Fanfiction - Star Trek Reboot (Spock/Kirk)

[fannish_nan]

Title: A Need As Great
Author: nan
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (Star Trek: Reboot)
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me!
Notes: Written for porn_battle, the prompt was Star Trek: Reboot, McCoy/Spock, pon farr.



A thump against the wall drew McCoy’s attention and he looked up, brow furrowed. “Spock?“

The Vulcan stood, shoulders hunched over, arms tight around his abdomen. His head was bowed so McCoy couldn’t fully see his expression; just that his lips were pulled back in a grimace, teeth clenched.

“Spock, what the hell?” McCoy rushed over to him and reached out to touch his shoulder, only to draw back when Spock tensed and fell back against the wall. “Were you attacked?” Without thinking about it, he reached out to press the communication key and send an alert to the bridge. Before his fingers could touch the pad, Spock grabbed his wrist.

“We…we’re not under attack, Doctor,” Spock said, looked up at him, eyes narrowed. His grip on McCoy’s wrist tightened and then he released him abruptly, as if stung “It appears I am going through…a very difficult time right now.”

“No shit,” McCoy said, resisting the urge to rub his wrist. “What’s going on?”

Spock hesitated for a moment before straightening his spine, though his arms remained clenched around his middle. “It is my pon farr,” he said.

McCoy waited for more information and when none came, he shook his head. “Oh, pon farr. Right. I’ll just pretend I have some idea what that is.” Damn hobgoblin and his cryptic crap.

Spock snarled and the expression was so unusual that McCoy took a reflexive step back. Noticing this, Spock turned away, hunching over once more. “I apologize,” he bit out.

“…don’t worry about it,” McCoy said. “Just tell me what pon farr is and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Spock shook his head. “There…is nothing. Nothing you can do.” He took a step back. “It was a mistake for me to come here. Please tell the captain that I am currently unable to perform my duties as First Officer.” He made to leave and McCoy reached out again before remembering himself.

“Where the hell are you going?” he asked. “Spock, as the chief medical officer of this starship, I’m ordering you to tell me what’s going on. What is pon farr?”

Spock froze, before covering his hands over his face, as if in humiliation. “It is a Vulcan time for mating,” he said, toneless voice muffled from his hands. “Pon farr is a kind of madness. I will be unable to control violent impulses and…” he trailed off, as if he either didn’t know what to say or was too mortified to continue. “I should go to my quarters and meditate. I may be able to put this to an end before anyone is harmed.” He brought down his hands and stared at McCoy. “Is that a satisfactory report, Doctor?”

McCoy paused for a moment. “So…you’re horny?” he said and raised his hand to stop Spock’s further explanations. “Okay, so you know that meditation will work, right? So why did you even bother coming down here when it would have been faster to just tell Jim yourself and then lock yourself in your quarters?”

Spock opened his mouth but no sound came out for a moment. “Perhaps talking about this after it has been dealt with would be wise,” he said.

“No.” McCoy pointed at him. “You could’ve gone straight to your quarters and dealt with this on your own but instead you come here and bring me into it. I want an explanation, damn it.”

Spock shook his head. “Fine,” he bit out. “When we mind-melded on Andoria, it created a mental bond between us. Pon farr can be dealt with by mating with one I have a mental bond with and, while it was never my intent, you are the only person on this starship that I’ve bonded with. I was…drawn here.”

Damn it. McCoy knew that mind-meld back would come back and bite him in the ass. “I…okay. I’ll tell Jim that you’re on bed rest and that no one’s to bother you. Doctor’s orders.”

“Thank you,” Spock said. "But please refrain from telling anyone what I’ve told you.”

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Not even Jim?”

“Not even Jim.”

Rubbing his forehead, McCoy nodded. “Fine. I’ll just tell them you’re going through some kind of weird Vulcan thing. No specifics. Though I might have to tell Jim that you have some kind of highly contagious infection, just to keep him from pestering you.” He looked down at his files, brow furrowed. “Perhaps some kind of respiratory infection, nothing with obvious physical symptoms, just in case that idiot decides to visit anyway.”

“Anyway,” he said, looking away from the papers to find Spock closer, staring at him, a desperate, hungry, shamed expression on his face. McCoy took a deep breath and stepped back slowly. “You can go on ahead. I’ll make sure to tell Jim that you’ll be okay in a few days.” Spock didn’t reply and McCoy cleared his throat. “Spock!”

Spock started, blinking rabidly as if coming back to himself. “I…thank you,” he said, turning abruptly and nearly running out of the infirmary. McCoy watched him go and shook his head. Damn pointy-eared hobgoblins and their weird problems.



McCoy had been right - Jim was equally concerned and curious about what was happening with Spock and asked questions that McCoy had no answers for. Fortunately, he was an expert at bullshit and just used a lot of complex words until Jim looked suitably confused and just told him to fix Spock quickly.

Unfortunately, McCoy was completely out of the loop as to how his patient was doing. All he knew was that Spock had locked himself in his room - supposedly meditating - and that it was probably a good idea for McCoy not to check up on him any time soon. Remembering the intent in those dark eyes, McCoy rubbed the back of his neck, an involuntary shudder running though him. Stupid. You’re acting like a damn fool, he berated himself.

He couldn’t help it though. Two days had passed and he couldn’t stop thinking about that damn Vulcan and his unusual emotion and his desperate eyes and - Stop. Stop thinking like that. Spock was Spock and after all this was over - hopefully soon - things would go back to normal.

McCoy decided he would wait another two days before checking in. He figured that would give the meditation more than enough time to work and if it didn’t, well. Well then I’ll just go from there, damn it.



Standing outside Spock’s door, McCoy deliberated for a moment. The Vulcan said he wouldn’t be able to control his violent urges and McCoy wasn’t about to go in there unprotected; however going in armed and shooting his patient would be entirely counterproductive. So instead, he’d gathered up several hypos, fully prepared to sedate Spock if he needed to. The thought crossed his mind to bring someone along, perhaps a couple of the more physically imposing nurses. But Spock had told him not to tell anyone and McCoy thought that however bad telling was, showing was ten times worse.

Still, if the meditation didn’t work, then what? McCoy would be trapped in a room with a lust-stricken Vulcan with just a few hypos for protection. And those were helpful only if he managed to inject Spock with one. Or two. However many it took.

McCoy shook his head. Quit your dithering, man, and get in there. Either way, he’s a patient who needs your help. Straightening his shoulders, he touched his hand to the panel and the door opened with a quiet hiss. Stepping inside, the first thing he noticed were simulation candles lit throughout the room, their lights flickering in a respectable imitation of the real thing. Spock sat in the middle of the room, legs crossed, back to the door. He was motionless - McCoy could just barely see his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed.

Taking another step in, McCoy jumped when the door shifted close behind him. Get a hold of yourself. You’re the chief medical officer, for God’s sake. Clearing his throat and fingering one of the hyposprays, McCoy cleared his throat. “Spock? I’ve come to check on you.” Which was obvious; why the hell else would he be here? Shaking himself off, McCoy took another step forward and froze when he saw those shoulder tense before shifting. Spock turned so he was looking over his shoulder. His face was stressed, as if fighting off some terrible emotion, and his eyes were absolutely livid.

“Doctor,” he said after a moment of staring, glancing at the floor. Hopelessness flickered over his features, almost too fast for McCoy to notice. “I…”

“The meditation’s not working.” McCoy thought fast, mind working at a frenetic pace. “Okay, well…damn it. Who else have you melded with? What about Uhura, you two were together for a whi-”

“I’ve already told you, I did not mind-meld with her,” Spock interrupted, words harsh, eyes already going back to hard and intensive as he stared up at McCoy, one hand reaching out towards him, fingers curling into a fist against the floor.

“Well, why the hell not?!” McCoy yelled and immediately regretted it as Spock turned all the way around, responding to the raised voice, the perceived aggression in kind, going up to his knees as if getting ready to attack. “Spock, stop,” McCoy said, normally rough voice turned soft. “Get a grip on yourself, man. Just calm down.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Spock sat back on his heels and bowed his head, breathing deeply. “I can not help this,” he said.

“I know.” McCoy rubbed his forehead, feeling sorry for him. “What else can we do? Is there no one else-”

“Vulcan is gone. There is no one else.” The words were toneless.

McCoy ran a hand over his face, hand halting over his mouth as he thought it over. “So what happens if you don’t mate with anyone?” he asked. “This’ll just fizzle out, right? A few more days of insanity and then you’re back to normal?” Spock didn’t answer, instead just stared up at McCoy, eyes dark.

Goddamn it. Hardly realizing what he was saying, McCoy closed his eyes. “What…what all goes with mating?” he asked. “Just sex, right? No…marriage or anything like that?” He opened his eyes and nearly fled at the terrible need that shone in Spock’s eyes.

“Typically,” he said, voice raspy, “Vulcan’s mate with the one they plan to marry. However, as I am half-human, that is not a necessity.”

“…shit. Shit, fine,” McCoy bite out. “I’ll do it.” The words hardly left his mouth before Spock was on him, one hand at the back of his head and the other cupping his jaw, pushing him against the wall. His mouth was hot against McCoy’s, tongue pressing against the seam of his lips, completely unrelenting. McCoy opened his mouth and Spock groaned against his lips, thrusting inside and exploring his mouth completely. His hand at the base of McCoy’s skull held him in place while the one holding his jaw turned him this way and that, controlling the kiss utterly.

McCoy was frozen for a moment, head spinning, before coming back to himself. Goddamn it, you’re not some blushing virgin! Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Spock’s shoulders and got a growl in response.

Moving away from his mouth, Spock laved wet, sucking kisses against his chin and neck, arms lowering and curling around his waist, pulling him away from the wall and against his own body. His fingers tightened and loosened against the small of McCoy’s back, fingers digging in while he feasted on his mouth.

The door opened with a hiss and McCoy attempted to push Spock away as Jim walked in. Seeing the position they were in, his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped.

“Bones…Spock?!” He blinked. “What the hell is going on?!”

Feeling a growl rumble deep in Spock’s chest, McCoy shook his head. “Jim, not now,” he said, lips strangely numb. “I’ll explain everything later but for now, get the hell out!”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Hey, this isn’t fair! How come you never treated any of my illnesses like this? All I get are those damned hyposprays!”

At that, Spock pulled away from McCoy and stood in front of him, fingers curled up into fists. McCoy couldn’t see his face but from Jim’s expression, it wasn’t pretty.

“Jim, you idiot! I’m fine, just get out of here!”

Deciding that since he clearly wasn’t wanted, Jim stepped backwards until he was stood just outside the door. “Fine,” he said, just before the door slide closed. “But you’re definitely telling me everything that happens. With details!”

McCoy sighed, feeling his face flush. “I should have know that little ass would follow me here,” he said, but stopped talking when Spock turned around. His eyes blazed and he put his hands on McCoy’s shoulders, turning and pushing him backwards until he collided with the bed. Falling backwards on it, McCoy sat up against the pillows, fingers nervously clenching on the white sheets.

“Spock-” he began but was cutoff when Spock joined him on the bed, mouth finding his and quickly becoming reacquainted, amazingly hot hands stroking across his collarbone and down his chest. Despite himself, McCoy moaned, hands going up and petting the short hair at the base of his neck, fingers playing across the smooth skin of his neck.

Sitting up, Spock nearly ripped his shirt off over his head, throwing it across the room before doing the same to McCoy’s. Kneeling down, he licked a trail down the middle of his chest to his belly button, where he laved kisses. McCoy cursed, hands reflexively going up and stroking Spock’s head, fingers curling over the pointed tip of his ears.

Spock purred, and continued lower until he got to the waistline of his pants. Fingers digging under the edge, he ripped them down over McCoy’s hips, clearly not worried about whether or not they were ruined.

Neither did McCoy. He stared down at Spock, eyes painfully wide, and watched as Spock wrapped one hand around his cock - it was hard, when the hell did that happen - and licked the tip, before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking, cheeks hollowing.

“Shit,” McCoy said, eyes closing as he tilted his head back, fingers just barely stroking Spock’s head. After a moment, the sucking came to a stop. What the hell? Spock met his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes as he hovered over McCoy’s cock.

“You will watch,” he said, before taking McCoy’s cock in deep. McCoy hissed - he could feel Spock gag on it, struggle to take it all in - but he didn’t look away and he let go of Spock’s head, instead fisting the sheets in a white knuckle grip.

Spock looked up at him, eyes watering, and McCoy was lost. He’d been mostly celibate - save for his hand - ever since he’d joined Starfleet and the sudden stimulus proved too much. He came with a groan, hips humping upward, back arching. Spock swallowed around his cock before moving up, pressing a kiss against McCoy’s lips. Not thinking about what that mouth had just been doing, he kissed back drowsily.

Spock pulled back and McCoy realized that he was stroking his own cock, fist touching his stomach on every pull. Hesitating for just a moment, McCoy wrapped his fingers around Spock’s fingers and helped pull on his cock until he groaned, come spattering on McCoy’s stomach and chest.

For a moment they were still, save for their frantic breathing. Shifting up, Spock rubbed his semen against McCoy’s chest, as if trying to rub it right into his skin. While he wasn’t smiling, there was a smug glint to his eyes.

Damn green-blooded bastard. McCoy glared up at him, studiously not thinking about what they’d done and how much he’d enjoyed it. “Are we through?” he asked. Spock refocused his gaze and McCoy saw the same intensity, the same hunger in his eyes. “Guess not,” he muttered as Spock settled against the pillows, tugging him close.

McCoy knew he wouldn’t get off this easy - pun definitely not intended - but as he lay in the circle of Spock arms, body lax from orgasm, he realized he didn’t mind as much as he did earlier.

Goddamn pointy-eared hobgoblin.