Star Trek: Damaged Goods
Jun. 11th, 2009 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corpus_invictusTitle: Damaged Goods
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt found here: "I wanna see a fic in which Spock has a congenital defect or deformity due to his hybrid genetics. Uhura is turned off by what ever it is and dumps Spock. Spock sulks and hates himself until Kirk comes in and saves the day with Epic Reassuring Love Makings. I want emotional depth and details about Spock's problem and how he deals with it. I want SecretlySmart!Kirk being caring but not mushy."
This took SO LONG to finish, I cannot even tell you. I really like Uhura so making her dump Spock over something this shallow was difficult, and then the prompt kind of ran away with me for a bit before I could get to the Epic Reassurance part of the prompt. I'm a little unsure of how this one turned out.
"Captain's Log," Kirk mutters into the recording device in his room. He feels like an idiot doing these, but Spock insists that Starfleet have a complete and accurate record of their missions. It doesn't stop him from feeling like a thirteen year old girl with a diary. Some days he wants to wail, "I broke a nail and no one understands me!" just to give Admiral Pike something to laugh about. He refrains, at least for today. "Crew morale is surprisingly low after finishing trade negotiations on Ipsis. Heading for Coronis to investigate reports of piracy there."
What he really wants to say is, "Suspect Lieutenant Uhura is on the rag and withholding sex from Commanding Officer, and if the Commanding Officer isn't happy, ain't nobody happy." But Spock sometimes gives his recordings a once-over to ensure he isn't sending messages like that back to Starfleet. Since he has nothing more to report, he switches off the device and leans back in his chair, resting his feet on top of his desk.
He isn't reporting much on the crew today because they're being weirder than usual. Uhura has been hunched over her console for days now as if trying to translate a particularly tricky bit of data. Which is stupid, because firstly they're in airspace where Standard is the default language, and secondly she's proficient in a ridiculous percentage of non-Standard languages and shouldn't be poring over a single translation for days in a row. She doesn't respond to anyone - she doesn't roll her eyes at Kirk's jokes or crack a smile at Chekov's warbling mispronunciations. She also, quite pointedly, doesn't look at Spock.
Spock has been acting strangely, too, and Kirk finds it a touch bizarre that he notices any alteration in the man's behavior, seeing as his default is "Stuffy and superior" and it changes very little from day to day. But there's been a subtle shift between the two of them, the friendship an older Spock hinted at starting to develop. As such, Kirk notices when Spock no longer arches an eyebrow at him when he's being unprofessional, when he stops looking up from his console to watch the rest of the crew. He's been silently efficient for days, shoulders tight and tense.
So it doesn't take any special kind of idiot to figure out there are problems between the two of them, but Kirk is at a loss to figure out what. The crew has gotten more used to the idea of the two of them together, or they've at least adjusted to it enough so they don't gawk openly when the two of them touch or, God forbid, steal kisses when they think no one is looking. They almost seem more freaked out when the touching and kissing stops.
The nightly chess matches between Spock and Kirk come to a grinding halt. So do the shared meals in the Mess Hall. And the easy chats on the bridge, in the hallways, in his quarters between chess moves. It seems Spock is limiting himself to the places he's allowing himself to be on the Enterprise: either on the bridge or locked away in his quarters, almost like he's punishing himself for having done something wrong.
Kirk eventually gets tired of eavesdropping on the rumor mill to figure out the problem ("He dumped her because he wants a Vulcan girlfriend!" "Nah, probably asked for some freaky alien sex practice and she didn't wanna do it."). For the last hour of his shift, he and Spock are the only two left on the bridge before the "night crew" takes over. Before Spock can escape to the turbolift and hide himself away again, Kirk barks out, "Mister Spock."
"Yes, Captain?"
"I'm gonna have to put one more thing on your plate before we sign off for the night."
Spock doesn't raise an eyebrow or even move a muscle, just waits for Kirk to give him orders.
"Chess match. My quarters. You've been avoiding them."
Some flicker of emotion passes behind his eyes. "Is this an order or a request?"
Kirk thinks about that. "If I call it a request, are you gonna turn it down?"
Spock hesitates, as if he's thinking about trying to lie. "Yes," he finally manages.
"Then it's an order."
Finally one of those weird angular eyebrows twitches, and Kirk grins at the sight. "I assume this will be logged in our productivity reports."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure you get time and a half or hazard pay or whatever you want." He rises from his chair as the other shift workers start trickling in. "Come on."
It's a much more silent match than he's used to. He's come to enjoy the sidetracked conversations and mild bantering about the day's work while they play, and once in awhile he can use their chats to his advantage, distracting Spock from whatever ridiculous move he wants to pull. It feels awkward and strange playing in silence.
Kirk lets it go on for ten minutes before he decides to just go for it. "So what'd you do to Uhura?"
It feels colder in the room the moment he says it, dark eyes narrowing at him. "It is a personal matter."
"No shit." He moves one of his chess pieces, trying hard to suppress the urge to shiver. It's not actually cold in here, it just feels brittle and freezing. "We're off duty. We can talk about personal matters."
"May I remind you, Captain, that you ordered me here and offered monetary recompense for the trouble."
Kirk rolls his eyes. "For God's sake, Spock, it was a joke."
"Then I have permission to return to my quarters?"
He leans back in his chair with a huff. "I won't order you to stay. I just missed the game and the company."
Spock looks ... almost ashamed of himself, the fury in his eyes dissipating. He keeps his gaze locked on the chess pieces in front of him. "I apologize. I do not believe I am fit for company at present."
He doesn't know Spock well enough to insist that he stay; he could do that with Bones and it wouldn't be a problem, but he's known Bones forever, knows his temper tantrums, knows when he needs to vent to someone and when he needs to be left alone. He's on the precipice of that kind of friendship with Spock, but they aren't there yet and he doesn't want to pry. "Some other time?" he offers.
Spock nods almost imperceptibly and leaves without another word.
*******
It takes another week to get Spock to join him for chess games of his own free will. During that week, Uhura keeps more and more to herself on the bridge, and starts skittering off with Chekov during her free time. Spock watches her distantly and interacts with no one outside of his nightly games with Kirk.
And even though it seems the subject of Uhura is taboo, through their evening games and chats Kirk feels the friendship starting to settle, feel a little more solid under his feet. He's not used to having a support system aside from Bones, and he finds he likes the feeling of comfort and stability.
What he doesn't like is having that stability compromised or endangered. They're exploring what was supposed to be an uninhabited tropical overgrowth planet and when he hears the sickening crunch of a crude club making shrapnel of Spock's shoulder, he throws himself into the fray like it's life or death, fists, feet, and phaser fire flinging every which way. Spock grabs for the communicator and, despite the pain he must be in and the chaos of aliens trying to crush the life out of them, calmly asks Scotty to beam them back to the ship.
There's green pooling over the telepad before Spock has rematerialized fully, and Kirk is relieved to note that Scotty's already contacted Sick Bay. Bones is there seconds after they arrive, his small army of nurses and attendants collecting Spock in a gurney and whisking him off to Bones's office. Relatively unharmed himself, Kirk claps a hand on Scotty's back. "Good work, lieutenant."
"I'm learnin' my way round this ship," Scotty grins back. "If there's loads of screamin' over the communicator, odds are you'll be needin' Doctor McCoy. I'm a wee bit surprised it's the Commander this time - usually you're the one looking like a sack of hurt."
It's only slightly humiliating that Scotty's already learned how often planetside missions turn into disasters. "Yeah, great," he manages distractedly, hopping in the turbolift and heading for Medical Bay.
It's ... not at all what he expects.
Mostly it's because he only gets a glimpse of what's going on in the cot, Spock laid out and looking too pale in the face while Bones runs scanners over him. He sees a flash of too-much green before Spock sees him there, reaching out with his good hand to yank the privacy curtain around the cot.
He's having none of that, already halfway across the room when Bones grabs him by the arms. "Jim-"
"Bones, what the hell's going on in here?" Kirk starts sputtering. "It's just his shoulder, why's he bleeding all over the pl-"
"Jim-"
"-never seen so much green everywh-"
"Damn it, Jim," Bones snarls, shaking him. "He's not dying. We've stopped most of the bleeding. And he wants some goddamn privacy, so get the hell out of my Sick Bay."
He's stopped sputtering now, scowling at him. "I'm the Captain. You can't order me out of here."
"Watch me," Bones retorts, and before Kirk realizes it he's been spun 180 degrees and shoved back out the door. He debates barking out the override code for a full minute before cursing at it and making his way back to the bridge.
*******
Kirk can't help it; he's irritated with Uhura for not being a little more interested in Spock's welfare. Sulu asks how he's doing, Chekov offers to go visit (before Bones calls up to the bridge informing them that Spock will not be taking visitors, no not even from the Captain, for God's sake Jim quit pouting like an infant), but Uhura simply listens to the conversations without so much as a peep of sympathy.
She does, however, have the decency to almost shrink into her station, head drooping and shoulders hunched.
He waits until Sulu and Chekov leave the bridge to collect their meals at the Mess Hall before he rips into her. "Y'know, whatever went down between the two of you, you could at least pretend to give a shit."
"With all due respect, Sir," she murmurs from her station, "shut up."
She's always a bit touchy with him, but he's still shocked that she's spoken to him like that. "Excuse me?"
"My former relationship with the Commander is of no concern to you-"
"Former relationship?" Kirk had known things were rocky between them, but had no idea things had gotten that serious.
"-and I'll thank you to stay out of my personal business."
"It's not personal business when you spend your shifts clinging to your station like you're translating Shakespeare into Romulan and refusing to speak to the Commanding Officer. You have to be able to communicate with him - it's in your job description, for God's sake."
She doesn't look angry at him, which is another surprise. He's gotten used to her temper over the past few months, and it isn't there now. Instead she looks almost ashamed, her eyes wincing shut for a moment before she tries to speak again. "It will be ... strained for awhile," she says quietly, fingers clenching into her console. "But it will pass."
"I sure as hell hope so," he mutters.
*******
He rushes through his entry to the Captain's log when his shift is over, babbling something about Spock's shoulder and Bones getting overly territorial about Sick Bay before he's switching off the recorder and making his way to Spock's quarters.
He has the decency to knock and wait a full thirty seconds before giving the computer the override code.
The door opens to the sight of Spock, just a few footsteps away with a hand raised to unlock it. The corners of his mouth twitch in what Kirk has learned is a Vulcan smirk. "Most visitors would give the injured additional time to dress before they answer the door."
"Most," Kirk agrees gamely, looking him over. He isn't looking so pale anymore, clad only in his black Starfleet trousers and that strange gray bulky-knit thing he wears sometimes during his off-hours. It's supposed to be some sort of traditional Vulcan wear, but it always reminds Kirk of itchy woolen Christmas sweaters. Because he isn't wearing his usual black undershirt, the tunic bares enough of Spock's shoulder to show a heavy duty bandage with green splotches, and Kirk winces at the memory of the green blur on the cot before the curtain was drawn. "How you feeling?"
He walks toward his huge bay window, bare feet making no sound on the floor. "Doctor McCoy provided me with a variety of painkillers and antibiotics. I understand the shoulder will heal in a matter of days."
Kirk chuckles and follows him, sitting next to him on the floor. "I could've gotten that information out of Bones. I asked how you were feeling."
Spock stares at him with an intensity the question wasn't meant to inspire, tilting his head a bit. "I am ... fine." It's like the word is almost a bad taste in his mouth.
Kirk allows the companionable silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. "I hadn't realized you and Uhura broke up."
He can almost feel the tension coiling next to him. Spock fixes his eyes on the starry view, not looking at him. "I had not realized you were interested in the status of our relationship."
Kirk rolls his eyes. "You're my friend. Of course I'm interested."
Spock looks unsure of how to react to that. He hesitates before he speaks again. "Who informed you?"
"Uhura. I was giving her shit for not going to see you in Sick Bay."
"I asked Doctor McCoy to prevent visitors from coming to see me," Spock points out reasonably.
"It's the principle of the thing. She didn't even offer. She didn't talk about it when I told the crew what happened to you. She just kinda sat there."
"And from her behavior, you deduced that we were no longer together?"
"Nah, I figured things were just shaky for you. She told me about the breakup when I accused her of not caring."
Something about that sentence makes Spock's shoulders tense, which forces out a hiss at the sensation of blood clots caving under the pressure and opening again. Spock rubs his arm absently, saying nothing.
"Was there any reason behind it?" Kirk's not sure why he can't let it go. Maybe it's the weird feeling of shame he's been getting from Uhura for the past few days.
More likely it's the echo of it in Spock's eyes. He won't look out the window anymore, gaze fixed on his bare feet. "There was."
Kirk internally rolls his eyes at himself; he should know better than to phrase questions like that. He tries again. "She cheat on you?"
"No."
"You cheat on her?"
"No."
"She start kicking puppies?"
Spock's eyebrows knit together. "Why would that be relevant?"
"You can't sleep with someone who kicks puppies, Spock. You gotta have standards."
He's going for humor, but he wants to kick himself when Spock's eyes turn just a little more miserable. "What was it?" he asks, more serious now.
"Captain-"
"Jim."
Spock won't say the name, but he also doesn't call him Captain again. "I would prefer not to discuss the terms of our parting."
"Why not?"
"Discussing the terms will not reverse the decision that was made, nor will it negate the conditions that led to the decision. It is illogical to discuss a matter that has been firmly settled."
Kirk finds he can't really argue with that. He tries another tactic. "It doesn't have to be logical. Maybe you'd just feel better if you had someone to talk to."
"I speak with you on a regular basis."
He rolls his eyes at himself again. "I meant talking about Uhura."
"I have no desire to talk about Uhura."
Kirk is about to make an ill-advised response to that when another flash of green catches his eye. Spock is still rubbing his injured shoulder absently, and the motions have caused the gray knit tunic to slide down his arms an extra inch or two. There's an angry green mark blossoming on his uninjured arm, and Kirk reaches out without thinking. "What happened, Bones miss this when he was fixing you up?"
Spock explodes from his seat on the floor before Kirk can even touch him, eyes gone wide in terror. "Do not touch it," he hisses, unconsciously moving so his back is against the thick fiberglass window.
Kirk gapes at him openly. "Christ, Spock, if it's that sensitive then Bones needs to-"
"Doctor McCoy has attended to my injuries," Spock interrupts him.
"Well obviously he missed one," Kirk fires back, hand moving towards his communicator.
"There is no need to alert Doctor McCoy," Spock repeats, belatedly adjusting his tunic. "He is fully aware of my condition."
Kirk considers the phrasing of that sentence, blue eyes narrowing. "What condition?"
There's a brief moment of anger darkening Spock's face when he realizes what he's said, followed instantly by that neutral Vulcan mask Kirk despises. "It is a pre-existing condition," he says carefully. "The doctor became aware of it when he performed our routine physical examinations."
"That doesn't answer my question. What condition?"
"It is none of your concern."
The absolute steel in Spock's voice sparks a thought in his head, and in a rushing, heady moment of intuition he suddenly gets it. "This is what scared Uhura off, isn't it?"
"Captain," Spock begins to say, and some of the steel in his voice warbles.
"It's why she didn't even offer to visit you in Sick Bay, I bet."
"Captain," he tries again, his voice wavering a little more.
And Kirk realizes, with stunning clarity, why Spock found no humor in his earlier quip. You can't sleep with someone who kicks puppies, Spock. "She wouldn't sleep with you because of some bullshit condition that makes you turn green?" He's torn between wanting to scream at Spock for not being angrier about this, and wanting to march straight to Uhura's quarters and scream at her instead.
He must have nailed it, though, because Spock says nothing, his back sliding down the window until he's seated on the floor again, arms crossed protectively over his chest and staring resolutely at his knees. He looks ... God, he almost looks like a child, lost and alone, and Kirk leashes the urge to plop next to him and hug him. "Spock," he says quietly, moving closer to him, and then he isn't sure what he should be saying next.
"This is not merely a condition which causes my skin to turn green at unfortunate intervals," Spock says quietly. "It is ... more advanced than that."
Kirk can feel his temper spiking higher than before. When Spock mentioned a 'condition,' he had assumed it was something that made him ill, something that prevented him from functioning like any other Vulcan, maybe even something that made him sterile or asexual. The fact that a few green spots scared Uhura off kind of makes him want to throttle her.
"Do not judge Nyota so hastily," Spock says quietly, and his expression doesn't change when Kirk gapes at him. "You forget that I am a touch-telepath. I cannot read your thoughts but I can feel your anger."
Kirk's fingers squeeze gently around his leg. "I thought you had to have skin-to-skin contact. You can feel that even through the fabric?"
"I am what I am," Spock says by way of explanation, and his head bows down a bit further like he should be ashamed of it. Kirk leashes the urge to hug him again.
He tries to get the conversation back on track. "So why shouldn't I judge her for being scared off by something stupid? It's just skin."
Spocks seems to curl further into himself. "You do not know the extent. You have had only a glimpse of it."
Kirk scoots closer without thinking, his hand moving from Spock's leg to rest over his crossed arms, surprised at the softness of the gray tunic. He leans his head close to Spock's ear. "Show me," he whispers.
Spock remains motionless for a long time; whether he's debating the matter internally or simply refusing to move, Kirk can't tell. Finally he shifts his arms, Kirk pulling back to let him shift and wriggle his way out of the tunic, keeping his injured shoulder immobilized. He reaches to help pull the garment over Spock's head, smoothing his hair back down as Spock peels the remaining fabric off his arm and sets it aside. When he sits back to get a look at him, he can't contain the shock.
Spock's arms and chest are a mess of huge, raised, dark green splotches - less like the scars or minor discoloration Kirk was expecting and more like large, misshapen birthmarks. They wrap around his skin in a strange fashion, interlocking in a few places with equally dark reddish marks. There's no pattern to them, no sense to their construction on his skin, no possible way to make them pleasing to the eye. They're spattered along his upper arms, planted in the middle of his chest, traveling down past the waistband of his pants. He looks as though he's constructed of poorly done patchwork.
Kirk reaches out and presses a hand over the first mark he had seen, the one accidentally uncovered by the arm of the tunic. "Are they painful?" he murmurs, perhaps too late considering he's already touching one.
"No." Spock's voice is strained and thready, and he looks as though he'll bolt at any moment. He's barely keeping himself still under the scrutiny.
Kirk skims his fingers over one of the dark red patches on his pectoral. "Are they more sensitive than the rest of you?"
He squirms, and Kirk can't tell if it's discomfort or simply being unused to being touched. "I do not believe so."
Some spontaneous urge dictates that he lean forward and kiss the one on his arm. "How far down do they go?"
Spock inhales sharply, fingers fisting in Kirk's uniform. "The-" He swallows, tries to regain control over the situation. "The furthest one is behind my left knee."
Kirk processes that, thinks about where else those marks could be, and suddenly understands why Uhura shied away from him. It's shallow, to be sure, but she's been looking ashamed of herself ever since they parted, so at least she knows it's shallow. He smooths a hand down Spock's side, skimming over dark green patches littered over pale skin. "May I see?" he asks quietly. He's not sure why he's asking, he just knows it's important that someone see and accept them without question, or else Spock is going to hide himself away in his quarters until he has the opportunity to be stationed away from Uhura in a few years.
"That would require removing the remainder of my clothing," Spock stalls him, but Kirk can feel him leaning into his hands as if he's starved for touch. Hell, he probably is - if he never got to the point of having sex with Uhura, he's had to content himself with casual touching and stolen kisses for months, and if Uhura outright rejected him when she saw his body ... well, Kirk can't imagine how humiliating that must have been for him.
"Yeah, it would," he agrees easily, still stroking along his skin and waiting for his next move.
Spock finally looks up from the floor and locks eyes with Kirk. The expression is neutral but his eyes are wavering, uncertain. He stares at Kirk for a long time before he moves, pushing his pants down and off his legs and setting them in a pile with the tunic.
Kirk never really feels ... well, naked with all his clothes off. He's got his arrogance and his confidence to pull around him so he doesn't feel so bare. Spock looks like he's had his skin stripped off, and he won't look at Kirk anymore.
Kirk stops trying to meet his gaze and instead begins inspecting the rest of him. There's a particularly widespread blotch on his thigh, the green so dark towards the middle that it's nearly black. He settles a hand on it in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, pressing down just a bit so he'll stop curling up on himself and stretch his legs out.
It takes some coaxing, but Spock finally relents, and Kirk can see all of him. And he can understand, maybe, why Uhura might take off, because the marks spread all the way across his hips, down his groin, and there's a hint of one of them trailing onto the base of his cock. It's definitely weird, alien, seeing skin discolorations that shouldn't be there. But it isn't hideous, and from the vulnerable, terrified look in Spock's eyes, that's what he's come to believe.
Well, Kirk can't have that, because a vulnerable, terrified Spock just doesn't match up with the man he's come to know, trust, love.
Without missing a beat, Kirk throws a leg over him, straddling his lap and cupping his jaw in his hands, grinning at him when he looks up in surprise. "Come on. She was freaked out by a couple of birthmarks? How much of an idiot is she?"
Spock looks like he's scrambling to get out an answer that defends her honor. "It was not what she expected when we-"
"Well that's part of the mystery, isn't it?" Kirk interrupts, not sure he wants to hear the details behind what happened. "You don't know until you get naked, and after that is supposed to come the fun part." He doesn't like the twinge of sadness in Spock's face when he says it, leaning in to press a kiss over the bandaging on his shoulder. "It's a shame she's gonna miss out."
At this Spock finally lifts an eyebrow at him, a shadow of the controlled, ironic First Officer he enjoys irritating. "Are you offering to continue what Uhura was unable to complete?"
"Hell yes," he mutters, lips trailing to his neck, hands pressed into the marks covering his chest.
Spock starts panting a little bit, and it takes him too long to respond. "And if I find the mystery does not meet my expectations?" he murmurs, fingering idly at the hem of Kirk's shirt. Humor is a defense mechanism Spock has only recently picked up from his human crewmates, and he looks unsure of himself once he's spoken.
Kirk grins against his skin, nuzzling at his ear before pulling back to face him. "You better inspect the merchandise first, in that case." He grabs the shirt and the undershirt together, peeling them off and tossing them aside. The pants take a little more work, since he's straddling Spock's lap and isn't willing to move far from his spot, but he manages. He settles back into place, tracing his fingers along the marks on his upper arms, raising an eyebrow at him in unconscious mimicry. "Well?"
Spock takes him in silently for a few moments, hands aimlessly traveling over his shoulders and down his spine. Kirk forces himself not to wriggle under the intensity of his gaze, even though every muscle in his body is screaming at him to pounce. Finally Spock meets his eyes again, and his mouth is relaxed at the corners for the first time in weeks - it's the closest Kirk's ever seen to a smile coming from him, and he smiles in response. "You are adequate," he says with a touch of grandness in his voice.
"High praise," Kirk mutters, leaning in and pressing a kiss over the dark red mark spread over his chest. At Spock's sharp inhale he looks up again. "I thought you said they weren't sensitive."
"It-," Spock clears his throat and tries again. "It appears I was incorrect."
"I love it when you're wrong." And he starts tracing the edge of it with his tongue, hips pressing forward to rub up against him. There's an interested twitch up against his groin, and he grins against Spock's chest, thrilled to be getting some kind of response from him.
He can't kiss any of the marks trailing down Spock's stomach unless he moves out of his lap, and he's enjoying the lazy rhythm between them too much to do that, so he contents himself with pressing kisses along his collarbone and shoulders, dropping a kiss over the bandage even though Spock can't feel it, offering up a silent apology for being the victim of that particular fray. "Broken?" he murmurs against the fabric.
"Mmm," Spock intones vaguely, eyes closing and head dropping against the thick glass. "Fractured," he says a moment later when he realizes he hasn't actually answered the question.
"Made a hell of a noise for just being fractured." He kisses along the newly exposed skin of his throat, one hand threading into his hair as he starts leaving suckling bruises there.
"A greater amount of force is necessary to break Vulcan bone." And while the words sound like one of his usual dry lectures, he's a little too breathless for it to come out properly, hips starting to thrust up against him, hands curled around Kirk's hips.
Kirk very nearly purrs when Spock starts to pick up the pace, licking a thick stripe in his palm before reaching between them, wrapping his fingers around both their cocks and stroking them together. "Just another feature of this amazing body of yours," he rumbles in his ear, scraping his nails lightly over the raised green mark on his arm.
Spock doesn't quite moan, but there's something vibrating in his chest when Kirk scratches at him. He squirms and thrusts into Kirk's hand, trying to speak over the deluge of sensation. "I do not think-"
And before Spock can say anything derogatory, Kirk cuts him off with a kiss, moaning when he feels the protest die on his tongue. He takes his time, lazily mapping out his mouth as he strokes and twists his fingers between them. "It is," he murmurs against his lips as they break away. "Got the strength to kick my ass but you're always saving it instead." He scrapes his teeth over the hint of a dark red mark that must spread over his back, because it just peeks around the nape of his neck. Spock lets out an almost inaudible moan. "Got enough self control to keep from throttling me when I'm annoying you, but you're letting it go now." And as if in answer, Spock's hips surge up against his own, Kirk's fingers feeling shaky as he squeezes around them in response. "You can tell what I'm thinking when I touch you," he wheezes into a pointy ear, pressing a hand over the mark on his chest. "What am I thinking?"
He's never been sure of how this works with Vulcans. He knows it's different from a mind meld - knows that from when he was on Delta Vega - but something comes through in simple touch for them and he concentrates on what Spock will pick up from him: want you, amazing, gorgeous like this, so hot when you're gasping for it. There's no hint of disgust, no trace of hesitation in him, and that more than anything gets under Spock's skin, his eyes squeezing shut and a low groan escaping his mouth.
Spock's hands dig into his hips, a move of desperation and a way to get a little leverage, thrusting up into Kirk's hand and trying to clamp down on the noise he's making. Kirk squeezes and twists around them, trying to hold on until he's managed to undo Spock first, leaning in and whispering, "It's okay. I'm not running away."
And something about that breaks Spock. With another low groan he surges upward and comes all over Kirk's hand, fingers digging bruises into Kirk's flesh. Kirk watches him raptly and with another few strokes of his hand he's just as undone, his head falling to Spock's shoulder and letting out a heartfelt moan.
When Kirk finally manages to collect himself again, he resists the urge to purr; one of Spock's hands is in his hair doing something dangerously close to petting him, the other pressed warmly to his thigh. He grins against Spock's collarbone, pressing a kiss there before he speaks. "Down," he mutters. Well, he can bother with full sentences later.
Spock understands his meaning, the two of them shifting until they're flat on the floor, Kirk sprawled over him like a blanket. He takes a moment to enjoy the warmth of him before scooting down his body, pressing kisses down his chest and along his abdomen.
He heard Spock voice a confused, "What-?" and then he's letting out a surprised, contented little sigh, because Kirk is dragging his tongue over the mark spreading across his hips and trailing onto his cock, licking up the messy white streaks there before kissing along the edges where the green meets pale skin.
When he's finished he simply slumps there, head pillowed on Spock's stomach, closing his eyes when Spock starts petting him again. "Uhura's an idiot," he breathes happily, grinning when he hears the vibrations through Spock's chest that mean he's trying not to chuckle.
*******
The next time Spock is sent to Sick Bay (because of course there is a next time, will always be a next time, because Kirk loves getting in trouble and it's Spock's duty as his commanding officer to do damage control), he allows for one visitor only. And when Kirk arrives, he presses a kiss to the raised green mark on his arm before sitting and taking his hand.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt found here: "I wanna see a fic in which Spock has a congenital defect or deformity due to his hybrid genetics. Uhura is turned off by what ever it is and dumps Spock. Spock sulks and hates himself until Kirk comes in and saves the day with Epic Reassuring Love Makings. I want emotional depth and details about Spock's problem and how he deals with it. I want SecretlySmart!Kirk being caring but not mushy."
This took SO LONG to finish, I cannot even tell you. I really like Uhura so making her dump Spock over something this shallow was difficult, and then the prompt kind of ran away with me for a bit before I could get to the Epic Reassurance part of the prompt. I'm a little unsure of how this one turned out.
"Captain's Log," Kirk mutters into the recording device in his room. He feels like an idiot doing these, but Spock insists that Starfleet have a complete and accurate record of their missions. It doesn't stop him from feeling like a thirteen year old girl with a diary. Some days he wants to wail, "I broke a nail and no one understands me!" just to give Admiral Pike something to laugh about. He refrains, at least for today. "Crew morale is surprisingly low after finishing trade negotiations on Ipsis. Heading for Coronis to investigate reports of piracy there."
What he really wants to say is, "Suspect Lieutenant Uhura is on the rag and withholding sex from Commanding Officer, and if the Commanding Officer isn't happy, ain't nobody happy." But Spock sometimes gives his recordings a once-over to ensure he isn't sending messages like that back to Starfleet. Since he has nothing more to report, he switches off the device and leans back in his chair, resting his feet on top of his desk.
He isn't reporting much on the crew today because they're being weirder than usual. Uhura has been hunched over her console for days now as if trying to translate a particularly tricky bit of data. Which is stupid, because firstly they're in airspace where Standard is the default language, and secondly she's proficient in a ridiculous percentage of non-Standard languages and shouldn't be poring over a single translation for days in a row. She doesn't respond to anyone - she doesn't roll her eyes at Kirk's jokes or crack a smile at Chekov's warbling mispronunciations. She also, quite pointedly, doesn't look at Spock.
Spock has been acting strangely, too, and Kirk finds it a touch bizarre that he notices any alteration in the man's behavior, seeing as his default is "Stuffy and superior" and it changes very little from day to day. But there's been a subtle shift between the two of them, the friendship an older Spock hinted at starting to develop. As such, Kirk notices when Spock no longer arches an eyebrow at him when he's being unprofessional, when he stops looking up from his console to watch the rest of the crew. He's been silently efficient for days, shoulders tight and tense.
So it doesn't take any special kind of idiot to figure out there are problems between the two of them, but Kirk is at a loss to figure out what. The crew has gotten more used to the idea of the two of them together, or they've at least adjusted to it enough so they don't gawk openly when the two of them touch or, God forbid, steal kisses when they think no one is looking. They almost seem more freaked out when the touching and kissing stops.
The nightly chess matches between Spock and Kirk come to a grinding halt. So do the shared meals in the Mess Hall. And the easy chats on the bridge, in the hallways, in his quarters between chess moves. It seems Spock is limiting himself to the places he's allowing himself to be on the Enterprise: either on the bridge or locked away in his quarters, almost like he's punishing himself for having done something wrong.
Kirk eventually gets tired of eavesdropping on the rumor mill to figure out the problem ("He dumped her because he wants a Vulcan girlfriend!" "Nah, probably asked for some freaky alien sex practice and she didn't wanna do it."). For the last hour of his shift, he and Spock are the only two left on the bridge before the "night crew" takes over. Before Spock can escape to the turbolift and hide himself away again, Kirk barks out, "Mister Spock."
"Yes, Captain?"
"I'm gonna have to put one more thing on your plate before we sign off for the night."
Spock doesn't raise an eyebrow or even move a muscle, just waits for Kirk to give him orders.
"Chess match. My quarters. You've been avoiding them."
Some flicker of emotion passes behind his eyes. "Is this an order or a request?"
Kirk thinks about that. "If I call it a request, are you gonna turn it down?"
Spock hesitates, as if he's thinking about trying to lie. "Yes," he finally manages.
"Then it's an order."
Finally one of those weird angular eyebrows twitches, and Kirk grins at the sight. "I assume this will be logged in our productivity reports."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure you get time and a half or hazard pay or whatever you want." He rises from his chair as the other shift workers start trickling in. "Come on."
It's a much more silent match than he's used to. He's come to enjoy the sidetracked conversations and mild bantering about the day's work while they play, and once in awhile he can use their chats to his advantage, distracting Spock from whatever ridiculous move he wants to pull. It feels awkward and strange playing in silence.
Kirk lets it go on for ten minutes before he decides to just go for it. "So what'd you do to Uhura?"
It feels colder in the room the moment he says it, dark eyes narrowing at him. "It is a personal matter."
"No shit." He moves one of his chess pieces, trying hard to suppress the urge to shiver. It's not actually cold in here, it just feels brittle and freezing. "We're off duty. We can talk about personal matters."
"May I remind you, Captain, that you ordered me here and offered monetary recompense for the trouble."
Kirk rolls his eyes. "For God's sake, Spock, it was a joke."
"Then I have permission to return to my quarters?"
He leans back in his chair with a huff. "I won't order you to stay. I just missed the game and the company."
Spock looks ... almost ashamed of himself, the fury in his eyes dissipating. He keeps his gaze locked on the chess pieces in front of him. "I apologize. I do not believe I am fit for company at present."
He doesn't know Spock well enough to insist that he stay; he could do that with Bones and it wouldn't be a problem, but he's known Bones forever, knows his temper tantrums, knows when he needs to vent to someone and when he needs to be left alone. He's on the precipice of that kind of friendship with Spock, but they aren't there yet and he doesn't want to pry. "Some other time?" he offers.
Spock nods almost imperceptibly and leaves without another word.
It takes another week to get Spock to join him for chess games of his own free will. During that week, Uhura keeps more and more to herself on the bridge, and starts skittering off with Chekov during her free time. Spock watches her distantly and interacts with no one outside of his nightly games with Kirk.
And even though it seems the subject of Uhura is taboo, through their evening games and chats Kirk feels the friendship starting to settle, feel a little more solid under his feet. He's not used to having a support system aside from Bones, and he finds he likes the feeling of comfort and stability.
What he doesn't like is having that stability compromised or endangered. They're exploring what was supposed to be an uninhabited tropical overgrowth planet and when he hears the sickening crunch of a crude club making shrapnel of Spock's shoulder, he throws himself into the fray like it's life or death, fists, feet, and phaser fire flinging every which way. Spock grabs for the communicator and, despite the pain he must be in and the chaos of aliens trying to crush the life out of them, calmly asks Scotty to beam them back to the ship.
There's green pooling over the telepad before Spock has rematerialized fully, and Kirk is relieved to note that Scotty's already contacted Sick Bay. Bones is there seconds after they arrive, his small army of nurses and attendants collecting Spock in a gurney and whisking him off to Bones's office. Relatively unharmed himself, Kirk claps a hand on Scotty's back. "Good work, lieutenant."
"I'm learnin' my way round this ship," Scotty grins back. "If there's loads of screamin' over the communicator, odds are you'll be needin' Doctor McCoy. I'm a wee bit surprised it's the Commander this time - usually you're the one looking like a sack of hurt."
It's only slightly humiliating that Scotty's already learned how often planetside missions turn into disasters. "Yeah, great," he manages distractedly, hopping in the turbolift and heading for Medical Bay.
It's ... not at all what he expects.
Mostly it's because he only gets a glimpse of what's going on in the cot, Spock laid out and looking too pale in the face while Bones runs scanners over him. He sees a flash of too-much green before Spock sees him there, reaching out with his good hand to yank the privacy curtain around the cot.
He's having none of that, already halfway across the room when Bones grabs him by the arms. "Jim-"
"Bones, what the hell's going on in here?" Kirk starts sputtering. "It's just his shoulder, why's he bleeding all over the pl-"
"Jim-"
"-never seen so much green everywh-"
"Damn it, Jim," Bones snarls, shaking him. "He's not dying. We've stopped most of the bleeding. And he wants some goddamn privacy, so get the hell out of my Sick Bay."
He's stopped sputtering now, scowling at him. "I'm the Captain. You can't order me out of here."
"Watch me," Bones retorts, and before Kirk realizes it he's been spun 180 degrees and shoved back out the door. He debates barking out the override code for a full minute before cursing at it and making his way back to the bridge.
Kirk can't help it; he's irritated with Uhura for not being a little more interested in Spock's welfare. Sulu asks how he's doing, Chekov offers to go visit (before Bones calls up to the bridge informing them that Spock will not be taking visitors, no not even from the Captain, for God's sake Jim quit pouting like an infant), but Uhura simply listens to the conversations without so much as a peep of sympathy.
She does, however, have the decency to almost shrink into her station, head drooping and shoulders hunched.
He waits until Sulu and Chekov leave the bridge to collect their meals at the Mess Hall before he rips into her. "Y'know, whatever went down between the two of you, you could at least pretend to give a shit."
"With all due respect, Sir," she murmurs from her station, "shut up."
She's always a bit touchy with him, but he's still shocked that she's spoken to him like that. "Excuse me?"
"My former relationship with the Commander is of no concern to you-"
"Former relationship?" Kirk had known things were rocky between them, but had no idea things had gotten that serious.
"-and I'll thank you to stay out of my personal business."
"It's not personal business when you spend your shifts clinging to your station like you're translating Shakespeare into Romulan and refusing to speak to the Commanding Officer. You have to be able to communicate with him - it's in your job description, for God's sake."
She doesn't look angry at him, which is another surprise. He's gotten used to her temper over the past few months, and it isn't there now. Instead she looks almost ashamed, her eyes wincing shut for a moment before she tries to speak again. "It will be ... strained for awhile," she says quietly, fingers clenching into her console. "But it will pass."
"I sure as hell hope so," he mutters.
He rushes through his entry to the Captain's log when his shift is over, babbling something about Spock's shoulder and Bones getting overly territorial about Sick Bay before he's switching off the recorder and making his way to Spock's quarters.
He has the decency to knock and wait a full thirty seconds before giving the computer the override code.
The door opens to the sight of Spock, just a few footsteps away with a hand raised to unlock it. The corners of his mouth twitch in what Kirk has learned is a Vulcan smirk. "Most visitors would give the injured additional time to dress before they answer the door."
"Most," Kirk agrees gamely, looking him over. He isn't looking so pale anymore, clad only in his black Starfleet trousers and that strange gray bulky-knit thing he wears sometimes during his off-hours. It's supposed to be some sort of traditional Vulcan wear, but it always reminds Kirk of itchy woolen Christmas sweaters. Because he isn't wearing his usual black undershirt, the tunic bares enough of Spock's shoulder to show a heavy duty bandage with green splotches, and Kirk winces at the memory of the green blur on the cot before the curtain was drawn. "How you feeling?"
He walks toward his huge bay window, bare feet making no sound on the floor. "Doctor McCoy provided me with a variety of painkillers and antibiotics. I understand the shoulder will heal in a matter of days."
Kirk chuckles and follows him, sitting next to him on the floor. "I could've gotten that information out of Bones. I asked how you were feeling."
Spock stares at him with an intensity the question wasn't meant to inspire, tilting his head a bit. "I am ... fine." It's like the word is almost a bad taste in his mouth.
Kirk allows the companionable silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. "I hadn't realized you and Uhura broke up."
He can almost feel the tension coiling next to him. Spock fixes his eyes on the starry view, not looking at him. "I had not realized you were interested in the status of our relationship."
Kirk rolls his eyes. "You're my friend. Of course I'm interested."
Spock looks unsure of how to react to that. He hesitates before he speaks again. "Who informed you?"
"Uhura. I was giving her shit for not going to see you in Sick Bay."
"I asked Doctor McCoy to prevent visitors from coming to see me," Spock points out reasonably.
"It's the principle of the thing. She didn't even offer. She didn't talk about it when I told the crew what happened to you. She just kinda sat there."
"And from her behavior, you deduced that we were no longer together?"
"Nah, I figured things were just shaky for you. She told me about the breakup when I accused her of not caring."
Something about that sentence makes Spock's shoulders tense, which forces out a hiss at the sensation of blood clots caving under the pressure and opening again. Spock rubs his arm absently, saying nothing.
"Was there any reason behind it?" Kirk's not sure why he can't let it go. Maybe it's the weird feeling of shame he's been getting from Uhura for the past few days.
More likely it's the echo of it in Spock's eyes. He won't look out the window anymore, gaze fixed on his bare feet. "There was."
Kirk internally rolls his eyes at himself; he should know better than to phrase questions like that. He tries again. "She cheat on you?"
"No."
"You cheat on her?"
"No."
"She start kicking puppies?"
Spock's eyebrows knit together. "Why would that be relevant?"
"You can't sleep with someone who kicks puppies, Spock. You gotta have standards."
He's going for humor, but he wants to kick himself when Spock's eyes turn just a little more miserable. "What was it?" he asks, more serious now.
"Captain-"
"Jim."
Spock won't say the name, but he also doesn't call him Captain again. "I would prefer not to discuss the terms of our parting."
"Why not?"
"Discussing the terms will not reverse the decision that was made, nor will it negate the conditions that led to the decision. It is illogical to discuss a matter that has been firmly settled."
Kirk finds he can't really argue with that. He tries another tactic. "It doesn't have to be logical. Maybe you'd just feel better if you had someone to talk to."
"I speak with you on a regular basis."
He rolls his eyes at himself again. "I meant talking about Uhura."
"I have no desire to talk about Uhura."
Kirk is about to make an ill-advised response to that when another flash of green catches his eye. Spock is still rubbing his injured shoulder absently, and the motions have caused the gray knit tunic to slide down his arms an extra inch or two. There's an angry green mark blossoming on his uninjured arm, and Kirk reaches out without thinking. "What happened, Bones miss this when he was fixing you up?"
Spock explodes from his seat on the floor before Kirk can even touch him, eyes gone wide in terror. "Do not touch it," he hisses, unconsciously moving so his back is against the thick fiberglass window.
Kirk gapes at him openly. "Christ, Spock, if it's that sensitive then Bones needs to-"
"Doctor McCoy has attended to my injuries," Spock interrupts him.
"Well obviously he missed one," Kirk fires back, hand moving towards his communicator.
"There is no need to alert Doctor McCoy," Spock repeats, belatedly adjusting his tunic. "He is fully aware of my condition."
Kirk considers the phrasing of that sentence, blue eyes narrowing. "What condition?"
There's a brief moment of anger darkening Spock's face when he realizes what he's said, followed instantly by that neutral Vulcan mask Kirk despises. "It is a pre-existing condition," he says carefully. "The doctor became aware of it when he performed our routine physical examinations."
"That doesn't answer my question. What condition?"
"It is none of your concern."
The absolute steel in Spock's voice sparks a thought in his head, and in a rushing, heady moment of intuition he suddenly gets it. "This is what scared Uhura off, isn't it?"
"Captain," Spock begins to say, and some of the steel in his voice warbles.
"It's why she didn't even offer to visit you in Sick Bay, I bet."
"Captain," he tries again, his voice wavering a little more.
And Kirk realizes, with stunning clarity, why Spock found no humor in his earlier quip. You can't sleep with someone who kicks puppies, Spock. "She wouldn't sleep with you because of some bullshit condition that makes you turn green?" He's torn between wanting to scream at Spock for not being angrier about this, and wanting to march straight to Uhura's quarters and scream at her instead.
He must have nailed it, though, because Spock says nothing, his back sliding down the window until he's seated on the floor again, arms crossed protectively over his chest and staring resolutely at his knees. He looks ... God, he almost looks like a child, lost and alone, and Kirk leashes the urge to plop next to him and hug him. "Spock," he says quietly, moving closer to him, and then he isn't sure what he should be saying next.
"This is not merely a condition which causes my skin to turn green at unfortunate intervals," Spock says quietly. "It is ... more advanced than that."
Kirk can feel his temper spiking higher than before. When Spock mentioned a 'condition,' he had assumed it was something that made him ill, something that prevented him from functioning like any other Vulcan, maybe even something that made him sterile or asexual. The fact that a few green spots scared Uhura off kind of makes him want to throttle her.
"Do not judge Nyota so hastily," Spock says quietly, and his expression doesn't change when Kirk gapes at him. "You forget that I am a touch-telepath. I cannot read your thoughts but I can feel your anger."
Kirk's fingers squeeze gently around his leg. "I thought you had to have skin-to-skin contact. You can feel that even through the fabric?"
"I am what I am," Spock says by way of explanation, and his head bows down a bit further like he should be ashamed of it. Kirk leashes the urge to hug him again.
He tries to get the conversation back on track. "So why shouldn't I judge her for being scared off by something stupid? It's just skin."
Spocks seems to curl further into himself. "You do not know the extent. You have had only a glimpse of it."
Kirk scoots closer without thinking, his hand moving from Spock's leg to rest over his crossed arms, surprised at the softness of the gray tunic. He leans his head close to Spock's ear. "Show me," he whispers.
Spock remains motionless for a long time; whether he's debating the matter internally or simply refusing to move, Kirk can't tell. Finally he shifts his arms, Kirk pulling back to let him shift and wriggle his way out of the tunic, keeping his injured shoulder immobilized. He reaches to help pull the garment over Spock's head, smoothing his hair back down as Spock peels the remaining fabric off his arm and sets it aside. When he sits back to get a look at him, he can't contain the shock.
Spock's arms and chest are a mess of huge, raised, dark green splotches - less like the scars or minor discoloration Kirk was expecting and more like large, misshapen birthmarks. They wrap around his skin in a strange fashion, interlocking in a few places with equally dark reddish marks. There's no pattern to them, no sense to their construction on his skin, no possible way to make them pleasing to the eye. They're spattered along his upper arms, planted in the middle of his chest, traveling down past the waistband of his pants. He looks as though he's constructed of poorly done patchwork.
Kirk reaches out and presses a hand over the first mark he had seen, the one accidentally uncovered by the arm of the tunic. "Are they painful?" he murmurs, perhaps too late considering he's already touching one.
"No." Spock's voice is strained and thready, and he looks as though he'll bolt at any moment. He's barely keeping himself still under the scrutiny.
Kirk skims his fingers over one of the dark red patches on his pectoral. "Are they more sensitive than the rest of you?"
He squirms, and Kirk can't tell if it's discomfort or simply being unused to being touched. "I do not believe so."
Some spontaneous urge dictates that he lean forward and kiss the one on his arm. "How far down do they go?"
Spock inhales sharply, fingers fisting in Kirk's uniform. "The-" He swallows, tries to regain control over the situation. "The furthest one is behind my left knee."
Kirk processes that, thinks about where else those marks could be, and suddenly understands why Uhura shied away from him. It's shallow, to be sure, but she's been looking ashamed of herself ever since they parted, so at least she knows it's shallow. He smooths a hand down Spock's side, skimming over dark green patches littered over pale skin. "May I see?" he asks quietly. He's not sure why he's asking, he just knows it's important that someone see and accept them without question, or else Spock is going to hide himself away in his quarters until he has the opportunity to be stationed away from Uhura in a few years.
"That would require removing the remainder of my clothing," Spock stalls him, but Kirk can feel him leaning into his hands as if he's starved for touch. Hell, he probably is - if he never got to the point of having sex with Uhura, he's had to content himself with casual touching and stolen kisses for months, and if Uhura outright rejected him when she saw his body ... well, Kirk can't imagine how humiliating that must have been for him.
"Yeah, it would," he agrees easily, still stroking along his skin and waiting for his next move.
Spock finally looks up from the floor and locks eyes with Kirk. The expression is neutral but his eyes are wavering, uncertain. He stares at Kirk for a long time before he moves, pushing his pants down and off his legs and setting them in a pile with the tunic.
Kirk never really feels ... well, naked with all his clothes off. He's got his arrogance and his confidence to pull around him so he doesn't feel so bare. Spock looks like he's had his skin stripped off, and he won't look at Kirk anymore.
Kirk stops trying to meet his gaze and instead begins inspecting the rest of him. There's a particularly widespread blotch on his thigh, the green so dark towards the middle that it's nearly black. He settles a hand on it in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, pressing down just a bit so he'll stop curling up on himself and stretch his legs out.
It takes some coaxing, but Spock finally relents, and Kirk can see all of him. And he can understand, maybe, why Uhura might take off, because the marks spread all the way across his hips, down his groin, and there's a hint of one of them trailing onto the base of his cock. It's definitely weird, alien, seeing skin discolorations that shouldn't be there. But it isn't hideous, and from the vulnerable, terrified look in Spock's eyes, that's what he's come to believe.
Well, Kirk can't have that, because a vulnerable, terrified Spock just doesn't match up with the man he's come to know, trust, love.
Without missing a beat, Kirk throws a leg over him, straddling his lap and cupping his jaw in his hands, grinning at him when he looks up in surprise. "Come on. She was freaked out by a couple of birthmarks? How much of an idiot is she?"
Spock looks like he's scrambling to get out an answer that defends her honor. "It was not what she expected when we-"
"Well that's part of the mystery, isn't it?" Kirk interrupts, not sure he wants to hear the details behind what happened. "You don't know until you get naked, and after that is supposed to come the fun part." He doesn't like the twinge of sadness in Spock's face when he says it, leaning in to press a kiss over the bandaging on his shoulder. "It's a shame she's gonna miss out."
At this Spock finally lifts an eyebrow at him, a shadow of the controlled, ironic First Officer he enjoys irritating. "Are you offering to continue what Uhura was unable to complete?"
"Hell yes," he mutters, lips trailing to his neck, hands pressed into the marks covering his chest.
Spock starts panting a little bit, and it takes him too long to respond. "And if I find the mystery does not meet my expectations?" he murmurs, fingering idly at the hem of Kirk's shirt. Humor is a defense mechanism Spock has only recently picked up from his human crewmates, and he looks unsure of himself once he's spoken.
Kirk grins against his skin, nuzzling at his ear before pulling back to face him. "You better inspect the merchandise first, in that case." He grabs the shirt and the undershirt together, peeling them off and tossing them aside. The pants take a little more work, since he's straddling Spock's lap and isn't willing to move far from his spot, but he manages. He settles back into place, tracing his fingers along the marks on his upper arms, raising an eyebrow at him in unconscious mimicry. "Well?"
Spock takes him in silently for a few moments, hands aimlessly traveling over his shoulders and down his spine. Kirk forces himself not to wriggle under the intensity of his gaze, even though every muscle in his body is screaming at him to pounce. Finally Spock meets his eyes again, and his mouth is relaxed at the corners for the first time in weeks - it's the closest Kirk's ever seen to a smile coming from him, and he smiles in response. "You are adequate," he says with a touch of grandness in his voice.
"High praise," Kirk mutters, leaning in and pressing a kiss over the dark red mark spread over his chest. At Spock's sharp inhale he looks up again. "I thought you said they weren't sensitive."
"It-," Spock clears his throat and tries again. "It appears I was incorrect."
"I love it when you're wrong." And he starts tracing the edge of it with his tongue, hips pressing forward to rub up against him. There's an interested twitch up against his groin, and he grins against Spock's chest, thrilled to be getting some kind of response from him.
He can't kiss any of the marks trailing down Spock's stomach unless he moves out of his lap, and he's enjoying the lazy rhythm between them too much to do that, so he contents himself with pressing kisses along his collarbone and shoulders, dropping a kiss over the bandage even though Spock can't feel it, offering up a silent apology for being the victim of that particular fray. "Broken?" he murmurs against the fabric.
"Mmm," Spock intones vaguely, eyes closing and head dropping against the thick glass. "Fractured," he says a moment later when he realizes he hasn't actually answered the question.
"Made a hell of a noise for just being fractured." He kisses along the newly exposed skin of his throat, one hand threading into his hair as he starts leaving suckling bruises there.
"A greater amount of force is necessary to break Vulcan bone." And while the words sound like one of his usual dry lectures, he's a little too breathless for it to come out properly, hips starting to thrust up against him, hands curled around Kirk's hips.
Kirk very nearly purrs when Spock starts to pick up the pace, licking a thick stripe in his palm before reaching between them, wrapping his fingers around both their cocks and stroking them together. "Just another feature of this amazing body of yours," he rumbles in his ear, scraping his nails lightly over the raised green mark on his arm.
Spock doesn't quite moan, but there's something vibrating in his chest when Kirk scratches at him. He squirms and thrusts into Kirk's hand, trying to speak over the deluge of sensation. "I do not think-"
And before Spock can say anything derogatory, Kirk cuts him off with a kiss, moaning when he feels the protest die on his tongue. He takes his time, lazily mapping out his mouth as he strokes and twists his fingers between them. "It is," he murmurs against his lips as they break away. "Got the strength to kick my ass but you're always saving it instead." He scrapes his teeth over the hint of a dark red mark that must spread over his back, because it just peeks around the nape of his neck. Spock lets out an almost inaudible moan. "Got enough self control to keep from throttling me when I'm annoying you, but you're letting it go now." And as if in answer, Spock's hips surge up against his own, Kirk's fingers feeling shaky as he squeezes around them in response. "You can tell what I'm thinking when I touch you," he wheezes into a pointy ear, pressing a hand over the mark on his chest. "What am I thinking?"
He's never been sure of how this works with Vulcans. He knows it's different from a mind meld - knows that from when he was on Delta Vega - but something comes through in simple touch for them and he concentrates on what Spock will pick up from him: want you, amazing, gorgeous like this, so hot when you're gasping for it. There's no hint of disgust, no trace of hesitation in him, and that more than anything gets under Spock's skin, his eyes squeezing shut and a low groan escaping his mouth.
Spock's hands dig into his hips, a move of desperation and a way to get a little leverage, thrusting up into Kirk's hand and trying to clamp down on the noise he's making. Kirk squeezes and twists around them, trying to hold on until he's managed to undo Spock first, leaning in and whispering, "It's okay. I'm not running away."
And something about that breaks Spock. With another low groan he surges upward and comes all over Kirk's hand, fingers digging bruises into Kirk's flesh. Kirk watches him raptly and with another few strokes of his hand he's just as undone, his head falling to Spock's shoulder and letting out a heartfelt moan.
When Kirk finally manages to collect himself again, he resists the urge to purr; one of Spock's hands is in his hair doing something dangerously close to petting him, the other pressed warmly to his thigh. He grins against Spock's collarbone, pressing a kiss there before he speaks. "Down," he mutters. Well, he can bother with full sentences later.
Spock understands his meaning, the two of them shifting until they're flat on the floor, Kirk sprawled over him like a blanket. He takes a moment to enjoy the warmth of him before scooting down his body, pressing kisses down his chest and along his abdomen.
He heard Spock voice a confused, "What-?" and then he's letting out a surprised, contented little sigh, because Kirk is dragging his tongue over the mark spreading across his hips and trailing onto his cock, licking up the messy white streaks there before kissing along the edges where the green meets pale skin.
When he's finished he simply slumps there, head pillowed on Spock's stomach, closing his eyes when Spock starts petting him again. "Uhura's an idiot," he breathes happily, grinning when he hears the vibrations through Spock's chest that mean he's trying not to chuckle.
The next time Spock is sent to Sick Bay (because of course there is a next time, will always be a next time, because Kirk loves getting in trouble and it's Spock's duty as his commanding officer to do damage control), he allows for one visitor only. And when Kirk arrives, he presses a kiss to the raised green mark on his arm before sitting and taking his hand.