Star Trek: His Favorite Color
Jun. 29th, 2009 01:38 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corpus_invictusTitle: His Favorite Color
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt found here: "Kirk's favorite color is green because it's the color Spock turns when he flushes. And since it's such a rare sight to behold he spends all his free time trying to make sure he'll get to see it again and again and again..."
Some of these are all about the flushing. Some of these, not so much. The chronology is a bit scattered, but I was kind of hoping it could be blamed on Kirk's random thought processes rather than a disjointed author. ;) This will probably be my last bit of writing before I go on vacation for a week.
Eyes
Kirk's favorite color is green. Maybe it's because the first girl he slept with had green eyes. Maybe it's because the lush vegetation of San Francisco was such a relief after so many dusty Iowan crop fields. Maybe it's one of the more ridiculous shirts he finds in his closet when he's finally Captain: damn thing looks more like a girl's kimono top than something any self-respecting Captain might wear, but the color's nice despite the weirdness.
But then Bones tells him the thing about chocolate, and Spock's eyes are all bloodshot the next morning when he grills Kirk for any information regarding his drunken behavior ("No, Spock, no one saw you groping me except for Bones, and he can't pass that kind of gossip around until he stops gagging all the time."). But a Vulcan with bloodshot eyes is decidedly different from a human with the same affliction, and he finds himself mesmerized by the little threads of green encroaching on the white.
"You've got green eyes," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him before Spock drags them both onto the bridge.
"They are brown." Spock ducks away from the gesture, affronted.
"Well, they're both today." That time the kiss lands properly.
Ears
The hand thing is almost as much fun as the chocolate thing - the only aspect keeping it from the top of the list is that doing the hand thing doesn't cause Spock to go all sappy and affectionate, and the chocolate thing does.
But the hand thing definitely has its merits. It's subtle, which Kirk can be surprisingly good at. Touching his index and middle fingers to Spock's is apparently the Vulcan equivalent of a kiss, and it's something Kirk can do surreptitiously without the whole crew knowing he's making out with his First Officer.
Touching more than just those two fingers is the Vulcan equivalent of foreplay, and Kirk starts using that to his advantage when the subtlety gets boring. He leans over Spock's shoulder to get a better look at the readings on the planet of the day. He rattles off some sort of vague praise for his work, casually laying a hand over Spock's on the console and squeezing.
He watches in utter fascination as a faint green flush starts working over the shell of his ear all the way up to the point. Spock's face is otherwise colorless and immobile, but he can see the blood rushing to his ears at the too-intimate gesture.
He refrains from nibbling at the dark green points. For now, at least.
Cheeks
The Chair is a long-held fantasy of Kirk's, so much so that it deserves capitalization in his mind. It is, after all, The Chair. It's where all the big decisions are made. It's where he took over from a man with decades of experience who personally requested Kirk as his replacement. It's where he can boss around the hundreds of folks who work for him. It's where aliens threaten him and diplomats kiss his ass.
It's where he's got his First Officer sprawled over his lap after the rest of the crew have signed off their shifts. He hasn't even bothered undressing either of them yet, both of them fully clothed as they writhe and rub up against each other. Spock's hands are everywhere like he can't focus on where he wants them to go, one of them wedged under Kirk's shirt between his back and the chair, and the other fluttering over him erratically. Kirk's got a hand in that ridiculous haircut and another on Spock's ass, dragging him in closer so he can whisper filthy things in one of those pointy, green-flushed ears.
It comes out without much thought to organization, spouting obscenities and endearments in equal quantities: "Oh fuck, Spock, want you to ride me. Been hard for you all day, sweetheart, have you been hard for me? So gorgeous like this, love it when you ride my cock, like you were made for it with your legs spread out and whimpering for it, fucking begging for it, god..."
That faint green color starts spreading from the pointed ears, staining his face in a rather unattractive shade of sage, his cheeks bearing the brunt of saturation while he gasps at the words.
Kirk can't decide which is hotter: the searing heat of finally thrusting up into him, or the way those cheeks flush darker and darker as Kirk keeps whispering to him.
Nipples
The first time he ever saw Spock shirtless, it was because he was laid out in a biobed with Bones hovering over him, trying to find a parasitic worm that had burrowed into his stomach and was making an exploratory journey into his heart. Somewhere in between Spock's agonized hissing and fingers clenching dents into the bedframe, Kirk brain suddenly focused on the fact that Spock's nipples were a strange olive color.
The first time he sees Spock shirtless for entirely different reasons, it becomes something of an obsession. He traces light fingers around them, brushes his thumbs over them until they peak, leans his head down to press a trail of kisses between them and then devoting a solid five minutes to licking them until he can pin down the flavor. They've got some of that coppery sweetness that Spock's mouth has, with something musky and heady under it. He's still trying to puzzle out the subtleties when there's a hand in his hair, tugging at him gently. "Mmm?" he murmurs.
"I understand this is generally an erogenous zone for humans?" Spock asks, and his voice is maddeningly unaffected.
"Uh-huh," is Kirk's articulate, intelligent response. He kicks his brain into working gear again, considering what Spock is saying - and what he isn't saying. "Not so much for you, huh?"
Spock shakes his head, fingers sifting through Kirk's hair leisurely.
"'s a damn shame," he murmurs, tilting his face to press a kiss in his palm, and he can't quite resist tweaking one of Spock's nipples at the same time. "They're gorgeous."
The words, more than the sensations, produce a little rumble of pleasure.
And Last, But Certainly Not Least...
At the beginning of their tenuous relationship, there was a lot of kissing, a lot of shirts tossed to the floor, a lot of semi-clothed frottage and coming in their pants. It takes awhile to get Spock comfortable enough to be fully nude, and Kirk comes dangerously close to ruining things when he finally does.
"It's green!"
He's still not sure how in the hell he managed to keep Spock from storming out after that particular gaffe. He remembers babbling something about surprising Vulcan anatomy and sex with other species and thank god, thank god he has enough brain cells functioning that he refrains from mentioning that he once said the same thing to Gaila once upon a time, because now is really not the time to be mentioning some other alien's genitalia when he's insulted this one's so badly. Somewhere in the desperate, fumbling, deeply apologetic gibbering he manages to get Spock to understand that it isn't an insult, isn't disgust, isn't anything of the sort.
In time he convinces Spock just how much he loves that shade of green. He takes an unholy kind of joy in watching the color shift from a flaccid, almost mossy color to a deep, throbbing emerald as he touches, rubs, nuzzles, licks him to full hardness. He loves the darker shade of forest green in the vein on the underside, tracing his tongue over it until it turns nearly black and throbs in his mouth. It's almost reverential, the way he licks his lips and takes him in his mouth, flicking his tongue teasingly over the head and seeing in his peripheral vision the faint, pastel green blossoming over Spock's body as he arches and moans softly. He pulls his mouth off, traces his lips teasingly over the ridges and veins, grinning at the twitch and the whimper that earns him. Kirk's fingers dig mottled green bruises into his hips in an effort to keep him from thrusting too hard when he sucks him back down with an eager, obscene slurping sound, muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to keep the much-stronger Vulcan from choking him. He takes his time, bringing Spock to the edge and then easing off of him, lapping at the precome beading at the head, kissing the skin at the base, blowing a hot breath over the saliva-slick skin. It's his own brand of worship, this slow build to an explosive end, and when he finally sucks him down and swallows around him, his name sounds like a prayer on Spock's lips, sweet and devout and fervent.
Kirk swallows and tries to remember how to breathe, pressing wet sloppy kisses over his skin as he pulls himself to lie next to him, one arm tossed possessively over his waist, watching Spock recover from the haze. He takes inventory of him them: the faint yellowish-green tinge over most of his skin, the slowly shifting color of his spent cock, the dark olive of his nipples, the high flush in his cheeks and along his ears. He leans in for a kiss even though his lips feel tingly and bruised, his own thoughts scattered in a hundred different directions, but there's one he keeps coming back to.
Green really is his favorite color.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt found here: "Kirk's favorite color is green because it's the color Spock turns when he flushes. And since it's such a rare sight to behold he spends all his free time trying to make sure he'll get to see it again and again and again..."
Some of these are all about the flushing. Some of these, not so much. The chronology is a bit scattered, but I was kind of hoping it could be blamed on Kirk's random thought processes rather than a disjointed author. ;) This will probably be my last bit of writing before I go on vacation for a week.
Eyes
Kirk's favorite color is green. Maybe it's because the first girl he slept with had green eyes. Maybe it's because the lush vegetation of San Francisco was such a relief after so many dusty Iowan crop fields. Maybe it's one of the more ridiculous shirts he finds in his closet when he's finally Captain: damn thing looks more like a girl's kimono top than something any self-respecting Captain might wear, but the color's nice despite the weirdness.
But then Bones tells him the thing about chocolate, and Spock's eyes are all bloodshot the next morning when he grills Kirk for any information regarding his drunken behavior ("No, Spock, no one saw you groping me except for Bones, and he can't pass that kind of gossip around until he stops gagging all the time."). But a Vulcan with bloodshot eyes is decidedly different from a human with the same affliction, and he finds himself mesmerized by the little threads of green encroaching on the white.
"You've got green eyes," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him before Spock drags them both onto the bridge.
"They are brown." Spock ducks away from the gesture, affronted.
"Well, they're both today." That time the kiss lands properly.
Ears
The hand thing is almost as much fun as the chocolate thing - the only aspect keeping it from the top of the list is that doing the hand thing doesn't cause Spock to go all sappy and affectionate, and the chocolate thing does.
But the hand thing definitely has its merits. It's subtle, which Kirk can be surprisingly good at. Touching his index and middle fingers to Spock's is apparently the Vulcan equivalent of a kiss, and it's something Kirk can do surreptitiously without the whole crew knowing he's making out with his First Officer.
Touching more than just those two fingers is the Vulcan equivalent of foreplay, and Kirk starts using that to his advantage when the subtlety gets boring. He leans over Spock's shoulder to get a better look at the readings on the planet of the day. He rattles off some sort of vague praise for his work, casually laying a hand over Spock's on the console and squeezing.
He watches in utter fascination as a faint green flush starts working over the shell of his ear all the way up to the point. Spock's face is otherwise colorless and immobile, but he can see the blood rushing to his ears at the too-intimate gesture.
He refrains from nibbling at the dark green points. For now, at least.
Cheeks
The Chair is a long-held fantasy of Kirk's, so much so that it deserves capitalization in his mind. It is, after all, The Chair. It's where all the big decisions are made. It's where he took over from a man with decades of experience who personally requested Kirk as his replacement. It's where he can boss around the hundreds of folks who work for him. It's where aliens threaten him and diplomats kiss his ass.
It's where he's got his First Officer sprawled over his lap after the rest of the crew have signed off their shifts. He hasn't even bothered undressing either of them yet, both of them fully clothed as they writhe and rub up against each other. Spock's hands are everywhere like he can't focus on where he wants them to go, one of them wedged under Kirk's shirt between his back and the chair, and the other fluttering over him erratically. Kirk's got a hand in that ridiculous haircut and another on Spock's ass, dragging him in closer so he can whisper filthy things in one of those pointy, green-flushed ears.
It comes out without much thought to organization, spouting obscenities and endearments in equal quantities: "Oh fuck, Spock, want you to ride me. Been hard for you all day, sweetheart, have you been hard for me? So gorgeous like this, love it when you ride my cock, like you were made for it with your legs spread out and whimpering for it, fucking begging for it, god..."
That faint green color starts spreading from the pointed ears, staining his face in a rather unattractive shade of sage, his cheeks bearing the brunt of saturation while he gasps at the words.
Kirk can't decide which is hotter: the searing heat of finally thrusting up into him, or the way those cheeks flush darker and darker as Kirk keeps whispering to him.
Nipples
The first time he ever saw Spock shirtless, it was because he was laid out in a biobed with Bones hovering over him, trying to find a parasitic worm that had burrowed into his stomach and was making an exploratory journey into his heart. Somewhere in between Spock's agonized hissing and fingers clenching dents into the bedframe, Kirk brain suddenly focused on the fact that Spock's nipples were a strange olive color.
The first time he sees Spock shirtless for entirely different reasons, it becomes something of an obsession. He traces light fingers around them, brushes his thumbs over them until they peak, leans his head down to press a trail of kisses between them and then devoting a solid five minutes to licking them until he can pin down the flavor. They've got some of that coppery sweetness that Spock's mouth has, with something musky and heady under it. He's still trying to puzzle out the subtleties when there's a hand in his hair, tugging at him gently. "Mmm?" he murmurs.
"I understand this is generally an erogenous zone for humans?" Spock asks, and his voice is maddeningly unaffected.
"Uh-huh," is Kirk's articulate, intelligent response. He kicks his brain into working gear again, considering what Spock is saying - and what he isn't saying. "Not so much for you, huh?"
Spock shakes his head, fingers sifting through Kirk's hair leisurely.
"'s a damn shame," he murmurs, tilting his face to press a kiss in his palm, and he can't quite resist tweaking one of Spock's nipples at the same time. "They're gorgeous."
The words, more than the sensations, produce a little rumble of pleasure.
And Last, But Certainly Not Least...
At the beginning of their tenuous relationship, there was a lot of kissing, a lot of shirts tossed to the floor, a lot of semi-clothed frottage and coming in their pants. It takes awhile to get Spock comfortable enough to be fully nude, and Kirk comes dangerously close to ruining things when he finally does.
"It's green!"
He's still not sure how in the hell he managed to keep Spock from storming out after that particular gaffe. He remembers babbling something about surprising Vulcan anatomy and sex with other species and thank god, thank god he has enough brain cells functioning that he refrains from mentioning that he once said the same thing to Gaila once upon a time, because now is really not the time to be mentioning some other alien's genitalia when he's insulted this one's so badly. Somewhere in the desperate, fumbling, deeply apologetic gibbering he manages to get Spock to understand that it isn't an insult, isn't disgust, isn't anything of the sort.
In time he convinces Spock just how much he loves that shade of green. He takes an unholy kind of joy in watching the color shift from a flaccid, almost mossy color to a deep, throbbing emerald as he touches, rubs, nuzzles, licks him to full hardness. He loves the darker shade of forest green in the vein on the underside, tracing his tongue over it until it turns nearly black and throbs in his mouth. It's almost reverential, the way he licks his lips and takes him in his mouth, flicking his tongue teasingly over the head and seeing in his peripheral vision the faint, pastel green blossoming over Spock's body as he arches and moans softly. He pulls his mouth off, traces his lips teasingly over the ridges and veins, grinning at the twitch and the whimper that earns him. Kirk's fingers dig mottled green bruises into his hips in an effort to keep him from thrusting too hard when he sucks him back down with an eager, obscene slurping sound, muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to keep the much-stronger Vulcan from choking him. He takes his time, bringing Spock to the edge and then easing off of him, lapping at the precome beading at the head, kissing the skin at the base, blowing a hot breath over the saliva-slick skin. It's his own brand of worship, this slow build to an explosive end, and when he finally sucks him down and swallows around him, his name sounds like a prayer on Spock's lips, sweet and devout and fervent.
Kirk swallows and tries to remember how to breathe, pressing wet sloppy kisses over his skin as he pulls himself to lie next to him, one arm tossed possessively over his waist, watching Spock recover from the haze. He takes inventory of him them: the faint yellowish-green tinge over most of his skin, the slowly shifting color of his spent cock, the dark olive of his nipples, the high flush in his cheeks and along his ears. He leans in for a kiss even though his lips feel tingly and bruised, his own thoughts scattered in a hundred different directions, but there's one he keeps coming back to.
Green really is his favorite color.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-06 02:28 am (UTC)I find your characterizations of Kirk, Spock and McCoy to be spot-on and your porn is the hottest. I am so glad that the new movie proved so stimulating for you. I have never found hand porn to be at all interesting to me until I read it in your stories.
I am going to go sit in the corner over there and wait quietly for more stories. I will make you virtual cookies while I am waiting. ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-06 07:35 am (UTC)I'm back from vacation now and ready to tear back into the kink meme with new stuff.