Extension of the scene in Spock's quarters in Wrath of Khan that always gets my squee gland churning. This lovely piece was sitting in my H drive for seven months, waiting for me to finish. My amazing partner-in-smut, The Weird Shipper, urged me to get off my ass and finish a fic already! Much love to her.
Sorry about all the angst. SadnessKirk is sad.
Disclaimer: Do not own Star Trek.
Title: Disappear Here
Author: BlackWidowPretty
Summary: The years will make some things waste away, while others become stronger than ever.
Rating: Very big M. NC-17. What have you.
Warnings: Slash. Sex between two men. Yaoi. Whatever you would like to call it. Some angst, some fluff. Also, spoilers for the Wrath of Khan.
"If I may be so bold, it was a mistake for you to accept promotion."
Kirk knew. He regretted the decision every minute, more and more as he watched the years skip past laughing at him, who was stuck in the past. A past of golden uniforms and a young spirit he'd watch drift away into the dusty files of Admiralty. This wasn't his place. At times, there was nothing more he wanted to do than rip the insignia off his uniform, smash the award from his wall, go back to the way things used to be. His heart longed for that endless stretch of unmapped space, the danger, the thrill.
But there was no denying the truth. He wasn't that person anymore. He didn't look it, didn't feel it, and no one else saw him that way anymore.
"Commanding a starship is your first, best destiny."
Kirk beamed inwardly. Except Spock. Spock always seemed to see something Kirk was convinced didn't exist. He reached deep at times to pull out that dying spark somewhere under the fraying ego and lasting stubbornness.
And yet, hearing Sock give voice to what he'd been feeling all this time shoved the point painfully home. The flames of the Vulcan meditation candles flickered, the only fire in James Kirk's hazel eyes for the moment as he was reminded of the life he'd let spoil the day he accepted admiralty. What a waste. To let all this time pass by, when a simple refusal would have had him shooting out into space again, his rightful place in the center of that bridge. He saw himself a decade ago, that rock of authority, the epitome of strength and tenacity. Never backed down, never gave up.
And now who was he?
"I would not presume to debate you." He tried to speak without the grief that hovered just under the surface.
"That is wise," the Vulcan replied.
Kirk smiled, turning to Spock. Whether or not the comment was meant as a tease, it made Kirk feel better. One consolation for the decisions he had made was the man sitting in front of him now. He would have given up long ago had Spock not been there to pull him through. The years had drawn on Spock's face also, though not ungracefully so. The skin slightly softened over time, the first soft creases of age edging his eyes. But in those eyes burrowed intelligence, experience, spirit. Things not even his Vulcan half could take away.
"In any case," Spock continued in his rough voice, "were I to invoke logic, logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
Kirk's smile grew sad, his voice almost a murmur. "Or the one."
They looked at each other a moment quietly, each letting the other absorb what they had said. Then Spock stood, his black dress robes swinging with the movement of his body, and stepped towards Kirk, his hands clasped behind his back. He brought with him a distinctive pleasant smell like strong honey and Kirk allowed it to swim around him and he breathed it in.
"You are my superior officer," Spock said, close enough that Kirk felt the air of the words on his face. "You are also my friend. I have been, and always shall be yours."
Kirk gazed softly at his lifelong companion, heart touched by the words he provided. It was hard enough for the Vulcan to acknowledge feelings of such affection in himself, let alone voice it for others. And even so, the words themselves were simple, but the meaning behind them was clear.
What would I have done without you? he wonders. His smile is deeply affectionate, thankful.
He sighed softly, eyes flickering down at his feet for a moment as he moved closer to Spock, mere centimeters away now. Spock probes his eyes deeply, something more meaningful than any emotion in his gaze. Kirk pulled his hand from behind his back to rest on Spock's shoulder lightly. Leaning forward slowly, he let his mouth brush Spock's tentatively, offering his lips if the other would take them.
And, after a moment, he did, kissing James Kirk feather-softly, letting his eyes slide close when Kirk kissed him back, fingers sliding across to hold Spock's head gently to his, thumb stroking a pointed ear. Spock shivered at the touch, heat pulsing unbidden through his veins. Kirk's bottom lip fit neatly between his own and he leaned into his mouth, deepening the kiss eagerly.
Kirk had a vision: years ago, he and his Vulcan trading innuendo shamelessly, the stolen kisses in the turbo lift, the fiery, desperate embraces when they rarely made love. Through the dull link he felt when he touched the Vulcan now, a familiar tinge of reawakened desire linked tendrils to his own mind, poking through the crumbled wall of logic. His stomach tightened at the need that pushed through that link and he brought his other arm around Spock, holding him secure to him. Spock's thin fingers, delicate at Kirk's side, stroked across his ribs through the cloth of his uniform.
Kirk pulled away slightly, brushing his lips along Spock's jawline, and rested his chin in the scoop of Spock's neck with a quiet sigh, still holding him close. They swayed gently in the partial darkness of Spock's room, and Kirk felt a small sting of melancholy. This never happened anymore. They never seemed to have this time, this shared piece of passion. Something was always in the way.
Kirk sighed again, twisting a few locks of Spock's smooth hair between his fingers. "How long has it been?" he whispered sadly. He didn't specify. But he knew he didn't have to.
Spock's breath tickled Kirk's ear when he replied. "Approximately seven years, four months."
Kirk's brow creased with regret. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He tightened his arms around Spock, kissing his shoulder.
They stood for a few more moments, not seeming to want to give each other up. Kirk remembered where he was supposed to be now. The bridge, taking care of the issue with Regula I. More duties, more responsibilities. More and more wasted time. Too much.
"Too long…" Kirk breathed, nuzzling along Spock's cheek and finding his mouth again in a deep, hard kiss that made Spock grunt softly. After a moment, Spock tilted his head back to more deliberately mold their mouths together and Kirk let his fingers brush pointed ears again, relishing the shudder that passed through Spock. There was a sad, aching need burrowed in his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was Spock's or his own. The link between their minds that had frayed and weakened over years of idleness and unuse, was slowly, strand by strand, weaving back together again.
As if levees of a great river were broken, both of their minds were flooded with the thoughts of the other. Visions of painful desire, pushed away to stale in depths of memory; hollow, unfulfilled longing that stabbed their hearts over time, the knife of this longing stuck in the wound, not even possessing the decency to let them bleed. But amidst the aching and yearning was overwhelming sensations of devotion, unbreakable bonds of companionship, and the sweet, honey coated feeling of the love between them, untouched by even time or desire's blade.
Through the emotion and memory, the form of their separate consciousnesses, strands tendrils of thought linking to each other, mixing, mixing, churning, joining, solidified what was left of their bond in a massive sensation of completeness.
'Jim,' Spock's consciousness whispered as it brushed against the other's, a mental caress.
'Spock…' Kirk's mind echoed, pleading even without voice.
Kirk broke their kiss with a noise in his throat, met Spock's dark eyes with his own momentarily helpless ones. He grasped the shoulder of Spock's uniform, and the Vulcan reflected back that loss of control for just a fraction of a second. But it was enough.
Kirk just as quickly resumed their connection, crushing their mouths together in near desperation to maintain the link between their minds that they had lost for so long. Spock parted his lips in a barely audible moan and allowed Kirk's tongue access to probe against his, the force of the kiss making them stumble until Spock's back thumped against the wall, his leg hitting his meditation bench. But he barely noticed, fully committing his quickening breath, his lips, his tongue to Kirk, feeling through their link empty slots filling up again, substituting loneliness for heat and passion. His fingers twisted through dark curls, holding Kirk solidly to him, even though his lips were starting to swell and his lungs starving for oxygen.
Kirk pressed Spock hard against the wall, their legs interweaved, claiming Spock's mouth over and over again, each time Spock's responding kiss driving more heat into his veins, his mind swirling in a combination of their mixing emotion and lack of oxygen. One arm curled around the small of Spock's back, the other hugging Spock's neck, not allowing any other escape. He felt Spock's already hardening organ against his thigh, his own quick arousal pushing at the material of his pants, throbbing, begging for more contact. Finally, Spock had to give up Kirk's lips to breathe, but they didn't loosen their hold on each other, Kirk kissing along Spock's neck, pulling his head down to clip the tip of a pointed ear with his teeth. Spock gasped sharply, roughly fisting the material of Kirk's uniform shirt as a shudder raked through his body. Kirk's breathy chuckle turned into a soft groan when Spock's hips grinded against his, the marvelous friction on his groin making him feel weak with need.
This need must have been communicated, perhaps tenfold, because the moment Kirk's hands started to migrate to remove Spock's black robes, thin fingers blocked them gently and began to work on the belt around Kirk's middle with swift grace. Kirk panted softly into Spock's chest as he undid the belt and the clasp at Kirk's shoulder, and opened his uniform shirt to reveal a muscled chest that swelled with each deep breath, smooth, human skin that had started to dampen with sweat, down to his soft belly, which had collected, visibly, a few of the extra calories over the years.
But it was so beautiful to Spock. So amazingly tender, yet unbreakable, so delicious to his eye, he soon pleasured his tongue in the exquisite taste of the human's skin, kissing along his collarbone, brushing his lips over a hardened nipple, ducking to flick his rough tongue along Kirk's navel and back up to capture the human's mouth again. All this he did in less than five seconds, but it was enough to make Kirk squirm helplessly, and when their lips molded together again, he hastily removed his shirt behind his back, eager for his bare skin on Spock's. Their tongues battled between teeth as Kirk tugged impatiently at Spock's robes with one hand, the other pinching the tip of Spock's ear again, making his point clear and unavoidable to the Vulcan.
Spock made embarrassing sounds from his throat at the fire that sped through him every time Kirk moved against his throbbing groin, pulling at his robes, teasing his ear and his lips mercilessly. His fingers ran along the human's bare torso, trying to touch, feel, memorize everything at once. The sensations of his exploration were breathtaking; rapid heartbeat that pounding endlessly, the purr of Kirk's churning, heated blood, the sigh of his lungs as he groaned into Spock's ears when the fingers brushed the straining material of his pants, the fever against these fingers when they searched a little lower…
Kirk broke their kiss again, groaning loudly and pressing his forehead against Spock's chest, grabbing fistfuls of Spock's robes.
"Not fair," he gasped. Tiny beads of sweat were starting to gather at his hairline and collect along his spine, rolling to the small of his back and sliding under the band of his pants, which were, unfortunately, still on.
Though control had long abandoned him, Kirk was beginning to fully feel it, the exhilaration of helpless need and passion, and the overwhelming sensations the Vulcan provided to his writhing body. He leaned on Spock's torso for support, one arm against the wall as he began to move against Spock's waist. He felt thrills pass through Spock to him when he rocked his hips against the other, returning the tease that threatened to push them both over the edge. He finally found purchase on the ties of Spock's robes and loosened them with quivering fingers.
Spock's skin like fire, he searched the contours of Spock's body, ghosting over the areas he knew made him tremble, stripping away his clothing until they were both shirtless, skin against buzzing skin. Their heartbeats mixed together in their senses, their strengthening link a highway of torrid emotion, as they teased and tasted each other's skin, until their lips alone were not enough.
They held each other tightly, burning, pink skin on flushed green, moving against each other. Kirk fought to concentrate against the feeling, but his knees folded weakly. Spock caught him and they both eased gently to the floor, hot mouths connecting again. They both so desperately needed this, together, senses bubbling over with sensations of hunger and flame.
Kirk shuddered underneath Spock as he moved, already trying to thrust against him. "Damnit…Goddamnit…" he hissed, breath so swift it barely gave him voice. It felt so good…
But he needed more.
His fingers started to move, almost frantically, to the waist of Spock's trousers, searching for the clasp as Spock's undulating hips created white hot waves of fire through his belly. But Spock blocked his hands again, and Kirk groaned impatiently as Spock kissed down his damp chest. His back arched reflexively each time Spock moved against him, though he tried to control it. He attempted weakly to stop the Vulcan, trying to get his hands to the clasp of Spock's trousers again, and grunted when his hands were stopped once more. Both were breathing too quickly to speak, so Spock let his mind wrap around Kirk's
'I do not wish to hurt you,' came the echo inside his consciousness. And with each of Spock's movements, the pressure in Kirk's lower stomach intensified.
'You won't….Please…' his mind begged. 'I need…' The rest of the thought was a swirling mix of memories and sensation, which he pushed into Spock until he had no choice but to share the need, and pulled himself away from Kirk, hastily undoing the belt of his trousers. Kirk groaned in anticipation, tremors raking through him as he started to shakily remove his own uniform pants. Spock leaned down to take Kirk's mouth again, harshly and roughly, biting his bottom lip in an effort to get back some control. But with all clothing shed and the full lengths of their bodies entwining, heating and buzzing with the intensity of their arousals, all control fled.
Spock's delay in possessing Kirk's body had wrung the last bit of patience from them both. Kirk all but forced the Vulcan to kneel between his legs, short bursts of heat driving him ever toward release. Spock's senses were overwhelmed with boiling fever and the exquisite noises Kirk made when he lowered himself over the human and ran his tongue along the skin above his frantically beating heart. Though he wanted nothing more than to minimize Kirk's inevitable pain, when Spock took the first short plunge into oblivion, everything they had left was lost.
There was no stopping the flow of fervor and feeling through their bodies, though pain was not scarce among it. Spock's hard, relentless movements gave Kirk's body very little time to accept the sudden fullness. But the more it hurt, the harder Kirk fought back, meeting each thrust with an arch of his back, searching for that glorious, long-awaited release no matter what it took from him. He corkscrewed his eyes shut against scorching discomfort, and bared his teeth in a throaty moan that Spock answered with one of his own, hands on either side of Kirk's head, giving him all he had to offer. Kirk's fingers dug into Spock's arms and bright colors swam in front of his eyes as the pressure in his groin intensified when Spock reached that place inside him that overrode all the pain. And the resulting waves of pure, deep pleasure that emanated from them both were engulfing. Their pace quickened, grew stronger with each second as they searched for that final release.
And with a duet of keening moans that broke from both of their throats, it came, and the link between their minds was scorched with the blistering intensity. Stars spun and exploded behind Kirk's eyelids as the pressure in his belly erupted and spread to every inch of his body, awaking and igniting every nerve. Spock's arms gave out, and he collapsed onto Kirk's heaving chest, sleek black hair mussed with sweat, Kirk's fluids warm and wet between their stomachs. Kirk's fingers left half-moon dents in Spock's forearms as they tightened and squeezed in response to his crippling climax, then slackened enough for Kirk to wrench them free and wrap his arms around the Vulcan's shoulders, holding him tight next to his thundering heart.
They fought to catch their breath, the heat and excitement slowly seeping out of them, leaving them spent and exhausted. Kirk perhaps more so. He had forgotten how physically and mentally exerting Spock could be, especially now, after seven years of careful control. 'So much for all that,' he thought tiredly with a breathy laugh, feeling himself already start to fall away, too drained to even open his eyes. His arms fell slowly to his sides. His mind brushed Spock's in a soft mental kiss, and was wrapped in Spock's consciousness as if it were the softest blanket, and he slipped into a clear, light sleep.
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
When Kirk awoke, a few minutes later, it was to the brief sting of Spock's careful withdrawal, the pain forcing itself to be remembered. He hissed softly, turning his head to the side to hide the wince from Spock. But he knew, and sighed with regret, the air tickling Kirk's chest. He left his eyes closed for a moment, feeling Spock strain to the side to fish his robes out of their pile of discarded clothes, drawing them over their bodies to shield them from the chill of air on bare skin. He then propped himself up against Kirk's chest, and Kirk felt the slight tug of Spock's fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He smiled, eyes still closed. Of course. Spock's infatuation with smoothing and resetting his hair at times like this had still lingered around even after all this time. Kirk laughed softly through his nose and opened his eyes slowly to meet the dark brown ones inches above his face.
Spock tilted his head, gazing at him as his fingers combed through Kirk's dark curls, thumb brushing the bridge of his nose. Kirk blinked his yes slow and childlike with each caress, drinking in the open sensations when fingers ghosted over the meld points on his forehead. Spock's eyes smiled down at his lover and he closed the few inches between them to kiss him gently, lips sweet and tender, though their position just a few minutes previously had been anything but. Kirk took two of Spock's fingers and ran his thumb along the pads, smiling into their kiss when Spock responded with a shudder.
Spock broke their contact and Kirk could see a slight crease of regret on his brow. He couldn't help but feel a small twist of apprehension in his chest. Had he done something wrong? But Spock let his fingers migrate down one still-flushed cheek and to the seam of Kirk's lips, fingertip brushing tenderly between. When he pulled his finger back, a little drop of blood shown in the light of the now low-burning candles.
The Vulcan inspected it, guilt crawling across his features. "Kobayashi Maru," he murmured, and wiped the blood away, looking disturbed.
Kirk let a wounded pout play about his lips. "Oh, now…" He lifted the hand he was holding and traced the lines of the palm with his fingertips. "Surely there's something to be won here."
Spock's eyes flickered half-mast, then back open again, a slight tremble to his hand. But he would not let Kirk win so easily. He shifted against the human in a manner that made Kirk's breath catch in his throat. "Perhaps you are right," he replied, and continued smoothing Kirk's hair innocently.
Kirk made a hoarse noise of agreement, then cleared his throat, his cheeks warm. Spock's dark eyes glittered devilishly as his thin fingers caressed Kirk's scalp.
Kirk gazed up into those deep, familiar eyes, letting them feed a glow in him that warmed up his lonely insides and gave his heart hope. Then his gaze flickered to the creases of age around those eyes, and he thought of the wrinkles that had already begun to sprinkle around the edges of his own face. Pessimism cruelly invaded his comfort, and soon images of old, weak limbs and graying hair.
Spock spotted the change in Kirk's expression. "Does something trouble you?"
Kirk smiled, though it only reached his eyes for a moment, and sighed, his eyes going to their hands and studying the mess of fingers at the base of their bare forearms. "No. Just…" His brow creased and his mouth tightened at a corner, thoughtfully. "I feel like we're running out of time."
Spock was silent for a moment, thumb tracing the lines of Kirks brow, then let out his own quiet sigh and lowered his forehead to the other's, eyelashes flitting over his cheek. "For you, Jim, " he said in a low, comforting voice, "I have all the time in the world."
Kirk's small smile became truer and he turned his head, nose brushing just below a pointed ear. He placed a kiss there and squeezed their hands together more tightly, not wanting to ever leave this little world they had made for themselves, flesh against flesh, sharing each breath and whispering thoughts of affection between each other.
The word time echoed around in Kirk's mind and soon realization struck him and he groaned, curling his lip in remembrance. He started to twist out of Spock's embrace.
"Damn," he grunted, sitting up as Spock gently rose away from him. "What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand and reaching for his clothes with the other.
"Approximately 17:30 hours."
"I should be on the bridge," he muttered, pulling on his uniform pants, cheeks coloring with self-consciousness at the nakedness of his not-so-limber form. Spock's eyes smiled over at him as he tugged his robes over his shoulders.
They both dressed silently, occasionally catching each other's eyes and trading loving glances for a few moments before looking away again. Spock turned the lights higher and blew out his meditation candles, then smoothed his sleek hair in the mirror on the wall. Kirk beamed at him in the reflection, buckling the clasps of his uniform. He then stepped towards his Vulcan as he turned and stole a soft but lingering kiss. He pulled back and studied Spock's face, hazel eyes deep with affection.
"I promise we won't have to wait so long next time," he whispered. "I promise."
Spock looked down briefly and touched two fingers to the back of Kirk's hand.
"And I promise also."
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O
Several hours later, as Spock slumped against the transparent door in the engine room, face cut with ribbons of dark green, Kirk felt his heart tear to pieces in his chest. His palm was sweaty and cold against the glass, and his body felt rigid as if it was he who was dying, letting the darkness claim him and the life flee out of him.
He never knew just how long he would have to wait.
Title stolen from Bret Easton Ellis' book, "Less Than Zero". Highly recommend it for fans of "Catcher in the Rye". .
Hate it? Love it? Want to throw giant cookies at the screen because you can't decide? Whichever, I thank you for reading. R & R if you're up to it, don't if you're not. :P
~BlackWidowPretty