Take You Out

PAIRING: Mirror!James T. Kirk/Mirror!Spock
 
Category: Mirrorfic reboot style, breath play
 
RATING: R
 
SUMMARY: It is only logical to show off what you have and others can never own.
 
NOTES: Done for the kink bingo prompt no. 15: collars.

His fellow Vulcans would scoff if they could see him now. Spock knows this, but it is illogical to care about such petty attitudes from people whose opinions are of no importance to him.

He has come far in life, though it is of little importance as well. What he does, he does for the greater good, because logic dictates it. Even if his Captain's ideas are often insane, they tend to work and thus, logically, he follows them. Kirk also has a gift for acting unpredictably and thus is an effective ally.

And an ally he is. They are more even these days than the Captain will ever admit to in public. Since Kirk bound them together when Spock went into pon farr, thinking that he could force his Vulcan second into submission, Spock has made sure he's seen the light, as humans' would say.

What they have now, and Spock would never have thought it could be this much, is an almost symbiotic relationship. He lends Kirk his strength and logic and Kirk is his. Pure and simple. He watches as Kirk mingles in the seedy bar, watches as other people orbit him, brush against him, offer him pleasures of the flesh.

He watches while Kirk, almost gleefully, tugs at the collar he's wearing. At first Spock found Kirk's suggestion of wearing a collar with Spock's mark on it illogical, but Kirk has spent the entire evening proving him wrong.

Spock's desire to mark the Captain may have played a larger part in reaching this decision than he'd thought. And Kirk had known that. The hidden bite marks from their couplings were normally enough for Spock. Or so he'd thought.

Kirk is writhing with abandon among the other patrons on the dance floor of the bar, grinding against them, showing them what they can never have, what is already Spock's. While Spock sips his glass of water, he catches Kirk's darkened gaze, the wry twist of his lips as he stares across the crowded room.

Spock looks down at the glass in his hand. The water is cold enough to create condensation on the outside of the glass, chill to his touch. He doesn't have to look up; he knows the moment Kirk swaggers across the floor in front of the table he is seated at.

"I'm not sure who they envy more," Kirk rasps in his ear, his scent assaulting Spock's nose, making him take a deep breath, savoring it. Kirk steps around his chair and runs his hands over Spock's shoulders, down over his chest. "You, for collaring me or me, for being on your metaphorical leash."

Jim slides around him again and Spock stays where he is. They are not meeting with their contact for another twenty-three minutes and Jim does enjoy having his fun, so it is only logical that Spock indulge him. A moment later, Jim straddles his lap and Spock lets his arms fall to his sides.

There is no mistaking the hardness against Spock's stomach, and he gracefully relinquishes some of his own control, allowing his own cock to grow hard under Jim's buttocks. The lewd grin on Jim's face is more than enough to tell him his Captain is very happy at the moment.

And a happy Jim Kirk is a less homicidal Jim Kirk, far more manageable too, as Spock has long since learned.

Spock reaches up and slides his hand behind Jim's neck, holding his gaze as he pulls at the collar, drawing the leather even tighter against Jim's throat. He breaks eye contact and stares at the exposed neck, watches how Jim tries to swallow against the confines of the leather.

"We have twenty minutes to kill," Jim rasps, barely audible over the noise of the bar.

"Twenty one point three, to be exact," Spock replies quietly. He can almost feel the eyes of the people around them and for that he tightens his grip just enough to cut off Jim's ability to breathe.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Jim's body shakes as he tries to rut against Spock's abdomen. Spock puts his free hand on Jim's hip and holds him still.

Thirty seconds and Spock lessens his grip, listening to the sound of air whooshing back in and out of Jim's lungs.

"I guess we'll have to think of something to pass the time, then," Jim growls, his eyes shining with lust and their bond vibrating with desire.

"I am sure we can think of something, if we try," Spock replies, toying with the leather collar.

The End