.  “My mom ‘fell in love’ with my stepdad, married him, and spent ten months a year off planet.  My brother ‘fell in love’ with a girl when he was sixteen, got her pregnant, and even seven years after their divorce, they’re still fighting for custody.  Bones ‘fell in love’ with his wife, and when that ended he wound up going the one place he hated most – space.”

Spock considered these things.  “You are concerned that you will follow this pattern?” he inquired, pulse quickening again.  He could feel his heart in his abdomen and was somehow thankful Jim’s hands were on his chest and shoulder.

“Spock, I’ve loved before.  But I’ve never fallen in love, and I’m scared shitless that I’m going to fall in love with you,” Jim whispered.  Spock tried not to tense.  Affection only.  He had known that before.  “And every time I fucking look at you, I have ten seconds of thinking how amazing you are, and then I just get fucking terrified.  You deserve better.”

Spock contemplated it again, trying not to think about how illogical the man’s statement was.  He had to be making a great effort to share this, and it was the Vulcan’s responsibility to reply in a manner respectful of his needs.

“If you are afraid of a sudden onset of affection, perhaps allowing the process to occur slowly could be a solution,” he offered.  Jim was silent.  He tried another tactic.  “Jim, I will be content with whatever you can offer me.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Jim whispered, and he tightened his arms around the other man.

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Tags: fandom: star trek, fic, fic: r
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