A/N: So, I had a prompt to write some good old fashioned Kirk/Spock smut, and it kind of ended up taking on a life of its own; this is basically the end product, angry hate sex set just after that choking incident on the bridge! This is my first time ever writing K/S smut, so fingers crossed that this is okay and that you all enjoy it!
I want to say thank you for all the amazing support I've received from you lovely people out there since I started writing ST fic! As always, if there's anything you want to say - good or bad - then reviews are always appreciated :)
As always, I don't own anybody here :(
Enjoy! :)
To say that Jim was pissed was an understatement.
Every yeoman and bridge officer within a fucking thousand miles knew that Jim was pissed. As he stormed down the winding corridors towards the main officers' quarters, his eyes burning with anger and his teeth gritted with so much force that they were practically bending, everyone scattered.
Jim wasn't normally a violent man – he really was more of a lover than a fighter in every sense of the word, even if his wild days at the Academy said otherwise sometimes – but in that moment, he couldn't stop the red mist that was clouding his mind as he marched closer to his destination.
The bruises around his throat made it hard to breathe, the skin on fire from the strength of the sense memory of Spock's fingers wrapped tight around it, but that only spurred him on further. He knew that he deserved what Spock had done to him on the bridge; it was a low-blow, sure, but it was a necessary one. After all, he had to get Spock out of that chair, and really, with him parading around that mask of Vulcan superiority and smugness all the time, he didn't leave Jim with any other reasonable option.
No, what pissed him off was just how much Spock had humiliated him, had practically snapped his neck in front of the crew he was supposed to be setting an example to. What pissed him off was the slight smirk he saw on Spock's lips when he was gasping for breath, before the barriers had slammed back down and that wave of human emotion – of human hatred and despise – had disappeared from view once more.
Hell, Spock had always managed to fucking piss him off, since all the way back in the Academy and that stupid Kobayashi Maru test when he refused to concede that he had managed to outsmart him, since he'd had the nerve to throw his father's name back at him with such coolness and arrogance that Jim had had to resist the urge to cross the court and beat those stupid pointy ears off his stupid Vulcan head.
Greatest command team in Starfleet his ass, he snorted; obviously the Elder Spock hadn't counted on the younger Spock being such an irritating bastard.
Okay, he reasoned rationally for a second, he didn't really have much of an excuse to be so pissed off with Spock, but that didn't really stop him. Being stuck in space for weeks, in such close contact with a wide variety of people – fine, mainly Spock – meant that he was getting antsy, and there was no better cure for that then to beat the shit out of something until he felt normal again.
Spock just happened to piss him off.
When Jim rounded the corner, coming face to face with the door to Spock's quarters, Jim didn't even bother trying to be courteous and let Spock know that he was there; after all, if Spock had given him no warning to the fact he was going to throttle him across the control panel, then Jim certainly wasn't going to give him any warning back.
Within a few feet of the door, Jim growled out "Computer, engage Captain's Override Alpha Four." He couldn't help the slight smirk of satisfaction that crossed his face when he was able to address himself as captain, nor when the door to Spock's quarters slid open without any complaint.
He was the captain now, not Spock, and that meant he could discipline his crew any which way he saw fit; not even stupidly irritating Vulcan logic could argue with that regulation. Storming into the room, Jim's eyes immediately locked on Spock's position.
Spock didn't even have the gall to lookup from the desk and the papers he'd been perusing, but the way his hand clenched tightly into a fist around his PADD stylus, the muscles in his back tensing, and the heated inflection on his normally even tone told Jim that Spock was apparently wound up just as tight as he was.
"I do not believe you have any right to enter my personal quarters without warning me, acting Captain." As Spock almost snarled out those words, he finally lifted his eyes from the desk to glare straight at Jim, and the tension in the air became suffocating.
For some odd reason, one that Jim knew he'd probably be unable to discern once this was all over, the presence of an obviously pissed off Vulcan – a Vulcan 3 times stronger than him who had no trouble wrapping his hands round his throat – didn't make Jim rethink his strategies; if anything, it only made him more angry than before.
"You absolute motherfucker, what the hell was that all about, huh? Are you really that fucking desperate to be the perfect little Vulcan that you had to try and take me out?" Jim's voice only got louder with every word, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Bones could hear him all the down in Sickbay, getting a Bio-bed all ready for at least one of them.
Spock's eyes turned icy, the loud snap of the stylus breaking clean in two in his curled hand almost echoing around the ship. "I only reacted within my parameters to a clearly unstable and violent threat that was presenting itself. Now, I will be forced to warn you that if you do not remove yourself from my quarters, I will not be held accountable for my actions."
Jim scoffed, laughing out loud as he closed in on Spock, his hands tightening sporadically by his side. "You will not be held accountable for your actions? I don't give a shit about what you and aren't accountable for, Commander. You think that a couple of fancy words and I'll be leaving with my balls quaking in fear? You've got it all wrong, I'm no longer some fucking cadet for you to push around and jump through hoops, you can't threaten me with shit. I'm your fucking Captain, I'm in charge, and so help me God, I could have you demoted so fucking fast that not even your worthless logic will be able to tell you what the fuck hit you!"
By this point, Jim was leaning over the table, his hands lying flat either side of Spock's arms and his face mere inches from Spock's, gazing down on him with such vitriol and authority that anyone else would've been begging for forgiveness.
But Spock wasn't anybody else.
"You seem to be forgetting your place, acting Captain, and although I am unwilling to provide you with repetition of my warning from 2.4639 minutes ago, I am forced to say that for you to argue my demotion based on some human… some human impulse of emotion is one that the Admir-"
Spock hadn't even finished his sentence before all of Jim's rational thoughts fled and he snapped. Fisting his hands into Spock's science shirt, Jim pulled him from the chair and backed him into the wall, never once letting go or surrendering his position of control.
It took mere seconds for Spock to regain his equilibrium, and when Jim released his grip with one hand, balling it into the fist and pulling back ready to connect, Spock immediately let out a completely unVulcan roar of anger, blocking the punch midway before throwing one of his own, catching Jim flush on the chin and causing him to stumble back a few steps into the centre of the room.
Jim could barely see anything now but the thick red mist that had descended on him and the sight of Spock advancing on him, and he couldn't stop himself from charging into the Vulcan, desperately trying to regain the upper hand.
The sound of crashing PADD's hitting the floor; flesh hitting flesh; the floors shaking beneath them with the violent ferocity of each and every strike became the most piqued of soundtracks to the grunts, groans and moans that filled the air as they both battled for dominance. Blood, both red and green, decorated their hands, flowing freely from split lips, split eyebrows and broken noses – well, Jim's nose at least – as they both let loose the deluge of rage and blistering hatred that had been building up in the two of them for weeks, finally reaching its fever pitch.
It wasn't until Jim was unceremoniously thrown to the ground, pinned on his back with an enraged Vulcan glaring back down at him that Jim began to very slowly realise through the haze of pain and blurriness that this might not have been his best idea.
Sure, he felt a hell of a lot better than he had for weeks, months even, but the bitter hatred for Spock had barely diminished, and the fact that he was now in a very compromised position with Spock straddling him meant that Jim was probably going to come away from this with much worse than a bruised throat.
He distantly hoped that someone would pick this as the perfect moment to knock on the door, or to comm one of them, just so that he'd still make it to Alpha shift in the morning. However, as Spock's hands tightened viciously around the wrists pinned hard above his head, Spock leaning forward over Jim so that his forehead was resting against Jim's, the rage that had permeated the air was undercut with something else.
It wasn't until Spock ground down against him and Jim found himself involuntarily letting out a breathy moan that Jim realised what that something else was. Spock was hard. More importantly, and to his own surprise, he was hard too.
Spock noticed this, and was now grinding his hips down insistently into Jim's, seeming to take vicious pleasure in the way that Jim could barely restrain the moans now clawing at his throat, Jim's rage only boiling over further as he tried to fight back against the position that Spock had him in.
He couldn't really give a shit if this ended up happening, but he'd be damned if he would let Spock beat him and fuck him too; Spock, however, only pinned Jim down harder against the floor as he struggled, his eyes blazing with fury and arousal that was completely at odds with the Vulcan mask of aloofness and emotionlessness he'd perfected for months as Jim spat in his face. D
espite the burgeoning anger that was only intensifying with every second that passed, it was getting harder and harder to hold back the lust and carnal hunger that the physical fight had brought out in both of them, their thrusts against each other only becoming more blatant and fierce as Spock closed the gap between them, his mouth crashing down against Jim's.
It wasn't a soft or tender kiss; this was a kiss full of hatred, full of dominance as teeth clashed against each others, as tongues forcibly entered mouths and as lips became swollen and bloody with the sheer brutality and force they were fighting each other with. It was one that both tasted bitter, yet still only mollified the anger between them until it played in almost pleasurable harmony with the fire burning in their blood.
The naked contact between their lips brought down all the shields around their minds, and as one of Spock's hands tore negligently at Jim's shirt, throwing the strips of fabric across the room as he firmly caressed and scratched at the toned, muscled flesh, Jim could feel the flood of Spock's own emotions attacking him.
Anger, hatred, disgust, irritation, the primitive urges to tear him apart yet to feel every inch of Jim's body as his own, and Spock's own throbbing arousal, Jim felt it all, yet, it didn't make him want to pull away; Spock's own rage, the emotions he never let slip through onto his face, only fed Jim's own more and more, until the thirst to feel everything that Spock did – to realise that Spock hated yet wanted him as much as Jim himself wanted Spock – became insatiable.
With a sudden burst of energy, Jim was able to rip his wrists from the only hand now restraining him, but instead of pushing Spock away or trying to take dominance for himself, Jim found himself frantically trying to get his pants and boxers off, his hands tripping over Spock's in his desperation.
Spock, seeing that Jim apparently wasn't going to challenge him physically for at least a few seconds, leaned back slightly to pull his own uniform off, the pants and blood-stained Science Blues joining Jim's before he started biting down hard on Jim's throat, digging his teeth into the bruises already painted on Jim's skin from the choking on the bridge and the fighting that had been going on mere minutes beforehand.
Jim growled, his anger briefly overpowering his lust as he felt Spock's smug and almost vicious amusement at the fresh marks of ownership being left on him, but when Spock shifted down his body slightly, his leanly muscled abdomen rubbing hard against Jim's weeping erection as Spock used his knees to spread Jim's thighs open, Jim merely allowed the bitter annoyance and hatred to transfer mentally instead.
"I hope you fucking freeze to death on some fucking God forsaken planet somewhere, because the second you're not expecting it, I'm fucking leaving you on Delta Vega to rot, asshole!"
Spock only growled, and Jim's eyes almost shot open in shock when he felt Spock's erection twitch and harden further at his threat; the stupid fucker was getting off on this more than Jim thought, and for some odd reason, that only made Jim's heart thump harder in his chest as his arousal swelled further.
"You forget your place, Jim," Spock hissed mentally, his voice thrumming with power and desire as he positioned the head of his erection against Jim's entrance. "You do not have any power over me, and you never shall. I will never be subservient or acquiescent of your command, for I will never surrender my authority to the likes of you, James Kirk."
At his final words, Spock snapped his hips forward, pushing past the ring of tight muscle at Jim's entrance as he drove his erection into Jim, the double ridges beneath the head making the journey even more painfully pleasurable as they both let out simultaneous moans, their breaths coming in short, shallow pants as they tried to reign in the lust that was threatening to explode.
The pain of Spock's entrance had been intense, brutal and blinding, but Jim found that as Spock slowly began to pull out before thrusting back in just as recklessly, the discomfort became married to the anger and lust swirling through his body until all Jim could feel was ecstasy pulsing through him.
Spock's thrusts were only getting deeper and stronger with each and every moment that passed, Spock's control well and truly abandoning him as he gave himself over to the primal urges coursing through him, and when Jim curled his legs tighter around his waist, digging the heels of his feet sharply into the small of Spock's back, Spock couldn't stop himself from giving out an almost guttural moan.
He knew from his teachings of the Pre-Surak way, of the primitive drives and emotions that drove his Vulcan ancestors, that surrendering to the pleasures of the flesh over the mind usually only ended in war and bloodshed, but as he continued to thrust into the tight, perfect heat surrounding him, continued to listen to how Jim grew more and more responsive and desperate for release beneath him, Spock couldn't believe that something seen as so wrong could feel so good; it felt as essential to him as the air he was breathing, both the physical pleasure of revelling in Jim's body and the mental craving for the dominance and control he was exerting over his superior officer, and he was loath to stop for anything.
Sweat trickled down toned flesh, their muscles aching as their movements became more rough and violent, but the anger-tinged pleasure overrode all physical discomfort as their climaxes begin to pool in the pits of their stomachs. Jim's eyes were half-slit, the pupils dilated with both lust and rage, and as his mouth open and closed in silent moans, Spock felt his carnal hunger spike.
Not caring to weigh up the potential ramifications of his actions, Spock wrapped one hand around Jim's erection, stroking it in time with his savage thrusts, as the fingers of his other hand flew up to hover over the meld points on Jim's face.
Jim let his eyes slip close as he surrendered to the dual stimulation Spock was giving him, and moaning out his assent as he let his desire to take over, Jim's hand covered Spock's, pressing Spock's fingers tight to his meld points as the connection between their minds was ripped open, drowning them both under the sheer maelstrom of emotions flying between them.
Lust, desire, release, anger, hatred, dominance, submission, humiliation, hunger, all of it touching and being touched as the heat drenching their minds reached fever pitch and their climaxes hit uncontrollably, both of them moaning in relief and purged ecstasy as they ejaculated.
As the throngs of blinding pleasure slowly began to ebb away, Jim found himself pinned beneath the dead weight of Spock's body, and the blistering anger and hatred that had died away in the throes of passion came flying back full force.
Gathering together all of his strength, Jim roughly pushed Spock off of him, reaching over to grab his torn Command shirt and wipe the semen from his chest and stomach, before flinging it distastefully at Spock, who laid there staring at Jim, his confusion and anger being pushed forcefully back behind that Vulcan mask that was firmly fixed back in position.
Giving a slight groan of discomfort as his muscles protested the sudden movement, Jim wearily pushed himself up to his feet, taking a few deep breaths in order to slow down the disorientation that was threatening to split his skull. He could still feel the residual traces of Spock in his mind and in his body, but he found the brief flare of anger that flitted through him didn't seem to come anywhere close to the sudden confusion and disbelief that he could feel roiling in his gut.
Stalking over to the bed, he grabbed his pants and underwear, pulling them on roughly before grabbing Spock's black undershirt and yanking that on as well. He tried to keep the irritation out of his actions; he didn't need Spock to know that far from making Jim feel better, the whole sordid confrontation had only made things more complicated.
As the adrenaline faded from his body, Jim could feel the individual aches and pains of every punch, every strike, every bite and every thrust that Spock had unleashed upon him, and as he limped across the room, he glared down at Spock.
Spock was still lying there completely naked, his own hatred and disgust for Jim still visible within his eyes as he stared at the blank ceiling above him, and it was only when Jim nudged his head with his foot that Spock finally acknowledged him; the anger from before was still there, still just as bright, but there was something else in Spock's eyes, some kind of unVulcan like disbelief and shock, and Jim couldn't help the triumphant smirk that crossed his face.
"Now, what was that about you never being beneath me, huh Spock?" Spock went to open his mouth, but after a couple of seconds of silence, he shut it again. Spock was completely speechless. "I expect to see you refreshed and ready for Alpha shift Commander, Captain's orders," Jim drawled, calling out the command code to the computer and keeping his eyes fixed on Spock's as the door slid open.
There was refusal, challenge and fight reflected back at him, a clear sign that Spock wasn't going to let Jim have the last word on this, and it wasn't until Jim stepped out into the corridor, leaving Spock on the floor of his quarters, that Jim letting the full extent of his confusion and annoyance cross his face.
"Stupid fucking pointy eared bastard."
Giving a sigh, he turned and made his way towards the Turbo Lift, deciding to head towards Sickbay. He seriously needed a drink.