annenburg (annenburg) wrote,

Of Convenience: Chapter Eleven

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!


The entire crew knew about Spock’s miscarriage before he was cleared for duty again, and he knew from the looks they were giving him that they were uncertain how to respond.  Thankfully, their inability to come to a decision regarding the matter led to a lack of any approach, leaving him to grieve on his own with Jim.

However, this also meant that he would need to inform his father of what had occurred.  He reserved video conference room four for that evening.

He and Jim had an hour or so before the call, and Spock wasn’t sure what to do about it.  They had not discussed the miscarriage since that long moment in sick bay, wrapped in each other’s grief and awaiting the moment the dead embryo would be removed.  They sat in their quarters now, silent, Jim’s fingers locked with Spock’s.  The contact seemed to enhance the bond, and a strange sense of need, of urgency, flitted through from Jim.  After a long while, simply sitting beside each other, the man shifted, throwing his legs on either side of Spock’s hips and scooting forward until he was nearly in his lap.  He pulled his hand to his face.

“I know you’re scared of it,” Jim whispered, inexpertly positioning the Vulcan’s fingers on his meld points.  Spock tensed.  “You don’t want to hurt me.  I know.  Took me awhile to figure it out, but I know.  And I know you’re not going to hurt me.  So please.  Do it.”

Spock resisted the temptation to delve into Jim’s mind, to bury himself in the warmth the other man could provide.  “Jim, I will not risk—”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t ready to face anything,” his husband interrupted.  “It’s just…Spock, I remember what you said the day we got married.  The thing about the bond.  Something deeper than the marriage bond.  I want that.  I want something meaningful – something special.  I know it’s unbreakable, and I want that.  Something permanent, Spock.  Something…infinite.  Because as much of an idiot as I am, I love you.”

Spock managed to take a calming breath after Jim’s words, eyes closing.  He couldn’t look at a face so filled with adoration and determination.  “You are terrified of what could go wrong.  You did not want to fall in love.”

“Spock, look at what’s already happened to us,” Jim’s voice was insistent.  Spock could picture the expression on his face, an emotional display he would be helpless to resist, filled with human love, grief, and urgency all mixed in a way that made Jim’s features all the more beautiful.  “Think about it.  We’ve faced subtle inquiries, the Vulcan council, and even your other self.  You were forced into having an operation you didn’t want, nearly got raped, and we lost a baby.  You tell me what part of that was because I fell in love with you.”

Spock finally opened his eyes.  “Are you absolutely certain?” he whispered, Jim’s skin feeling unusually warm under his fingers.  “It is possible that you are confused, particularly in light of—”

“I’d have asked even if we hadn’t lost the baby,” Jim said firmly.  “Please, Spock.  Bond us.”

And Spock let go, surging into Jim’s mind and wrapping himself around it.  It no longer mattered that their marriage had been a performance.  And in Jim’s mind, he knew that everything outside the pair of them was irrelevant.  Their shared grief was scattered in the rapidly forming bond, blurring with age old wounds and uncertainties and the overwhelming, unconditional love he felt in Jim – and, he realized with some shock, in himself.


He felt Jim’s mind pulling him in further, all but embracing him.  They fit so perfectly, and Spock instinctively knew they would be all right.  Time would heal the loss they had suffered, time and their connection.  The bond wound thicker and thicker, overpowering.


Jim’s voice was so gentle, and yet he heard it so clearly in his mind.  He savored it.

Why didn’t we do this sooner?

Spock’s mind rang with a thousand reasons – the expectation of divorce, his own irrational fear – and yet he found nothing that stood up to this utter belonging.  I do not know, Jim.

They were bonded.  The meld broke of its own accord, but Spock still felt Jim fully, felt his contentment and wonder and just the slightest bit of sadness.

Would I have been able to feel the baby through the bond?  Since it was a part of you?

Not for some time, Spock found himself responding in the confines of their bond.  He had never been so aware of the outside world while communicating this way.  He could see Jim’s face, rather than just imagine it.  Could hear his breaths.  Do not think of such things.  Not now.  It is too late.

Jim nodded.  And then replied, vocally, “It’s too soon, you mean.”

Indeed, the wound was still fresh, still tender and open.  He brushed his fingers with Jim’s, the intimacy and sensation increased a thousandfold with the new bond in place.  Even Jim shuddered with the pure intensity of the gesture.  “You do not wish to divorce me, then,” Spock murmured, Jim’s amusement coursing through his body.  “That much is obvious.”

“Never really wanted to,” Jim confirmed.  His eyes were locked to Spock’s.  “But let’s not get you pregnant again anytime soon.  Not until we have a stable situation.”

“Agreed,” Spock replied, and he brushed his fingers against his husband’s.  His mate’s.  “The time?”

“We have ten minutes before we call your dad,” Jim informed him, a wave of melancholy flowing through their strengthened bond and ebbing away.  How powerfully Jim felt about their loss.  “Though we could go early.”

Spock was already getting to his feet when Jim said this, and with the bond in place, he did not need to make his intentions known.  His mate rose as well, passing him to step out the door.  They arrived at the room three minutes before their reservation, and upon finding it empty simply stepped inside and dialed in the correct system, planet, and residence for Sarek.

The man answered within forty seconds, his immaculate countenance appearing on the viewscreen.  To Jim’s surprise, Keilok appeared at his side, a cup of tea in his hands.  They both looked at the pair questioningly.

“This is rare,” Sarek said in greeting.  “I assume you are calling in response to the sentencing of Stonn and Saron?”

Jim shook his head.  Spock recalled their conversation a week ago, when it was revealed that the pair had been pardoned.  His refusal to explain why the council had deigned them unable to be held responsible for what had happened had been aggravating to his mate, he knew.  But Jim had accepted that he would explain when it became relevant to them.

“We have some distressing news for you, Father,” Spock said evenly, Jim’s fingers entangling with his.  Keilok, in the back, moved forward to stand beside their father.  “We do not enquire as to the reasoning behind their pardon.”

“Why do you call?” his father queried.  “It is quite late.  Be concise.”

Jim’s hand wrapped around Spock’s in a gentle embrace, and the Vulcan allowed the man to calm him.  One steady breath in, and then he spoke.  “We conceived a child,” he informed his father, the loss dripping into him from Jim and mixing with his own as his father and other self’s faces betrayed their approval ever so slightly.  The next words were consequently more difficult to say.  “But there was an accident, and it was lost.”

His father was silent, and Keilok sent them a pitying look.  Jim straightened his back.

“We may have a child someday,” his mate said, gripping the desk in front of him.  “But we have agreed that it will not be right away.  We will wait until we know this will not happen again.”

There was a pause, and then his father nodded.  “That is a logical decision,” he conceded.  “I know you did not conceive thinking this would occur.  Take better care next time you try to start your family.  Have you finished grieving?”

Jim shook his head.  “We’re just starting,” he admitted.  “And I think we’re doing an okay job.”

Keilok was the one to bow his head this time.  “I am sorry that such a thing has happened to you,” he murmured, voice low.  “Allow all the time you need.”

“Of course,” Spock replied.  “We thought it prudent to inform you of what had happened.  I do not believe there is need for further discussion.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask something,” Jim interjected, glancing at Spock.  “Sorry, Spock, but it’s a bit private.  Would you mind waiting for me in our rooms?”

Spock respectfully refrained from probing Jim’s open mind for the reason, instead nodding his head and returning his gaze to the screen.  “I will take my leave, then, Father.  Ambassador,” he stated, holding up his hand in the Vulcan salute.  “Live long and prosper.”

And with that, he turned his back to allow his husband to do whatever he felt was so necessary.




Two days later, the pair managed to procure a table in the mess without attracting any pitying looks, and Spock accepted that as a victory.  Even Nyota, entering alongside Dr.  McCoy and walking straight towards them, managed not to look excessively morose.  She set her tray down and looked Spock in the eye.

“I’m dating Leonard,” she said simply.  Spock nodded, reassuring Jim mentally that this did not bother him – because it didn’t.  Without another word on the subject, she dropped into her seat, peeling the skin off a fruit similar to a Terran apple.  The doctor sat beside her.  “It’s hard to believe you guys have been married almost a year now.  Next time you get hitched, at least let me come to the wedding.”

A surge of amusement came from Jim.  “You got it, Uhura,” he nodded, glancing at Spock.

Did you want her at our last one?

Spock sipped his broth.  Your selections from the crew were well thought out, Jim.  It was logical considering the circumstances.

You ever seen an Earth wedding?

“I have not,” Spock replied, and when Nyota raised an eyebrow at him, he realized he’d said it aloud.  “Apologies.  I was conversing with the captain regarding our ceremony on Vulcan.  Have you ever witnessed a Vulcan wedding, Nyota?”

She shook her head, eyebrow still raised.  “You’re not even touching,” she observed.  “How were you conversing?”

“Psychic love bond or something,” Jim shrugged, but Spock felt the playfulness through said bond.  “How’d you think we just knew things about each other?  It’s this weird Vulcan thing that hey, I don’t really understand that well, but damn if I’d want to live without it anymore.”

There is great truth attached to this statement, and Spock replied inwardly with, I do not believe either of us would choose to do so.

“Thanks, Spock,” Jim responded.  “Anyway, we’re passing by Earth early next month, and an old friend of mine is having a wedding.  Since you’ve never seen an Earth ceremony, I figured you might be interested in attending.  Should I go ahead and RSVP for two?”

Hope transferred in great abundance through the bond, a certain sense of urgency.  Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Whose ceremony would this be?”

Jim took a bite of his pancakes, chewing languidly.  “You haven’t met him,” he said simply.  “But he’s important to me, Spock.  I want to show you off, too.  Say yes?”

“I will consider it,” Spock answered, glancing to their crewmates, who were sporting nearly identical skeptical looks.  “How are the trials proceeding for the Rigellian flu vaccines?”


Spock could feel the daring in Jim’s mind, the hesitation and anticipation and excitement as the human pinned him to the bed a week later, and it was thrilling.  His husband’s arousal melded with his own, becoming something even more intimate than he had ever imagined.  They had not been together since before the miscarriage – something neither of them wished to think about right now, not when they were like this – and the newness of the bond made everything so much more pleasurable than either of them could remember anything ever being.

Jim licked up his chest, seemingly undeterred by the amount of hair Spock possessed.  He seemed to relish in the taste, contentment rolling off him in waves.  His mouth went to one nipple as his fingers found the other, working him furiously, and Spock groaned, pulling one of Jim’s round ears with one hand, the other slipping fingers into the human’s mouth.

Jim did most of the work in bed, but that suited Spock well enough.  He didn’t have to hold back his strength when he was the one being caressed.  He didn’t need to worry about the fragility of Jim’s human body, didn’t need to think about what might happen if he lost control.  It was so easy to get lost in the gentle and rough touches Jim gave him.  And Jim inside of him was so beautifully intimate that he could not imagine them any other way.


“You know what I want?” Jim whispered, and Spock shuddered.  He imagined Jim flat against the bed, hands on his hips as Spock rode him hard.  The man’s skin would be flushed pink, his nipples erect, and the look of utter ecstasy on his face would be…the Jim above him right then shook his head.  “You’re almost right.”

He sat upright, reaching behind him to grip Spock’s length.  Spock groaned, eyes widening as Jim positioned himself as to take it in.  “You need preparation to—”

Jim took him inside effortlessly, causing all breath to vacate Spock’s lungs instantly.


I want equality, Jim informed him frankly.  So take me, Spock.  Show me what you feel when I do this to you.  Take me until you go crazy with how badly it makes you want and feel and just adore the person you’re inside of.  You gonna give me what I want?


And without even the slightest hint of the control Spock knew he had, he found himself gripping Jim’s hips, pulling them into rhythm as he bucked his hips upward.  The pace was brisker than he usually set when he was on top, but Jim seemed to adore it.  He groaned out loud, bracing his hands on Spock’s chest and keeping the pace with his own strength.

The grip of Jim’s body around him was almost unbearable.  Was this how Jim felt in their previous encounters?  He felt so possessed, and simultaneously that he was in possession of the man atop him.  When they came together at last, it was like a freefall, exhilaration and trust and overwhelming affection coursing through them as individuals and together through the bond.

He had to help Jim back down to the bed once it was over, and for once he found himself reluctant to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.  He tossed an arm over Jim’s shoulders, nudging that round ear with his nose.

“Stay awake another minute,” Jim pleaded softly, sounding closer to sleep than Spock.  Spock obeyed, and Jim laboriously pushed himself to his elbows, digging in the drawer next to the bed.  A long moment passed, and finally he flopped back to the bed.  “Got it.”

“What?” Spock asked, eyes fixed on Jim’s cheeks, only just starting to lighten.  Jim lifted himself onto his elbows again.

“You don’t wear jewelry.  I’m not going to ask you to,” his husband stated, opening his hand to reveal a ring.  Intriguing.  “But, uh.  It’s a human tradition to have a ring for this.  Technically, you proposed our marriage to start out with, and I’m glad you did.  But now it’s my turn to be the man in this relationship, so I’m doing it again.  The human way.  Properly, even.”

How ironic that Jim seemed so intent on ‘being the man’ when he had just taken the submissive role in their coupling.  But Spock nodded him on.

“Spock, this ring is my size.  If you say yes, I get to make you put it on me during a human wedding ceremony,” Jim informed him, turning the simple band in his fingers.  “So, do I get to do that?  Will you marry me all over again?”

Spock leaned in to kiss Jim’s lips.  “Yes.  Put it away and go to bed,” he murmured, taking in Jim’s joy through the bond.  The smile he gave was almost too big for his face.  “Good night, Jim.”

Jim pressed his fingers to his husband’s.  “I’ll tell you about the plans for the wedding tomorrow,” he promised.  And not two minutes later, Spock found himself drifting off to sleep.




However Spock might’ve planned to inform the crew of their second wedding, he was not given the opportunity.  Jim strode onto the bridge the next morning, glanced about, and started giving orders as usual.

“Chekov, double check our heading.  Make sure we’ll make it to Sirius within 90 hours,” he called over to the boy, who immediately nodded, ducking his head.  “Sulu, maintain current warp.  I am not about to get lectured by Scotty again, especially when it’s not my fault.  As usual, monitor all major frequencies, Uhura.  Spock, continue classifying mineral composition.” There was a long pause as Jim watched everyone get to work.  “Oh, and Spock and I are having a traditional Earth-style ceremony for our anniversary.  Figure out something nice to wear.  We oughta have some invitations sent out with RSVP directions by the end of the week, but I figured it’d be good to tell you now so you don’t have to wear your uniforms.”

Spock resisted running his hands over his face.  But only barely.  Nyota’s eyebrow surged upwards.

“You’re getting married again?” she asked, sounding dubious.  Jim merely nodded, but Spock felt the satisfaction rolling off him.  He pointedly aimed a few images of Nyota in a wedding dress with the ship doctor at Jim, and the resulting shock seemed enough to knock him off his game.  “Where’s the logic in that?”

Jim cleared his throat, and Spock could feel him trying to rid himself of the image.  “I’d never seen a Vulcan wedding before I married Spock, and that was…special,” he said awkwardly.  Perhaps Spock had been too rough on him with that image.  “Spock’s never seen an Earth wedding.  Figured I’d equal the score – and what better way to celebrate our anniversary?”

And then, of all things, Nyota smiled.

“Good answer,” she said, turning back to face her station.  “If you’d said it was for your ego or because you wanted to show up Komack again, I’d have worn something skimpy and inappropriate and spilled something on your suit during or just before the ceremony.  But since you’re doing this for Spock, I’ll wear something tasteful and be careful with my drinks.  I promise.”

Jim nodded, senses coming back to him.  “You’re still free to wear something skimpy and inappropriate if you want, though,” he said, sounding for all the world that he was serious.  Spock hoped he wasn’t.  “Bones would probably love it.”

By lunch break, the entire crew knew of their intended second ceremony, and they seemed to be formulating several hypotheses as to why.  A majority of the women on board seemed to think Jim was a romantic at heart (and who was Spock to say he wasn’t?  He certainly had observed Jim’s sentimental tendencies on more than one occasion, and to call him a ‘romantic’ might not be so far off the mark).  Most of the men assumed Jim was just putting on a performance.  He might well have been, too, although Spock suspected it was meant more for him than anyone else.

Jim caught him before he could make it to the replicator.  “Neither of us is wearing white, got it?” he urged.  Spock raised an eyebrow, but he nodded.  “Okay.  Good.  Just had to clear that up.  Sulu won’t stop asking.  Black for me.  You?”

“Black,” Spock said carefully.  “I assume white has some significance in human weddings?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim snorted.  “It’s worn by the bride to symbolize purity.  As in, virginity.”

Spock entered the necessary code in the replicator for a stir fry.  “I can see how that would be somewhat unbefitting, given the entire crew knows we are sexually active,” he acknowledged.  “Rings are also a significant part of the human ceremony?”

“Very,” Jim replied, punching in the code for his own meal.  “But I know how sensitive your fingers are, and a ring would just get in the way of your work.  I just figured it wouldn’t work out – right?”

Spock eyed the ring adorning Jim’s left hand for a moment.  “I would not be averse to wearing one, provided it was worn on a chain around the neck,” he corrected him.  “If, of course, that is acceptable to you.”

A long moment passed, wonder passing through the bond, and then Jim crushed Spock’s lips under his, and whispered a muffled, “thank you.”

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