Chapter Text
Jim knew it was pointless to struggle against the Vulcans who were all but dragging him toward a tent at the center of their camp. At least, he thought they were Vulcans. Their ears and eyebrows were the same, but most wore their hair long, and many were covered in intricate tattoos.
When they finally shoved him inside the tent, Jim breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the man sitting inside. “Spock!”
Spock glanced up at him from where he was writing at a small desk, brow furrowing in open confusion. And, well, it was Spock, but not Spock as Jim was used to. A thin circle of silver sat upon his hair, which he wore long and loose. He wore fitted leather clothing that revealed far more defined muscles than Jim ever remembered seeing on his first officer. But he was undeniably Spock.
Just what the hell is going on?
“How is it you know my name, human?” Spock asked.
Jim swallowed around the lump in his throat. It hurt that Spock didn’t recognize him, even if this very clearly wasn’t his Spock. An alternate reality? It wasn’t all that crazy to consider–especially since this wasn’t even the first alternate version of Spock he’d met.
“By reputation,” Jim said quickly.
“If you knew my reputation, you wouldn’t sound so pleased to see me. Release him, and leave us,” he added to the guards.
Jim wanted to believe that once they were alone, Spock would reveal that this was all a charade and he had a plan to get them home, but something about the way Spock looked at him told him that wasn’t the case.
Spock stood, coming around the desk and leaning against it casually. “What is your name?”
“Jim Kirk.”
There was no recognition in Spock’s eyes, but there was open curiosity there. “And what is it you are doing here, Jim Kirk?”
“Honestly? I’m lost.”
Spock chuckled. Jim blinked in confusion, but before he could process that Spock apparently laughed in this universe, the Vulcan stalked closer. “I do not know you, and yet." He walked behind Jim, who stood very still and tried his damndest not to be intimidated. There was a long intake of breath. “You smell like you belong to me.”
Jim blinked. There was no way in hell he’d heard that right. “W-what?”
One of Spock’s arms wrapped around Jim’s waist, pulling him flush against a wall of Vulcan muscles. A hot Vulcan mouth kissed the juncture of his neck and shoulder. There was no misinterpreting that. What… the… fuck… Okay, so maybe he had fantasized about his first officer more than was healthy or appropriate, but he still couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. And it was happening, Spock’s other hand sliding under his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Jim hissed, hating that he sounded both scandalized and irresolute.
“Your body… your mind... They call to me,” Spock murmured against his skin, and then Jim heard a rip as Spock tore his shirt in two.
This was going entirely too far, too fast, and while Jim’s body was very much on board with what Spock was doing, this wasn’t his Spock, and he had to find out how the hell to get home. He tried to pull away, but Spock pulled him right back. “Spock, stop it. We can’t.” Fuck, that last word came out more like a moan than a protest as one of Spock’s hands slid lower to palm him through his pants.
“I fail to see why not,” Spock whispered against his skin, sounding decidedly amused.
“You don’t know me,” Jim tried, attempting to worm his way out of Spock’s grasp.
“Yet I know that you are mine,” Spock replied, and then without warning lifted Jim off his feet and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The move knocked the breath out of him, and he was too stunned to protest as Spock carried him to the back of the tent, where he lifted a flap and walked into another tented area.
Moments later, Jim found himself thrown down on a bed. His mouth went dry. If he didn’t find some way to stop this—and God, he really did not want to stop this, but it was so wrong.
Before he could think, he was covered in a strong Vulcan body, and Spock was kissing him, deep and hungry, and he couldn’t help but kiss back. Spock kissed him like he was out of air and Jim was oxygen. When the Vulcan’s hips rolled against his, Jim bucked up involuntarily, feeling a hardness in Spock’s pants that matched his own.
As the kiss finally broke, and Spock nipped at his jaw, his ear, his throat, Jim managed to gasp out, “Isn’t this.. kinda fast?”
“No,” Spock replied, and bestowed on him another toe-curling kiss. And then his fingers fit against Jim’s face, and Jim was lost.
Time was a messy smear as they lost their clothing, and then Spock was working slick fingers inside him. Jim arched into his touch, gasping and begging and wanting him so fucking badly. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was begging in his mind or out loud, but Spock must have heard him, because he lifted Jim's hips and pushed slowly inside.
It had been a while, but there was no pain, only the feeling of being full. Spock began to move, hitting the place inside him that made Jim cry out. It felt incredible, having Spock inside him like this, their pleasure building together across the meld until he was teetering on the edge.
Spock batted away his hand when he tried to touch himself. He whined in protest, but could hear Spock’s demand in his mind: You will come like this.
He did, exploding between them, clenching hard around Spock. The Vulcan moaned into his neck and tumbled over after him, their pleasure ricocheting across the meld. For a long moment, he drifted in the aftershocks, barely aware of his physical body.
“Wow,” he murmured, when he could finally think somewhat straight again.
“Indeed,” Spock replied, radiating smugness. The Vulcan was cleaning them with a damp cloth.
Jim resisted the urge to smack him on the shoulder, unsure if this version of Spock would tolerate it.
“That was… amazing, but I’d really better get going. I have to get home.” He tried to sit up, but Spock’s strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him close. “Uh..”
“Was I not clear, Jim? You are mine. You will stay here.”
That definitely presented a problem. “Spock, I can't stay here."
"We will discuss this further in the morning. It is now time to sleep.”
And with that, Spock passed out, draped across him. Jim gaped at him for a moment and then tried to shift out from under him, but it was like trying to move a stone statue. He huffed in frustration.
But Spock felt so good and warm, and it was unlikely he would get far tonight–he decided to figure things out in the morning, and let his eyes drift closed.