Happy Halloween! To celebrate I set out to create a big list of really well written monster spirk fics with ghosts and vampire and werewolves and witches, etc. But apparently they just...don't really exist in large numbers?
The Fandom has apparently decided that Jim can be a werewolf. And that's it. (I did come across a couple Ghost!Kirk fics with potential, but I'm pretty picky about execution.) So anyway, you get a short list of excellent Werewolf!Kirk fics. Enjoy!
HOWL by indeedcaptain - this is one of those fics where you just kind of hold your breath the whole time and then it's over and you pass out. In a good way. The author loves werewolves and you can tell.🔥🔥🔥
I'll Keep You (My Fuzzy Little Secret) by Beltiel - this one is way more warm fuzzies than Halloween, but Jim is a werewolf and the story is super sweet and the whole pack bonds thing is adorable. So it made the list!
You Wired Me Awake by thefourthvine - I did a whole blog on this fic here. It actually does have the whole gamut of monsters! It's the Spirk Fantasy AU you didn't know you needed.
All the Night's Magic by kyliselle - pre-Academy AU where Spock interns with Bones in Georgia and finds his ward...suspicious. And super hot. (Tbh, the pacing on this one was a little rushed. But the dialogue, characterizations, and chemistry were great, so it made the list.)
Let Me Help [art] by Gensho - here's a bonus gorgeous piece of fanart with Vampire!Jim. Can you see the vision?!? Somebody needs to write this! And also Ghost!Jim. Please. There's a whole year until next Halloween's recs...
Cerebrumilingus by CampySpaceSlime - okay, here's one more bonus rec because it's Mirror Zombie!Spock but it's also the most fucked up fic I've ever read. But it's supposed to be that way, so success? It is very gross and very explicit and very funny and very, very CampySpaceSlime.
Hey everyone! Since I haven't seen one yet, I figured I'd put one out there early enough anyone could join in! It's the whole month of October for Spock/Kirk attention! So for anyone who enjoyed Spirktober last year, we go again!
There are two prompts for each day to give everyone something to work with- feel free to do as many or as few as you'd like! I'm super excited to see everyone's work!
Day 31 I imagine is a free day! There's no rating limit, just let the Spirk ship sail!
Please tag with spirktober2023 or spirktober on here, twitter, or AO3- I will try to make a collection off of that tag on AO3 and reblog everything I can catch here!
Rite (write ;) ) of passage for star trek ficcers!! Yes I made the same joke on my AO3 but it was too good to only post once!! I am very behind on Spirktober but I'm having too much fun to stop now so here's my accidental 6K fic about spock's first pon farr.
Also posted on AO3 here!
Archive warnings: explicit sex ahead! ahoy!
☆☆☆
After three years of having a direct line into Spock’s emotions, Jim was reasonably accustomed to his bondmate’s daily moods. There were, usually, very few surprises. So when the bond between them lit up with an unexpected one-two punch of lust and anxiety with no apparent cause, Jim was concerned, to say the least.
He shifted in the captain’s chair and thought down the bond, Everything okay, love?
There was not an immediate response, which was not necessarily a problem except for that the anxiety had not abated in the slightest and the lust was starting to make Jim’s skin itch. Spock? Hello?
Are you on the bridge? Spock’s mental voice was ragged, slightly breathless, and Jim’s own concern ticked up another notch. Are you safe?
Yes, I’m safe, he thought back, and pushed the image of what he was seeing to Spock. Sulu and Chekov at their stations ahead of him, the blackness of space and the occasional distant star on the viewscreen, and the general air of relaxation around him. Uhura was humming to herself. Are you okay? What’s wrong?
I do not know, Spock said, and that answer frightened Jim more than anything else so far. I find that I cannot logically pinpoint the source of this emotion nor can I compartmentalize it.
Spock, are you having a panic attack? Why do you feel like you want to jump my bones?
At “jump my bones,” Spock’s half of the mental link contracted so suddenly and painfully with arousal that Jim bit the inside of his lip to keep from gasping.
Refrain from considering such subjects until I leave the laboratory, Spock said, and his voice was strained.
You’re meeting me in Medbay. Head there now, I’ll be down soon.
Captain---
That’s an order, love. I’ll see you in a minute. At the promise of their meeting, Jim felt Spock’s stress decrease fractionally. He rolled his neck and stood. “Sulu,” he said. “You have the conn.”
“Sure, captain,” Sulu said. “For how long?”
“Ah,” Jim said, and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know yet. Until I come back, I guess.” Sulu shrugged and stood to replace Jim in the captain’s chair. Jim walked into the turbolift and said, “Medbay.”
Spock was pacing the hallway in front of the Medbay doors when Jim arrived. “Hey, you,” he said as he exited the turbolift, smiling at his bondmate. At the sound of his voice, Spock whirled and was on him in a second. He slid his hand into Jim’s hair, tight enough to pull, pressed his face into the crook of Jim’s neck, and inhaled sharply. Through Spock’s hand against his skin, Jim could feel the trembling in his arms. Spock’s nose was pressed hard against him; he could feel the fluttering of his eyelashes against his neck.
“Hey,” he said again, soothingly. He ran his hands down Spock’s back, resting on his ribs. His heart was beating entirely too hard for anything short of active combat. “Hey, now. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Let’s go see M’Benga, okay?”
Spock took one more deep inhale against his skin before straightening. His cheeks and ears were flushed, like he had a fever, and he tucked his hands behind his back for only a moment before he released them to touch Jim again. Jim took his hand, despite their usual moratorium on PDA, and that seemed to steady him, before pulling him to the Medbay doors. As soon as they slid open, Spock pulled Jim behind him and stood between him and the rest of Medbay, eyes flicking from side to side like he was expecting an attack. The only person Jim saw over Spock’s shoulder was Christine, who sat with her legs stretched out in front of her on an unoccupied biobed, surrounded by a stack of padds.
She looked up as the doors opened. “Hey, boys,” she said, smiling. “What can I do for you today?” She frowned as she registered Spock’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I think he might be, uh. Having a panic attack?” Jim peered around Spock’s arm.
Christine immediately swung her legs down from the bed and approached, palms up like she was soothing an animal. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Spock’s defensive stance, the flush on his face, his unsteady breathing.
“Everything okay, Spock?”
“I do not know,” Spock said. His voice was tight. Christine took another step towards him, and his grip on Jim’s hand tightened as he crouched slightly. “Christine, please. I know, logically, that you are my friend. But do not come any closer.” She stopped immediately where she stood, and Jim saw her put something together.
“Oh, shit,” she said. “Is it that you don’t want me to come near you? Or near Jim?”
“Jim,” Spock said immediately, and pulled him further behind him.
“I’m gonna get M’Benga, because he can help more than I can, and then I’ll be right back. Okay?”
When Spock nodded, she spared Jim one nervous smile and vanished behind the partition wall, into M’Benga’s office. Spock ran his thumb compulsively over the back of Jim’s hand, and slowly Jim put together the pieces. He pulled Spock to face him, putting his free hand on his chest, making Spock look at him.
I think it might be your time, Spock.
No, Spock said immediately, but with no conviction. M’Benga said that I would sense it coming for a few days first.
He was taking an educated guess, love. He might have been wrong.
I fear for you, Jim. I am not ready. I do not want to hurt you.
You’re not going to, he said, but he privately made a note to call his mother-in-law as soon as he could. We’ve talked about this. We have a plan. It’ll be okay. We’ll just speed up the timeline a little bit.
M’Benga stepped out from his office with Christine, but maintained a healthy distance between himself and Spock.
“Doctor,” Spock said. “I think I must request leave.”
“Yes, I think you must,” M’Benga said, and he crossed the room to pull a medical kit labeled in Vulcan from a locker. “You and the captain are both on leave from duty for the next six days. If you need more time, it’s yours. The captain’s quarters have a replicator, no?”
“Yes,” Jim said.
“Go there, then. Captain, you must ensure your own nutrition and hydration. I’m not sure if Mr. Spock will remember.” A flash of guilt came over the bond, and Spock’s hand flexed compulsively around his. M’Benga placed the bag on the ground and shoved it, so it slid across the floor to them. Spock picked it up without releasing Jim’s hand.
“If there’s anything you need that isn’t in the bag and can’t be replicated, call us,” M’Benga said, and now he was talking to Jim. “We’ll bring whatever it is. Captain, I mean it. Whatever you need. Do not prioritize your privacy over your health.”
“Got it, doctor,” Jim said. Spock did not respond. “Thank you.”
Let’s go, sweetheart, Jim said, and when he pulled Spock by the hand, he followed. M’Benga and Christine watched him go, and she crossed her arms over her chest. When Jim looked back over his shoulder as the doors slid shut behind him, she mouthed, “Good luck,” and winked.
Well, at least one person thought he was going to have fun. He wasn’t so sure, himself.
☆☆☆
Jim had been sitting on the closed toilet seat for forty-five seconds, composing the most intimate and embarrassing padd message he’d ever written and bracing himself to send it to Amanda, when he felt the anxiety flare again. Three seconds later, Spock overrode the bathroom lock. He panicked, hit send on the message, and stood.
“Hi,” he said. “Okay there?”
Spock looked between the padd and the closed toilet seat and to him. “I do not wish to be apart from you right now,” he said, voice mostly even, but Jim felt his anxiety spiking through the bond. “Is… everything alright?”
“Yes,” Jim said. He stuck his padd in his pocket and crossed the room. I’m worried about you, he said through the bond. And about me. I messaged your mom for advice. He wrapped his arms around Spock, and Spock dropped his forehead onto his shoulder.
I am in control now, but I do not know what will happen when the blood fever comes. I am terrified to hurt you.
I know, baby. That’s why I don’t think you will. But… just in case. I wanted to tap in the only other human I know who has done this before. Spock rolled his head to press his lips against Jim’s neck and wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist.
Let’s lay together and watch holovids for a while. No rush. If it starts, we’ll already be in bed, Jim said. He stepped forward, pushing Spock backwards out of the bathroom, back into his quarters. He stripped out of his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Spock methodically removed his own uniform, folding it carefully, and placed it on his desk.
His padd dinged from where it had been abandoned in his pants. Spock retrieved it and handed it to him before climbing into bed beside him.
“Do you want to see what she says?” Jim asked. Spock rolled onto his stomach, face buried in his pillow, and mumbled, “No.” Jim stroked one hand over his bondmate’s hair before tapping on the notification from Amanda.
He closed his eyes, breathed in, and opened the message.
My dear Jim,
I’m so glad that you reached out to me, even though I can feel your embarrassment through the screen. Please do not be embarrassed. I wish that I had been able to ask anyone about what the plak tow was going to be like for our first pon farr together, and I’m glad that I can be that for you.
I am going to let you in on a secret, one that I hope will set your mind at ease and bring you and Spock closer together during this time. Vulcans are so private, and have been for so long, that I think they’ve forgotten the damage that their privacy causes to those who aren’t in the know. I know that the idea of this time terrifies Spock --- it has since he was small and first learned of it. I hope this message assuages his worry as well as yours.
Here is the secret: because you are already bonded, and because you love each other, it is going to be wonderful. Do not be afraid. The secrecy with which all Vulcans hold this time has only served to perpetuate the worst rumors from the worst situations.
Be prepared --- certainly be smart, and safe, and drink more water than you think you need --- but do not worry. He will take care of you.
I love you both. Talk soon.
Amanda
“Oh, my god,” Jim said. He read the message again, and then a third time. Spock, he said. His bondmate was still facedown in the pillow, with one hand spread possessively over Jim’s stomach. Jim threaded their fingers together. Spock, listen. He read Amanda’s message aloud through the bond.
Slowly Spock picked his head up and propped himself on his elbows. Jim handed him the padd for him to read for himself. He scanned the words once, and then again, before returning the padd to Jim and meeting his eyes. The worry that had clouded the bond since the first flare of anxiety this morning had not totally dissipated, but it was greatly lessened.
I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, Jim said, and he pulled up a Terran movie from the 2050s on his padd, propping it on his thighs and sliding down the pillows to lay on his back. Spock curled around him, head on his shoulder, arm across his middle.
Thank you for asking her, he said. I am less concerned for your safety now than I was before.
Less concerned? That’s all?
I do not understand.
Come on, you’re not even a little excited?
Excited? To behave like an animal for a week?
Have it your way, Jim said, trailing his fingers over Spock’s forearm.
After a few minutes of watching the movie in silence, Spock said, Are you excited?
In response, Jim pushed one of the fantasies he’d been nurturing ever since Spock had explained the pon farr to him along the bond and felt Spock’s arm tighten across his stomach. Only if you’re taking requests, Jim said.
I will see what I can do, Spock said, but Jim felt his tension dissipate further and the lust from earlier begin to take its place. He settled in to watch the movie and fell asleep with Spock on his shoulder.
☆☆☆
When Jim woke up, the room was pitch-dark and his body told him he had only been asleep for a few hours. His padd had been moved to his bedside table, and Spock was nowhere to be found.
My love? He cast the thought out through the bond as he felt around in the bed for Spock. He found no warm body beside him, but heard a shuffling across the room.
“Computer, lights to ten percent,” he said quietly, and the room illuminated enough for him to see what had woken him. Spock had gotten out of bed --- recently, if the state of his hair and the imprint of the lines of the sheets against his chest were any indication --- and he was digging through the bag from M’Benga, which had been abandoned on the coffee table. He pulled a large bottle of something from the bag and turned back to Jim, whose eyes flicked downward.
His bondmate was very, very hard.
You are awake, Spock said. His voice was ragged.
You’re awake too, Jim said, and sat himself up fully. Spock prowled towards him, tossed the bottle onto the bed next to Jim, and crawled across the bed to him.
I burn, Spock said, and he cupped the back of Jim’s head and pulled him into a human kiss. Jim opened his mouth to Spock, allowing him access, not awake enough to give one hundred percent but certainly awake enough to enjoy Spock’s attentions.
What do you need? Jim asked sleepily. Spock pushed him back down onto the bed, laying his weight over him, pressing him into the mattress. He nudged Jim’s head sideways, giving him access to his neck, and licked a strip up to his ear.
You, Spock said, and his voice was just a growl now, primal and assertive. Give yourself to me and I will give you everything.
Everything? Jim said, and wound his arms around Spock’s neck, sighing as Spock sucked what was surely going to be an enormous hickey into the skin below his jaw.
Whatever you desire, ashayam, it will be yours, Spock said, and he ran a hand down the length of Jim’s torso, halting at the waistband of his boxers. Jim felt his hands hesitate, and even though Amanda’s message had eased his concerns, he had not realized that giving his consent was part of the process. He had assumed that it did not factor in. But Spock had never once taken something that Jim had not offered, and it did not seem like he was going to start now.
Yes, he said. I’m yours, love. Give me everything. Spock’s hand slid into his boxers, nails dragging against his thighs, and he felt his hips being lifted and his shorts being removed. The dim lights shone against the darkness of Spock’s hair as he licked and kissed and bit his way down Jim’s body, halting for only a second to kiss the side of his dick, before he felt Spock’s arms twine under his body and flip him onto his stomach, fast enough to knock the wind from him.
Oh, shit, he thought, dizzy, and Spock was back at his head in an instant, nuzzling against his ear from behind, the heat of his body radiating into Jim’s back.
Ashayam?
Still here. Still good. Just surprised me. Not totally awake. Spock kissed his ear in confirmation and then licked a hot wet stripe down his back. Jim crossed his arms under his head and closed his eyes as Spock spread him open and licked from his balls to his tailbone. His body was waking up now, paying more attention to what Spock’s tongue and hands were doing, and it was only a couple of minutes longer before he was completely awake, hard, and grinding against the mattress and Spock’s face. He moaned into the pillow, and before he realized what was happening Spock had flipped him over again. He landed on his back, knees bent and falling open, and Spock put himself between them, grinding their dicks together, kissing the moans out of his mouth. The friction of Spock’s boxers was almost too much, and he groaned.
In one motion Spock stood, removed his boxers, and recovered the scarily large bottle of lube from where it had landed before crawling back to Jim. He sat back on his knees and flicked the cap open, squirting the liquid onto his fingers, and trailing them between his cheeks.
Please, Spock said. Jim let his knees fall further apart.
Please, Jim said, as he felt Spock’s finger trace a line down his hole. He hissed at the cold surprise of the lube, but it warmed quickly between his body and Spock’s hand, and sooner than he had expected Spock was scissoring multiple fingers inside him. Spock pulled his fingers out and Jim groaned. But a second later he felt the head of Spock’s dick push at him, and Spock’s hands around his hips.
Ashayam? Spock asked.
Yes, Jim said. Spock pushed inside him, less gently than he might have otherwise, sure, but he had been careful and methodical in his preparation and he seated himself inside Jim with no pain. The head of his cock brushed the bundle of nerves inside him, and Jim arched off the bed. Spock slid an arm beneath him, holding him up to Spock’s chest until there was nothing separating them but their skin, and then he began to move.
Spock was usually careful with Jim. And he still was, mostly--- Jim could feel his love leaking from every inch of the bond and from Spock’s hands on his skin --- but the leash had slipped. He thrust into him harder than he had before, pushing him up the bed against the headboard, driving his hipbones against Jim’s ass until he was sure that he couldn’t take another millimeter of him.
Jim leaked come onto his stomach, flying towards the edge of climax, but Spock showed no signs of slowing. Love, please, he gasped. I’m too close.
I will have your orgasm, Spock growled. Give it to me. Even as he drove into Jim with that punishing rhythm, he reached up to wrap one hand around Jim’s cock, a question in his eyes. Yes, Jim gasped, and all it took was for Spock to close his hand around Jim and tighten before Jim came like a supernova, spilling over his chest and Spock’s, crying out and digging his hands into Spock’s shoulder as he clenched around him.
Spock followed him over the edge, and as Jim was still coming down he felt Spock come inside him, muffling himself by biting into the meat of Jim’s shoulder. Spock convulsed once, twice, before pulling out gently and pulling Jim into his arms, cradling him in his lap.
Good morning, he said, head lolling against Spock’s shoulder. He was covered in his own come and could feel Spock’s dripping out of him, but he didn’t have the bones left within his body to get up and wash off. He was content to lay here in Spock’s lap until otherwise forced to move.
Thank you, Spock said, and Jim opened his eyes in surprise.
For what?
For giving yourself to me, Spock said. Jim closed his eyes again.
You’re welcome, he thought. That was… nice. Not what I expected from all the stories. He also didn’t expect the chest-deep amusement he felt from Spock in response.
My James, Spock said. This is only the beginning. Sleep now.
Despite the come drying on his chest and the awkward curl of his position, he obeyed, and slept.
☆☆☆
When Jim woke again a few hours later, it was because the mental bond was hot with desire. He opened his eyes to find that he and Spock had not moved from where he had fallen asleep after they had had sex--- Spock sat cross-legged beneath him, arms cradled beneath his legs and shoulders, holding him to his chest. He blinked and lifted his head. As soon as he started to move, Spock tensed.
You awaken, Spock said.
I do, Jim said, and moved to roll out of Spock’s lap. But as he did so, Spock’s arms tightened around him.
No, he said, and he sounded contrite even as he refused to let Jim go. Do not be parted from me.
Even to use the bathroom? Jim could feel and now regret not cleaning up after last night. His skin was tight and sticky. Spock lifted him from his lap, rose to his knees, and uncrossed his legs, all while keeping Jim held to his chest. He carried him across the room and into the bathroom before finally setting him on his own two feet on the cool tile.
Are you going to stand there while I pee?
Spock’s face flushed, but he made no further moves to leave the bathroom. I find that I cannot bear to let you out of my sight.
Have it your way, he said, and relieved himself, studiously ignoring the weight of his bondmate’s continued gaze. He finished and crossed to wash his hands, and Spock followed him, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Feeling a pulse of arousal through the bond, Jim watched in the mirror as Spock traced the dried evidence of the night before on his chest with two fingers. With every pass of his hand, he felt Spock’s interest grow through both the bond and his erection against his back.
Will you give yourself to me? Spock asked, and his hands tightened around Jim’s hips. Jim turned in the circle of his arms as Spock leaned down to kiss him.
Always, he said, and Spock lifted him and carried him to the shower.
☆☆☆
It had been twenty-four hours and Spock had refused to let him go more than three feet from him at any given point in time. After fucking him in the shower up against the tiles, Spock had carefully washed and dried him, toweled and brushed his hair, and then followed him step for step to the replicator. Jim thought that, if he hadn’t already picked up the fork himself, Spock would have insisted on feeding him. Through the bond he could feel the fever, some of it leaking through the connection and spiking his own arousal, and Spock had not said anything but some variation on ‘give yourself to me’ in hours.
Contrary to his and M’Benga’s fears that Spock would accidentally dehydrate him into a shriveled husk, Jim found that Spock was more attuned to the needs of his body than he was. Before he was even aware of his own thirst or hunger, Spock had stood, acquired whatever he needed, and returned, sliding his hand behind Jim’s head, lifting a glass or fork to his lips. Then, every hour or two, Spock would slip his hand between Jim’s thighs, waves of fevered arousal flooding him from the bond, and ask Jim to give himself to him. He would agree, and his bondmate would take care of him. After four rounds in four hours, his dick had given up on participation for the day, but Spock melded them after that point and he instead rode the mental high of Spock’s relentless ability to climax until his body was rubber and his thoughts slid off his brain like rain off a rooftop.
But Amanda had been honest with him. The pain that he and Spock had both expected and feared for this time never came to pass. It was true that very little of his thoughtful, eloquent bondmate remained --- there was none of the usual scientific curiosity or quick wit through Spock’s half of the bond. But the bone-deep possessiveness, the love and care and protection that Jim had felt since the first day they were bonded, had been unleashed, and even when Spock left bruises on his hips and ass and neck he knew that Spock would not hurt him.
In the medical bag from M’Benga he found three more of the enormous lubricant bottles, a truly unholy number of condoms, emergency rehydration goo, nutrition bars, and a strange plastic wand labeled ‘internal dermal regenerator.’ He set the last aside for future use, because the state of his ass after just the first day made him think that it would be highly useful by day three.
Spock allowed him to nap as long as it was in his arms, and when he awoke near dinnertime to Spock’s hands sliding down his back to grope his ass, he wrapped his arms around his bondmate’s neck and said, before Spock could ask, I’m yours.
☆☆☆
Eighty hours after the last time Jim had left the bridge, the plak tow reached fever pitch. His sense of time had entirely abandoned him, but he felt the itch of want under his skin even before he registered Spock’s uneven breathing and blown-out pupils in the dim light. Spock’s hands against his back pressed hard enough to bruise, and when Jim called his name down the bond he received nothing in return but waves of possession and need.
“Spock,” he said aloud, voice rough from disuse. He grabbed Spock’s face, forcing him to look at him, and as Spock’s wild eyes focused on him the fever flowing from Spock’s half of the bond intensified until Jim was burning with it too. Against all evidence of human endurance he was hardening against Spock’s thigh, and he knew the moment Spock registered it because Spock rolled them, pressing him into the mattress, grinding down against him. He gasped under Spock’s weight, at the sudden friction of skin on skin. Spock’s head dropped against his neck, and he arched up at the feeling of his bondmate leaving another mark on the abused skin there. He had stopped looking at himself in the mirror after finding the necklace of hickeys Spock had left on the second day.
What do you want? Jim asked, but there was no response in words. He just felt the overwhelming needneedneed from Spock, the bone-deep urge to crawl inside Jim’s skin and live there, the need to make Jim orgasm again and again until he was shooting blanks, the need to claim him body and soul.
After three days of marathon intercourse he needed very little warmup, and he lost the entire rest of the day to the fever dream of his bondmate’s need. Spock was pressing him into the mattress, pulling him into his lap, holding him against the wall of their room and then the shower, and Jim had given up entirely on actively participating. He clung to Spock’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck, and between them flowed a river of yours, yours, yours and mine, mine, mine until he no longer knew who was claiming whom.
☆☆☆
At some point in the night Jim had fallen asleep, and he was reasonably certain that that had been the only reason Spock had finally been convinced to stop moving. But the urgency that had flooded the bond the previous day had abated, and Spock was sleeping next to him when he awoke.
He sat up, trying not to disturb Spock, but Spock’s eyes opened as soon as he had registered the flare of pain from pressure on his ass. He hissed out a breath as Spock sprang up, lifting him from the bed, holding him in his arms so he wasn’t putting any weight anywhere near his tailbone. Spock was still nonverbal, it seemed, but the bond pulsed with question and concern.
Baby, please. Can you grab the regenerator from the medical pack? Jim asked. Rather than set him down to retrieve it, Spock carried him across the room and settled them both in Jim’s chair as he grabbed the regenerator. For the first time in days, he saw a flicker of Spock’s normal disposition in his eyes as he turned it over to read the instructions. He stood, carried Jim back to the bed, and carefully flipped him over to deposit him on his stomach before rereading the instructions.
Jim slept on and off for the next four hours as Spock methodically and deliberately applied the dermal regenerator to and in his abused ass. The blood fever had abated enough that the lust had taken a backseat to Spock’s worry, and when his rear felt mostly back to normal Spock pulled him into his lap again and let him sleep for another few hours.
When the fever reared its head again later in the evening, some of the urgency had faded and Spock took his time bringing them both to orgasm twice. They fell asleep wrapped in each other and when Jim awoke again, it was morning.
He opened his eyes to find Spock watching him fondly, smoothing his hair back with a hand that was no longer shaking with need.
Hey, love, Jim said.
Ashayam, Spock said--- his first actual word in days--- and bent to kiss him. Kissing had fallen by the wayside in favor of wantonly gasping in each other’s mouths the past few days, and Jim was content to lay here and neck like teenagers for a while.
He eventually asked, Is it over?
Almost, Spock said, and Jim could feel through the bond the difficulty he had thinking in Standard. Jim curled up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Spock sat up and pulled him into his lap. Spock mentally tapped on the bond.
Yeah, honey?
Instead of replying in words, Spock kissed the back of his head and pushed the fantasy that Jim had shared with him on the first day back along the bond.
Surprised, he asked, You want to? Spock nodded against the back of his head. He turned in his arms and captured Spock’s lips again, sliding his tongue into his mouth. He readjusted his legs to straddle Spock’s lap and ground down against him as Spock’s hands slid up his back.
He threaded his hands through Spock’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat for Jim to finally, finally leave a retributive hickey on him. He felt the tensing of Spock’s throat as he swallowed. He pressed a kiss to the point of Spock’s ear and asked, Will you give yourself to me?
Under his lips, he felt Spock’s inhale and nod in response, and he pushed Spock down on the bed beneath him.
Spock had always had a shorter refractory period than Jim did --- just one of the unexpected benefits of his Vulcan-human hybrid physiology. But when Spock had explained the mechanics of pon farr to him six months after they’d accidentally bonded and purposefully married, the first thing that Jim had thought about after the preliminary shock was how he could take advantage of Spock having a virtually nonexistent rebound period for their mutual appreciation.
He had to admit to himself that, after the fear and reluctance had melted away, he had enjoyed a week of being the absolute and unchallenged center of Spock’s entire universe, with no responsibilities to distract them. But their relationship had always been one of give and take, and he was ready to give as good as he had gotten.
Jim laid down next to Spock, one leg slung over his, and wrapped his hand around Spock’s dick. Jim had bet that Spock would be hypersensitive, and he was pretty sure he had bet right when Spock arched up, thrusting into his hand immediately. With his other hand he grabbed Spock’s wrist and dragged it to his face so he could slide two of Spock’s fingers into his mouth, and he was rewarded with a choked-off whimper of need. He set a loose pace with his hand, using Spock’s precome as lubricant, and swirled his tongue around his knuckles. Spock slid his other hand under Jim’s head and pulled it to him, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to his hairline. After less than two minutes Spock was keening with need, thrusting with abandon into Jim’s hand, and Jim said, Give it to me.
Spock came, wordlessly moaning even as the bond thrummed with JimJimJimJimJimJim. Jim released his hand from his mouth and kissed along his jaw.
So good, my love. He smeared his hand through the mess on Spock’s chest and slowly trailed his fingers along Spock’s dick. Again?
Spock rolled towards him, pushing his hips against his hand, burying his face in Jim’s neck. Jim lazily stroked him until, an absurdly short amount of time later, he was hard again. He crawled down the bed and Spock sat up to follow, but Jim pressed his hand against his chest and said, Stay.
Spock laid down with reluctance, and Jim laid between his legs and kissed and licked and bit the insides of his thighs until Spock threaded his hand through Jim’s hair and said, Please. Only then did Jim take him into his mouth and suck. Spock arched off the bed again, pushing his dick further into his mouth, and Jim hummed around him. He liked making Spock come; liked knowing that he was the only man to do it, the only one that got to see him fall apart like this. He wanted to take advantage of the pon farr to take him over the edge as many times as he could before Spock insisted on reciprocating. He had wondered how many that would be.
The answer, as it turned out, was six.
☆☆☆
When Jim awoke, it was because Spock’s half of the bond lit back up with the conscious and curious feel of his bondmate’s waking mind at 6:30 in the morning.
Good morning, Spock said when Jim opened his eyes.
Hey. You’re back online, Jim said, and caressed Spock’s face with the back of one hand.
So it seems, Spock said. He rolled over and stretched like a cat, exposing his back and the scratch marks Jim had dug into his skin over the course of the week. Jim ran a fingertip over one of the deeper green lines. They replicated breakfast and lounged in Jim’s bed together, and eventually Jim worked up the courage to look at himself in the mirror again.
He gaped. His neck was virtually one entire bruise, very little of the tan of his skin visible between the mottled purple and green love bites. He was supposed to be on the bridge again tomorrow, and though he did not think his team was under any illusions regarding where he had been, he wasn’t sure how much proof they needed. He stared at himself with chagrin until Spock kissed one of the marks apologetically and pulled him away from the mirror.
When he sat back down on the couch, he pulled out his padd and composed two messages.
Amanda,
Your message was a lifesaver. We can’t thank you enough. It made a huge difference in how the start of the week went. Everyone survived, with way less damage than originally feared.
We love you. Talk soon.
Jim and Spock
The second message was a group message sent via the inter-ship instant messenger.
>JTK: Hey
>JTK: Can one of you please bring a normal regenerator to my quarters? Preferably before my shift tomorrow?
>MBenga: Yes
>MBenga: Anything else? Bandages, antiseptic? Do you need a full physical?
>JTK: Appreciate it, but no
>JTK: I’m actually in perfect health. Honest
>MBenga: So the regenerator…?
>CChapel: omg
>CChapel: on the way
>CChapel: i want to see your historic hickeys
>STS: You will not be entering the quarters.
>JTK: Real professional, Christine
Jim set down his padd and pulled Spock down to rest against him. He kissed his forehead and said, We survived.
Indeed. With far less physical trauma than I had envisioned.
Do you think you’re going to be on a seven-year cycle? Or no?
I do not know. Why do you ask, ashayam?
I have ideas for next time.
Spock’s indignant and aloud, “Already?” was worth every bruise.
Trektober Day 19: Transporter. Spirktober Day 19: Protect.
[ID] A digital painting of Spock kneeling on the transporter pad beside Kirk. He’s placing a hand on his leg, near a rip in his trousers through which you can see two large cuts. Kirk is smiling tiredly with his eyes closed, and he has two more cuts on his face across his cheek and above his eye. There’s mild bruising to his face, and he’s holding his left arm out in front of him, which has a bandage on it. He is surrounded by several golden-yellow specks of light, as he has just materialised on the transporter pad. A watermark in the bottom right hand corner reads M.H. [End ID]
