airbrushing fantasy art on a life that's really kind of dull

Fic: Life of Syvek, Pt. 3

2011-04-18T21:06:40Z

Title: Life of Syvek, Pt. 3
Author: brown-polyester
Universe/Series: Star Trek: TOS
Rating: NC-17 at times
Relationship status: Established
Word count: 10,063 total; 2,633 this part
Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance, Drama
Tropes: Kidfic, Family
Warnings: None
Additional Pairings: A little Syvek/OFC, but the kid's 2.5-ish, so... yeah...
Author's Notes: Part 3 has some (probably terrible) Vulcan words in it, so if you're a Vulcan scholar, let me know if it sucks. If you're not a Vulcan scholar, it's a good thing I put a translation in parentheses beside the Vulcan words!
Summary: “All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training and The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk.

Part 1

Part 2

Two years, ten months, four days old

The royal family of Chertan Prime was aboard the Enterprise for less than an hour before Syvek and the youngest daughter, Vatha, were inseparable. Like most Chertanians, Vatha and her family were humanoids with varying shades of turquoise skin marbled on their bodies. Hair color ranged widely from dark reds to bright greens. Fully grown, Chertanians reached an average height of 1.33 meters for men or 1.49 meters for women. Vatha was just days older than Syvek, but her species’ reduced size and his small stature left them at an equal height.

Spock and Kirk had requested that Syvek be present when the senior officers and a security detail welcomed the family aboard the ship. Syvek had complained about the formal clothes that he was required to wear nearly as much as Doctor McCoy had whined about his dress uniform, but as soon as the family materialized on the transporter pad, his protests had fallen silent.

When introductions were made, Kirk noticed the awestruck expression on Syvek’s tiny face as he stepped forward to greet the king and queen. He also noticed that while Syvek’s bow was directed to the two monarchs, his gaze was firmly set on the youngest member of their family. As the family filed out of the transporter room to follow Spock to their guest quarters, Kirk hung back with Syvek.

“You did very well, Syvek,” Kirk said, smoothing the child’s hair. “Your father and I are proud of you.”

Syvek didn’t respond, for his unfocussed eyes were directed at the door that had recently closed behind the little Chertanian girl. His jaw was slack with amazement, and the tips of his ears were green.

“Should we join them?” Kirk couldn’t suppress a smile at Syvek’s eager nod. When the two Kirks moved into the hall, Syvek took off at a run in the direction of the royal party. Kirk walked quickly behind to catch up.

Rounding a corner, he saw that Syvek had reached the Chertanian family, and apparently Vatha was not impressed by his childish jog. The two kids had stopped in the middle of the corridor, unnoticed by the rest of the party, which travelled on. Kirk crept closer to eavesdrop on Syvek’s conversation.

“Why were you chasing me?” the young girl asked curiously.

“I…” Syvek faltered. “Um… I wanted… um… to talk to you,” he finished in a rush.

“Oh? About what?”

Syvek shyly looked at the ground before raising his eyes to meet hers. “Will you be my fwiend?” he asked in a reverent whisper. Kirk found himself holding his breath as he waited to hear the answer to his son’s vulnerable question.

But she didn’t answer. She merely smiled and held out her hand. Syvek grinned back and enthusiastically grabbed her hand. Then they turned and continued down the hallway to catch up with her family, Kirk trailing behind with a bemused smile on his face.

After that, the two children were practically glued together. When he was told that he would have to let go of Vatha’s hand so she and her family could settle into their quarters, Syvek was clearly devastated. While four amused parents looked on indulgently, Syvek promised the girl he would see her at dinner that night.

The Chertanians were on their way to a reception honoring the newly inaugurated Executive Prefect of Cha’ardania, the only life-supporting planet in Chertan’s neighboring system. Kirk had been ordered to transport the family on their weeklong trip as a show of Federation support and friendship.

There was a time when this sort of mission would have annoyed Kirk to no end, as he preferred the more exciting facets of space exploration to the routine diplomatic missions. Now that he had a family, he was thankful for the downtime, recognizing it as a chance to have more leisure time with his husband and son while the ship had a lower chance of being attacked by a dangerous entity. Of course, there were duties he had to attend to, posturing for the king and queen and running the ship. But knowing that they were not close to enemy territory, knowing that the peaceful Chertanians and Cha’ardanians were unlikely to draw any unwanted attention from Klingons or Romulans, and knowing that everyone on the ship was on their best behavior for the royals was a great relief to the captain. He looked forward to spending several quiet nights with Spock and Syvek this week.

That first night, though, there was a formal dinner party to welcome the guests aboard. Senior officers and department heads were required to attend in full dress uniform; in fact, Kirk had ordered that dress uniforms were to be worn for the duration of the mission.

The royal family sat at a table with Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, and Syvek. Spock and Kirk had always had trouble getting Syvek to consume an adequate amount of nutrition, and when they were eating with a large group of people, it was even more difficult. Compounding the problem was the obvious crush that Syvek had on Vatha.

All throughout dinner, Syvek stayed quiet, but his eyes never stayed away from the young girl for more than a few seconds at a time, sneaking surreptitious glances at her between every bite. Vatha’s eyes met his every so often, and the two kids would look away immediately with small smiles on their faces.

After dinner, the guests and officers were given a chance to mingle and enjoy dessert. There was a variety of sweet dishes from various Federation planets and Chertan Prime. Despite the formal dress, the atmosphere was relaxed and jovial, and Kirk was able to enjoy the evening. While he, Sulu, and the queen discussed similarities between their home planets, Spock and Scotty answered all the questions the oldest two children, ages 17 and 15 by Earth standards, asked about the ship. The 8- and 12-year-old girls had gone with Uhura to look at her earring collection. McCoy was chatting with the king about the illness that had prevented their 6-year-old son from accompanying them.

It wasn’t until Kirk felt a strange dizziness in the back of his mind that he thought to look around for his son. As he surveyed the room, his eyes met Spock’s, and he knew that Spock had felt the same thing, that it must have been from the parental bond. Kirk’s imagination went into overdrive as he thought of all the things that could be happening to Syvek.

It didn’t take them long to find Syvek, who was predictably with Vatha. They were behind the dessert table, sitting on the floor with a nearly empty plate of sweets between them. And they were both naked.

“Syvek!” Kirk exclaimed, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

Syvek slowly rolled his head in Kirk’s direction and gazed at him with glassy eyes. His mouth hung open, as if his jaw was completely relaxed. He looked at his daddy for a moment before giggling softly.

“Hi, Daddy! Thissiz good!” He gestured to the plate with a clumsy hand while Vatha nodded enthusiastically. He covered his mouth with both hands and laughed. “I feel… jiggly.”

“Why aren’t you wearing your clothes?”

“We’re makin’ babies!” Syvek announced.

Three years, six months, twenty-two days old

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Kirk asked wistfully from his bed when Spock exited the restroom.

Spock froze, an expectant and stricken look in his eyes. “Please, Jim, do not sing.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he huffed.

“In that case,” Spock continued, relaxing, “yes, you have. This morning, in fact, before my shift. And again afterwards, just before your own shift. Also after your shift.”

“Oh…” He deflated for a moment before brightening again. “Well, it’s true. I love you.”

“And I you,” Spock replied. “I take it you wish to engage in coitus tonight?”

“Am I that transparent?” Kirk pouted.

“You have a tendency to become more affectionate when you desire an evening of intimacy, but I have no complaints about your behavior.”

“Then get your sexy green ass over here.” He pulled back the covers, revealing his nude body.

Spock’s brow shot up as he approached the bed. “Confident as always, I see,” he teased, but he knew his words were undermined when Kirk could already see the bulge in his pants. Noticing the hungry look on Kirk’s face and following his line of sight down to his own erection, Spock smiled with mischief. He reached down and rubbed the palm of his hand against his firm flesh. His eyes fluttered shut, and he drew in a shaky breath. When he opened his eyes, he saw Kirk working his fingers in and out of his already slick anus. He uttered a deep moan and quickened his leisurely pace. By the time he reached his husband, he was nude.

“Jim, you have prepared yourself for me. I find this most… stimulating.”

“Mmhmm,” Kirk hummed. “I confess I am feeling stimulated as well.” Indeed his erection was already fully extended, and precome was forming at the tip.

“May I?” Spock asked, kneeling between Kirk’s legs on the bed and gesturing toward his hand.

“Oh yes.”

As Spock’s fingers slid into Kirk’s hot body, he gasped in pleasure. He drew closer and sucked a testicle into his mouth, eliciting a weak whimper from his lover. Caught up in his pleasure and that of his bondmate, Spock started talking in Vulcan. “Bolau nash-veh, t’hy’la (I need you, soul mate). Taluhk nash-veh k’dular (I cherish thee).” His breathing increased in speed and volume. “Sanu, kal-tor tu (Please, let me)...”

“Yes! Now!”

Spock slid into Kirk slowly, sealing their lips together and pressing a thumb against Kirk’s perineum. Kirk’s answering moan would’ve been embarrassingly high-pitched if he had been able to think on such a level.

Descending nearly into babbling, Spock gasped, “Ashayam, rom, wufik, fal, Ekon (beloved, good, tight, hot, God)!” He thrust into him, slowly and tenderly, then faster, viciously. He slid the hand that wasn’t tweaking and twisting one of Kirk’s delicious, pink nipples up to grasp his balls and roll them around his warm palm. He sucked the other nipple into his mouth and teased it with his teeth, nibbling hard, without mercy.

When Spock’s thrusts stopped and he raised his head, Kirk sobbed a protest. “No! Don’t tease me now!”

Fingers of the hand that hadn’t been in Kirk’s ass covered his mouth, but when Kirk thrust his tongue between them to tickle the slight webbing there, Spock rolled off Kirk, a pained look of regret accompanying his withdrawal. “Ni’droi’ik nar-tor (I am sorry),” he whispered. Before Kirk could ask what Spock’s problem was, the fresher door slid open and their young son nervously stepped through, clutching his blankie and stuffed toy tribble.

Kirk hurriedly pulled up the blanket and sat up. “What’s wrong, kid?” he asked, out of breath.

“I had a bad dream,” Syvek whimpered, voice quivering in time with his bottom lip.

Despite the ‘I don’t care!’ that flew into Kirk’s mind during a moment of weakness, he said, “Do you want us to tuck you back in?”

“No,” Syvek whispered, shaking his head. “Can I sleep in here?”

Spock, who’d apparently slipped back into his pants at some point, pulled back his corner of the covers. He had also been able to rid himself of his erection, likely a skill learned through Vulcan control or a byproduct of Vulcan sexual repression. Syvek ran and launched himself into Spock’s arms as Kirk skillfully rolled out of bed and slid into his robe.

He, on the other hand, needed to shield his erection, which had barely subsided, from the child. He responded to Spock’s eyebrow, the one that had risen when Spock noticed Kirk’s continuing struggle, with a look that he hoped conveyed, ‘What? I have a healthy, active libido. And I was so close!’

“Daddy will be back in a minute, Sy,” Kirk said, walking toward the bathroom. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced. When he passed Spock, he added a quiet, “To rub one out.”

Three years, six months, twenty-seven days old

Syvek was learning how to read, maybe a bit too quickly. Whereas he’d been able to read thirteen words (not counting the few names he could recognize) on his third birthday, he could figure out enough Standard words less than six months later to make sense of documents that his parents had not yet bothered to encrypt. The first time they’d realized that he was quite a lot smarter than they’d thought (and terrifyingly sneaky) was during an evening meal in the officer’s mess. Sitting at a table with his dads, McCoy, Scotty, Uhura, and Chapel, Syvek had eaten quietly while the doctor told a story about a strange illness he’d seen on a colony.

“Of course, at first I had no idea what it was,” he’d said after describing the symptoms.

Spock had chimed in, saying, “Naturally.”

The comment prompted the doctor to pause his story in favor of insulting Spock’s heritage. Spock replied with an overly innocent expression of curiosity regarding McCoy’s credentials and the manner in which they were obtained. Suddenly Syvek had spoken up.

“Mind your own bidness, Mr. Spock,” he’d interjected, startling everyone at the table. It was all too easy to forget there was a small child in your midst when the child was so quiet all the time. “I’m sick of your half-breed innerference, do you hear?”

Stunned into silence, the collective population of the table glanced surreptitiously at Spock to see what he would do. Except Kirk. He burst into laughter.

“Sy!” he cried between laughs. “How did you hear about that?”

“I read it.”

“It seems we will need to change our network access passwords and guard them more closely,” Spock said to Kirk. Then he turned to face Syvek. “While I do not appreciate your employment of such insulting vocabulary or the rather rude sentiment, I do recognize your reference and realize that the words are not your own. I am also impressed with the amount and level of reading you must have encountered while perusing past reports. When did you first encounter the phrase your dad used?”

“One point four weeks ago.”

“You waited that long to work that into a conversation?” McCoy asked, impressed. A week was practically a lifetime to a kid Syvek’s age.

Syvek hesitated. “There were three times when I coulda said it, but I wanted lotsa people to hear it.”

Snickers were unsuccessfully suppressed around the table, and Kirk held his hand over his mouth for a moment before asking, “How did you access those files?” He was nearly certain that he always logged off his computer terminal before leaving his quarters.

“Your passwords were easy to do,” Syvek admonished. “You should add charackerts other than letters in your password, Daddy. ‘PonFarrFTW’ took a couple minutes to crack.” He took a small amount of delight in the red-faced glare McCoy was leveling at his Daddy.

Gratified that the nonplussed expressions on Lt. Uhura, Lt. Cmd. Scott, and Nurse Chapel’s faces indicated a lack of familiarity with the term “Pon Farr” but unwilling to explain the meaning should the question arise, Spock sharply rebuked the boy. “Syvek! That is enough.”

On a roll, Syvek smiled at his father. “Yours isn’t much better. ‘SexyHuman69’ didn’t even take ten minutes.”

Sensing a very pissed-off Vulcan appearing in the very near future, Kirk interjected. “We will discuss your unauthorized access of potentially classified material later. Finish eating.”

Syvek obeyed, but it was a good five minutes before the laughter died down enough that McCoy was able to finish his story.

Fic: Life of Syvek, Pt. 2

2011-04-18T20:50:42Z

Title: Life of Syvek, Pt. 2
Author: brown-polyester
Universe/Series: Star Trek: TOS
Rating: NC-17 at times
Relationship status: Established
Word count: 10,063 total; 2,984 this part
Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance, Drama
Tropes: Kidfic, Family
Warnings: None
Additional Pairings: A little Syvek/OFC, but the kid's 2.5-ish, so... yeah...
Author's Notes: Part 3 has some (probably terrible) Vulcan words in it, so if you're a Vulcan scholar, let me know if it sucks. If you're not a Vulcan scholar, it's a good thing I put a translation in parentheses beside the Vulcan words!
Summary: “All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training and The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk.

Part 1

Two years, four months, seventeen days old

“Give it!” Syvek demanded, stomping his foot and holding out an expectant hand.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t do that,” Uhura answered sweetly. She held Spock’s lyre close to her chest, higher than the toddler could reach.

“I wannit back!” he whined.

From where he was sitting across the rec room, Kirk felt the beginnings of a tantrum coiling within the parental bond. He’d been watching his son and the communications officer since Syvek had wandered over to listen to her play. When Uhura had set down the lyre to rest for a moment, Syvek’s sticky hands had pulled the instrument off the table faster than a womp rat chasing a profogg. Naturally, Uhura had snatched it back before Syvek could wreak his indelible havoc on the unsuspecting lyre. Just as naturally, Syvek was pissed.

“Please excuse me for a moment, Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, rising. He crossed the room as quickly as he could without drawing anyone’s attention to the potential scene.

“I know you want it, and I understand that you’re upset,” Uhura replied. Kirk mentally congratulated her for helping Syvek realize that his feelings were a normal reaction. She continued. “But your father let me borrow this, trusting that I would take good care of it, and I don’t want you to break it.”

Oh, not good, he thought. He knew Syvek hated having his weaknesses, in this case his age, pointed out, and insinuating that he would not be careful with a fragile item was not a strategy that the child accepted. Kirk quickened his pace, but his effort was wasted.

With a growl, Syvek lunged at Uhura with his teeth bared. He grabbed her left arm and sank his teeth into her wrist. A pained cry from Uhura was nearly drowned out when Kirk yelled out Syvek’s name. Releasing Uhura’s arm, Syvek shied away from his daddy and crouched under a nearby table, looking the epitome of contrite fear.

Assured that Syvek would stay under the table for the time being, Kirk gently took Uhura’s arm into his hands, looking at her bruising flesh. Syvek had actually broken the skin in two places, the result of his newest, and sharpest, teeth.

Flashing an apologetic smile at her, Kirk said, “You’d better let McCoy take a look at that, Lieutenant. I can tell you that I’m sure the little demon doesn’t have rabies, but I’d hate for anything to get infected.”

“Aye, sir,” she agreed before turning to leave.

Kirk kneeled in front of the table where Syvek had taken refuge and fixed him with a hard glare. “That was not acceptable, young man.” He pulled the toddler out from under the table by his ankle gently but firmly. Holding onto Syvek’s hand, he strode toward the door, nearly dragging Syvek behind him. “You have assaulted one of my officers.”

“Where are we going?” Syvek’s voice was fearful, borderline tearful.

Mindful of the hush that had fallen on the room and the seemingly averted eyes that were somehow still watching them, Kirk lowered his volume. “We’re going to the brig, young man, where you will have five minutes of time-out.”

Syvek’s small gasp was the last thing the present crew members heard before the doors slid shut.

Spock was heading to one of the labs to check on the progress of an experiment when he overheard his name being spoken in hushed tones. He lingered around the corner, curious about topic of discussion.

“I don’t know, but I bet he won’t be happy. I hope I’m not around when he finds out,” someone was saying.

“It would be interesting, though, to hear what he says to the captain when he finds out how Kirk punished their kid, don’t you think?”

“Maybe…,” the first voice replied doubtfully. “But I imagine it would be more frightening than interesting. That Vulcan is damn scary when he wants to be.”

A murmur of assent followed as the two crew members continued down the hall.

Intrigued, Spock decided to investigate this curious conversation. The experiment he’d been about to check was not expected to be complete until late that evening. Turning around, he retraced his steps until he ended up at sickbay. Perhaps McCoy would have some insight.

“So what happened after I left, Scotty?” Uhura’s tone was just as quiet and conspiratorial as that of the crew members Spock had just heard.

“Now see here,” McCoy interrupted, “I don’t want to have a bunch of gossip about Jim polluting my sickbay.” There was a pause during which Spock was reassured that McCoy was acting, for once, as a professional. “So make sure your story is completely accurate.”

“Aye,” Mr. Scott agreed. “The cap’n pulled Syvek oot from under the table, told ‘im ee’d assaulted an officer. Basically dragged ‘im oot o’ the room sayin’ ee was goin’ to time oot in the brig!”

Uhura gasped, McCoy tsked, and Scott said, “Aye.” Spock seethed. He rounded the corner to join the others. Judging from their expressions, he had not tamed the lividness in his eyes sufficiently.

“What preempted this action on the captain’s part?” he asked evenly.

Scott’s eyes widened. By way of explanation, he gestured to Uhura’s wrist, which had just been cleaned. McCoy was about to continue the healing process with a hypospray that was presumably loaded with a cocktail of coagulants, antibiotics, and local anesthetics. Spock was able to recognize the teeth marks that were now raised on the Lieutenant’s skin.

“I see.” Spock took a deep breath. “When did this take place?”

“Just a few minutes ago, sir,” Uhura answered, “in rec room four.”

Spock nodded. “I regret that my son’s outburst resulted in an injury, Lieutenant Uhura,” he murmured. “If you will excuse me, I must find Jim.” He pivoted on his heel and left without another word.

Spock was a firm believer in the adage that the punishment for a transgression should fit the crime that was committed, and as he made his way down the corridor, he contemplated his philosophy on the current matter. He understood that Kirk was attempting to address Syvek’s unexpected behavior by “nipping it in the bud,” as he had explained his actions in the past. However, putting a two-year-old child in a jail cell was, in Spock’s opinion, an extreme step that had surely affected their child deeply.

Carefully unshielding the parental link, Spock’s consciousness was flooded with a deep sense of fear, and Spock reasoned that he would find his husband and child in or near the brig.

Kirk knew he was in trouble the second he saw Spock round the corner. He turned to look into the holding cell where Syvek was sitting, legs drawn up against his chest and head resting on his knees. Shuddering gasps shook his thin shoulders every few breaths, but no cries were apparent. The force field deactivated just before Spock reached him; the five minutes Kirk had programmed had apparently concluded. Though the hum of the electrostatic generators had ceased, Syvek made no move to rise.

“Jim,” Spock intoned quietly.

“Spock,” he replied cordially, hoping to delay the conversation Spock would want to have. In his mind, parents should present a united front and disagreements should be discussed at a later time when the child was not present. For Spock, though, issues should be addressed immediately so that the involved parties could reason through their logic together. “I see you’ve heard about Syvek’s little… incident.”

“Syvek’s incident?” Spock repeated. “From what I understood, you made quite the scene.”

Kirk bristled at the accusation. “Excuse me?” he questioned incredulously. “Surely you’re not implying that I was out of line!”

“Jim,” Spock started patiently, no doubt prepared to frame a logical argument against Kirk’s actions that overlooked Syvek’s fault in the scene, but he was interrupted when Syvek dashed out of the holding cell and into his legs.

“Sa-mekh,” he whined piteously, tugging on Spock’s tunic to request an embrace. Spock, of course, did not decline, bending slightly to pick up the toddler, who wound his arms tightly around his father’s neck and whimpered.

Eyes narrowing, Kirk took in the scene and fumed. “Spock,” he said shortly, “please do not coddle him. He bit Uhura.”

“Yes, I am aware of his actions. And though I find violence reprehensible,” at this point, to his credit, he at least pulled back enough to bestow a disappointed look on Syvek before turning back to Kirk, “I find myself unhappy with your punishment. The boy is two years old.”

“We can’t allow that kind of behavior, not if we expect him to be civilized. He bit her!”

“True, he did bite her. I saw the wound myself. However, you put him in jail. I believe your action to be just as unacceptable as his.”

“Just as…” Kirk trailed off, disbelieving. At that point, he could feel his blood pressure rising, his temper boiling with rage. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths just as McCoy had instructed after his last argument with Spock. When he opened them, he turned and walked away without a word.

“Can you believe that… that bastard!? Arguing with me in front of Syvek not ten minutes after the kid bit Uhura!?” Kirk paced the length of McCoy’s quarters, did a 180, and paced the other way.

“Jim, would you sit down? I’m going to strain my neck watching you run around in circles,” McCoy complained from his seat.

“Come on, Bones,” he pressed, taking the offered seat. “You’re a parent. Can you honestly tell me I’m wrong? That it’s okay to argue with your spouse in front of your kid?”

McCoy sighed. “No, I can’t argue with your point, and I do appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to walk away when you did, knowing that Spock has probably gone back to your quarters and encouraged Syvek that you were in the wrong. But now it’s time to let go of your anger and have an adult discussion with the man.” Another sigh. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but… Why don’t you two come in for a counseling session? You can get the bad feelings off your chests in a neutral environment. Have Sulu or someone take the kid to the gym and work off his aggression.”

Kirk laughed. “That’s a good one, Bones. Then maybe we can get Sarek to come, and Spock can talk through his daddy issues with you two.”

“I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your doctor. Both of you have come to me at some point over the past couple of years to discuss your differing views on parenting. It’s no big secret on the ship that you two have some philosophical issues regarding the kid. I’m not saying you have to do it, but it’s worth considering, even one session.”

McCoy’s confession and reasoning gave Kirk pause. “Spock has come to you before? To talk about me?” He let the idea percolate, wondered if Spock would be willing, and realized that it was indeed worth a try. “All right, I’ll talk to him. Syvek should be asleep by now, anyway.”

Their cabin was dim when Kirk entered, which came as somewhat of a surprise. He didn’t think Spock would have gone to bed already, especially considering their argument. Upon entering the sleeping area, he saw why the lights had been lowered.

Spock was dozing on his back, spread out across the whole bed, while Syvek slept at his side. Syvek was curled into a little ball of Vulcan and sucking his thumb, which was a habit they had been trying to break.

Most of the fight had left Kirk after his talk with McCoy, and the rest had been burned off by his brisk walk to his quarters. The sight of his two favorite Vulcans cuddling together provoked an internal feeling of warmth that permeated his whole being. He sauntered to Spock’s side of the bed and gently kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Spock’s eyes shot open, and he seemed to be embarrassed about his unplanned nap.

“Hey, lover,” Kirk muttered softly. “What’s with the kid?”

Spock blinked a few times, frowning for a moment as he considered Kirk’s words. He looked to his left and carefully shook the boy to awareness. “Syvek, Daddy is home,” he whispered.

Syvek-waking-up-from-a-deep-sleep was one of Kirk’s favorite Syveks. Pissed-off-about-bath-time-Syvek and sugar-high-Syvek were also particularly adorable, but when Syvek was attempting to orient himself to a state of consciousness, he was both cute and sweet. It took nearly two full minutes for him to wake up, during which time Kirk had sat on the other side of Spock and smiled. Then he seemed to remember why he was in his parents’ bed and scrambled across Spock to sit in Kirk’s lap.

He hugged Kirk tightly, tighter than a two-year-old human could have, and said, “I’m sowwy, Daddy.”

Kirk’s eyes met Spock’s, and he saw an apology in those brown depths as well. “For what?” he coaxed. No time like the present to reinforce the lesson he’d learned.

Syvek pulled back. “Umm…” His eyes darted around as he considered the question. “For biting Lootennit Ohuwa.”

“And?” Spock prompted.

“For thwowing a tantwum. And for bein’ bad.” His gaze settled on his lap, where his fingers fidgeted nervously.

“Hey,” Kirk said, getting Syvek’s attention, “you are not ‘bad.’ You just made a bad choice. That doesn’t make you a bad kid.”

“’kay…,” he whispered.

“Who else should you apologize to?”

“Lootennit Ohuwa… And Fahver.”

Spock looked up, surprised. “Why are you apologizing to me, son?”

“’cause I dinnit be a good Vulcan. I had lotsa ‘motions.” The shame in the boy’s voice and posture cut deep into Kirk’s soul, and he could feel Spock’s despair as well.

“Syvek, look at me,” Spock commanded. He reached out to cup Syvek’s chubby cheek in the palm of his hand. “I love you. Love is an emotion, and I am not ashamed to feel it or acknowledge it. Show it,” he amended in response to the boy’s confused look. “Emotions are… unsettling at times, and many Vulcans are uncomfortable with showing them. You must not forget that you are part human, and to hide your emotions is to hide part of yourself. Never let the expectations of others affect the person you are.”

“God, Spock, I love you,” Kirk mumbled, leaning in for a kiss.

“Yuck!” the toddler exclaimed, squirming out of Kirk’s hold.

Kirk laughed. “It’s time for bed, Mister. You can apologize to Lieutenant Uhura in the morning.”

After Syvek was tucked into his crib for the night, Spock and Kirk climbed into their own bed together. Kirk was the first to speak.

“It bothers me when you argue with me in front of Syvek. We need to show him that we support each other’s decisions, especially in terms of discipline. He’s too young to understand that there are different views that can be considered acceptable. The world is black and white for him.”

Spock considered Kirk’s words for a moment before replying. “I agree. When Syvek and I returned to our quarters, we discussed his behavior and the consequences he experienced. I explained to him that violence is not a logical or practical method for obtaining an object or attaining a goal. He told me that he bit the Lieutenant because he ‘didn’t have any words’ to describe his feelings at the time. He also claimed that he would not repeat his actions, for he found the punishment quite distasteful.” A muffled snort from Kirk’s side of the bed drew Spock’s attention to his husband. “Jim?”

“Sorry. It’s just that ‘distasteful’ is a funny adjective to use considering that he was biting.”

“Jim,” Spock continued, frowning infinitesimally, “I wish to address your decision to leave our son in the brig.”

“God, Spock, it was five minutes! You make it sound like I sentenced him to life imprisonment!”

“While time is a universal invariant, I feel constrained to point out that many two-year-olds would consider five minutes to be a lifetime.”

Kirk looked away and sighed. “I know. I just needed to get him out of the rec room and into some place where we could both calm down. When I saw him bite her, I was so embarrassed! I felt like a failure as a father, and at least twenty crew members were there to see it.”

“You are no failure, Jim,” Spock assured him, rolling to lie on his side facing Kirk. He reached out a hand and ran his fingers through Kirk’s hair, eliciting a contented hum from his husband.

“Okay,” Kirk yawned, ready to conclude the discussion for the night. “Sounds like we need to teach him some words he can use to describe and communicate how he’s feeling when he’s upset. That way he can talk instead of bite. Sound good?”

“The fault is mine,” Spock replied. “I seem to have ingrained in our son a reluctance to verbalize and express feelings. His shame at becoming emotional was quite a surprise to me this evening. I had previously thought that we were allowing him to embrace his emotional side, but it seems that I have hindered our progress with subconscious cues.”

Kirk scoffed. “How? By limiting his vocabulary? The kid is two. No two-year-old knows how to describe his feelings properly. The fact that he recognized the reason he bit Uhura is pretty amazing. Stop blaming yourself. We do need to talk about some things, but I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“Very well,” whispered Spock, pulling Kirk against his front. “I love you,” he said softly, taking Kirk’s ear lobe between his teeth and worrying it gently.

“Great,” he murmured sleepily, “now I have two Vulcans with biting problems…”

Part 3

Fic: Life of Syvek, Pt. 1

2011-04-18T19:16:29Z

Title: Life of Syvek, Pt. 1
Author: brown-polyester
Universe/Series: Star Trek: TOS
Rating: NC-17 at times
Relationship status: Established
Word count: 10,062 total; 4,451 this part
Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance, Drama
Tropes: Kidfic, Family
Warnings: None
Additional Pairings: A little Syvek/OFC, but the kid's 2.5-ish, so... yeah...
Author's Notes: Part 3 has some (probably terrible) Vulcan words in it, so if you're a Vulcan scholar, let me know if it sucks. If you're not a Vulcan scholar, it's a good thing I put a translation in parentheses beside the Vulcan words!
Summary: “All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training and The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk.

One day old

“What are you feeding him?” Winona asked, addressing her son without taking her eyes off her new grandson.

“What do you mean? Bottles…?”

“Jimmy,” she sighed, exasperated at his seeming ignorance, but Kirk knew that she was actually irritated that she had to look away from Syvek in order to see her own son. “What are you putting in the bottles?”

“Oh. Formula.” He braced himself, knowing what would come next.

“You know, you were breastfed. For almost two years.”

“I know,” he sighed, familiar with the stories of the sacrifices she’d made to be the best possible mother. “Wait, two years! Isn’t that a little long?”

“Well, it was actually 19 months,” she admitted reluctantly. “However, the average worldwide age of weaning is three years.”

“Look, Mom, formula has come a long way since the 1950s,” he said, a statement of truth that was augmented by an exaggerated tone and choice of year. “It’s just as nutritious as breast milk, and it apparently tastes the same. So I’ve been told.”

“Breast milk contains a mother’s natural antibodies that contribute to an infant’s developing immune system. I don't care how far it's come; formula can't replicate that.”

“Mom, I don’t even know why we’re arguing about this! It’s not as if we have an option.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jim, you know you can take hormone injections that will allow your body to produce milk, right?”

“Oh. My. God. Have you seen my chest? It’s a work of art! I will not grow..." He shook his head and gestured to his chest. "Besides, Spock was breastfed, but his mother had to intersperse feedings with a formula that contained Vulcan nutrients that she couldn’t manufacture.”

“So if she ‘interspersed’ with formula,” she started, and even if the call hadn’t included a video feed, he would’ve known she’d used air quotes, “you can, too. If your problem is with growing breasts, you could employ a wet nurse. And if you don't want to upset your body's natural hormones, you use the alternative method of using a breast pump to stimulate your nipples until they begin to produce milk.”

Kirk was fairly certain that his face was beet red by this point in their conversation. All he had wanted to do was to introduce his mother to her newest grandson and hopefully use the visual facet of the communication to distract her from asking any extensive questions about the boy’s origins. He was beginning to regret suggesting to Spock that he make the call alone because he was now hoping that some sort of energy entity would strike him down, and at least Spock could take the kid away before Kirk hit the ground. “I’m not going to screw up my chest! I was not kidding; it’s beautiful.”

Mrs. Kirk rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Probably the only characteristic of yours that surpasses the aesthetic qualities of your body is your strong sense of modesty. Besides, I never said you had to be the one who took the hormone injections…” She trailed off meaningfully.

Kirk’s life had often been saved, literally and figuratively, by his quick thinking. Part of the reason he and Spock had initially gotten along so well was due to the speed at which his mind worked. Beating Spock at a game of chess or in a match of wits was their equivalent of a seven-year-old kid pulling another seven-year-old kid’s hair. But in this supremely uncomfortable conversation with his mom, Kirk’s mental processing skills were a disadvantage. Immediately after his mom’s implication, his mind provided an image of Spock. With breasts.

He missed breasts. Aside from earlier that week with Spock, he hadn’t had any sexual contact in months, and breasts were one of the best parts of sex, at least when the other party was female. He did not want Spock to have breasts. He was certain that if he ever saw a pair of lactating breasts with black hair covering them, breasts would be ruined forever, and that was what he saw in his mind.

“Thanks, Mom. You’ve ensured that I will now be impotent for the rest of my life.”

Six months, eight days old

Spock rushed into Syvek’s quarters, attempting to quell the panic rising in his chest. He looked around and was relieved to see Kirk standing with Syvek in his arms and making soothing sounds to calm him.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaimed with a bright smile. “I thought you had an important experiment to observe in your lab tonight.”

“I was observing an experiment, Jim, but I deemed it necessary to return when I sensed an intense discomfort and fear through my bond with our son. May I assume you also felt the boy’s emotions?”

A slightly guilty expression replaced Kirk’s grin, and he sheepishly replied, “Well, sort of. I mean, I noticed he was somewhat scared, but you should’ve seen the look on his face! Priceless.”

Allowing his eyes to narrow, Spock considered the implication of his bondmate’s statement as well as what the return of his mirth could mean, and he found that he did not approve of his unavoidable conclusion. “Please tell me you are not saying that you deliberately frightened our son to gain personal enjoyment from his obvious discomfort.” He was aware that his voice had deepened considerably, but experience had taught him that such tangible signs of disapproval were more likely to have an impact on Kirk than formal vocabulary alone.

Kirk shivered, and Spock remembered his bondmate’s admission a few months ago that Spock’s voice had a tendency to affect his libido. The sudden wave of lust that flowed into Spock’s side of the bond confirmed his suspicion that his disappointment and anger had not had the desired effect on Kirk’s glib amusement.

“You gonna spank me, Spock? Check this out,” Kirk said. He moved to stand beside Spock and held Syvek away from his body with his hands beneath the infant’s arms.

Though his initial expression was a smile directed back at his daddy, Syvek seemed to change his mind when he realized what was about to happen. Kirk tossed Syvek into the air approximately nineteen-point-seven inches and caught him neatly. Floating through the air without Kirk’s hands anchoring him was clearly not an enjoyable experience, if Syvek’s face was an accurate indication. His eyes widened, his forehead wrinkled, and his mouth grimaced as he fell back into his dad’s grasp.

With the infant back in his arms, Kirk looked over to face Spock. “Did you see that? Hilarious!”

Unmoved, Spock held out his hands to Syvek, who immediately reached for the safety of his father’s arms. Kirk relinquished him and appeared contrite now that he was on the receiving end of what Spock assumed were twin Vulcan death glares.

“He needs to learn that I’ll always be here to catch him!” Kirk protested weakly.

“I will request only once that you refrain from attempting to teach him this lesson until his cranium is fully formed,” and if the finality in Spock’s voice didn’t alert Kirk to his seriousness, the sudden absence of Vulcans in the room did.

Eight months, twenty-four days old

Syvek wasn’t crawling yet. Kirk wasn’t that worried. Not really. Sure, he’d called his mother, who informed him that both he and his brother had crawled at seven months. So maybe it was his Vulcan development. After all, they developed slower than humans did, physically at least. A communication with Spock’s parents had revealed that Spock was holding onto furniture and walking at nine months. If Kirk had stormed into McCoy’s office as soon as Amanda and Sarek had signed off, demanding to know what was wrong with his kid, it was only because he was curious. He really wasn’t worried.

“All children develop differently, at different rates,” McCoy told him, sighing. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Numerous times. And the little hobgoblin has always proven me right. He always figures it out eventually, right?”

“Yes,” he replied reluctantly. He asked the doctor for ideas on how to encourage crawling, and when he returned to his quarters, he was armed with exercises and techniques to try with Syvek.

Upon entering, he heard music filling the room, some unfamiliar Vulcan instrumental composition. He didn’t see Spock right away but caught sight of him in the sleeping area after a moment. He apparently hadn’t heard Kirk’s entrance, and Kirk was given a rare moment to observe his husband and their baby.

Much to his surprise, Spock started dancing with Syvek in his arms. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard soft humming coming from their general direction. Syvek began giggling as the tempo increased. His chubby hand reached out to one of Spock’s ears while the other was stuffed into his mouth. When the drool-covered palm smacked loudly on Spock’s cheek, Spock actually began to chuckle.

“Would you like to join us, Jim?”

So he had heard Kirk enter. Even better. That meant Spock had allowed him to witness the moment.

He walked to them until he stood just behind Spock and leaned his forehead against a shoulder blade. “Just when I think I can’t possibly love you any deeper…” He trailed off, wonder evident in his voice.

“You are worried.”

He straightened and allowed Spock to turn around to face him. “No. Not really. Maybe. A little.” Collapsing on the bed, he threw an arm over his eyes. “When is Syvek going to start crawling?”

A dip in the mattress told him that Spock had sat beside him. “Why are you so concerned with this? Are you so eager for our child to grow up?”

Spock’s vulnerable tone surprised him, and he looked over to see his husband nuzzling his face against Syvek’s, eyes closed, breathing in deeply.

“No, I just don’t want there to be anything wrong with him. I want to know that he’s healthy. We were both crawling at his age. Standing, even. He just started sitting up on his own two months ago.”

“Neither of us grew up on a starship. The effects of artificial gravity on child development have not been extensively studied, and the development of Syvek’s quarter-Vulcan physiology is a unique experiment in itself,” Spock pointed out.

Kirk blinked a few times. “I’m… going to pretend you didn’t just refer to our son as an experiment,” he eventually said.

“All children are experiments in one way or another. We test ourselves daily as parents, and the results of those tests are what yield the product of Syvek’s adult personality.”

“He’s not a project or a hypothesis for you to test! He’s our baby boy, and he’s not developing at a logically predicted rate!” he cried. “Now put him on the ground so we can teach him to crawl.”

Spock’s brows twitched into a momentary frown. “The ground, Jim?” He pulled Syvek to his chest and protectively cupped his hand behind the small head, drawing it to his shoulder. “That is unsanitary.”

Kirk gaped at his husband. “Unsanitary?” he repeated. “You never put him on the floor?” When Spock cocked his head questioningly, Kirk continued. “What about playing? You must sit with him on the carpet to play, right?”

“I hold him on my lap, but I do not allow him to spend time upon the carpet. The number of pollutants, chemicals, toxins, and bacteria deposited onto the ship’s floorings by our shoes alone could severely affect the boy’s system. How many unknown planets do we visit between the two of us each solar year? The decontamination provided by the transporter’s biofilter is not 100% effective in removing contaminants, and the carpets in the crew’s quarters are cleaned only twice a year.”

Running a hand through his hair, Kirk sighed. “Spock, how can you expect the kid to learn to crawl if he’s never on the ground? He has to build up those muscles! No wonder it took so long for him to be strong enough to sit up alone. Also, if he isn’t ever exposed to germs and toxins, his immune system will not strengthen. What do you want to do? Put the kid in a bubble?”

Perplexed, Spock asked, “What purpose would such an action possibly serve?”

“You’ve never heard of the boy in the bubble? Twentieth century Earth medical case? A baby was born with an immunodeficiency syndrome and had to live in a sterile environment, essentially a plastic bubble, for his entire life.”

Spock drew himself up. “I hardly think a desire to protect the child from alien toxins is comparable to such a situation.”

“Spock, you’ve got to put him down! Give him a chance to grow.” Kirk traced a finger down Spock’s cheek, eliciting a sigh from his lover.

“Very well, Jim. Your argument is logical.” Spock knelt down and placed Syvek on his stomach on the ground. Wide-eyed, the infant turned his head to regard his father. Kirk got the impression that Syvek was unused to being put down when Spock was present. In fact, he was lying still on his stomach, making no attempt to raise himself onto his hands and knees.

“Syvek,” Kirk chuckled, reaching down to position the kid. But Syvek wanted no part of it. He spent about two seconds in a crawling position before he sank down to rest his cheek on the carpet, letting out a few pathetic sobs.

Crawling around to face Syvek, about one meter in front of him, Kirk put his hands out on the carpet.

“Come on, buddy!” he prompted. “Syvek, come to Daddy!”

But Syvek just cried.

“Jim,” Spock began, a hint of pleading in his tone, “he is not ready to crawl. Your actions are upsetting him.” He reached down to pick Syvek up, but Kirk jumped forward, putting his hand on Syvek’s back.

“No! Give him a chance!”

Spock stepped back reluctantly, giving Kirk a doubtful look before returning his attention to their son. Syvek stayed still, face on the ground and butt in the air. Kirk gave him a couple more minutes, but he just wasn’t interested.

“Fine,” Kirk sighed, sitting up. He gathered Syvek in his arms, unable to quell his smile at the boy’s happy reaction. He looked up at Spock and said, “But you do need to put him down once in a while.”

Eight months, twenty-nine days old

A previously unknown type of spore had been discovered on the Enterprise’s latest away mission. The members of the away team had found that, after being exposed to the spore, they were able to communicate telepathically with others who had been exposed. The effect had only lasted one solar day, but the mechanism that caused the heretofore psi-null human crew members to become telepaths was a mystery. Spock was in Science Lab 4 attempting to isolate the active compound in the spore.

A bosun’s whistle cut through the air before Spock heard Kirk’s voice. “Kirk to Spock.”

He crossed the room and pressed the communication button. “Spock here, Captain.”

“Spock! You’ve got to get to our rooms,” Kirk said excitedly. “Quickly!”

Immediately Spock felt for any disturbances in his familial bonds, but none seemed to be present. “Has there been an emergency, Jim?”

“No, but you need to get up here!”

The urgency in Kirk’s voice convinced Spock to acquiesce. “Very well, sir. I shall arrive shortly.” After shutting off the equipment he had been using, Spock left, moving down the corridor in measured strides without allowing his imagination to form any hypotheses regarding Kirk’s insistence.

Upon entering their shared quarters, Spock scanned the room for his family. Kirk was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Syvek was standing on the floor beside it.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaimed, beaming up at him. “Look at Syvek! He’s standing up!”

Spock’s gaze settled on the boy dubiously. “Jim, you do realize that he is holding onto the bed and your leg, correct?”

Giving Spock a withering glare (a withering glare that did not come close to withering Spock), Kirk said, “Of course I realize that. But isn’t this great? Just a few days ago, I was worried that he might be developmentally disabled or something because he wasn’t crawling yet, and now he’s about to start walking! Our kid is a genius!”

Just as he finished his last sentence, Syvek lost his balance and fell on his bottom, blinking in surprise.

“Okay,” Kirk conceded, “maybe he’s not about to start walking, but he’s standing up. He is finally interested in moving around. I’m so proud of him!” His hand reached out to grab Spock’s. He gave him a watery smile and squeezed the appendage while Syvek pulled himself back up. Spock smiled indulgently and began to pull away to return to the lab, amused at his bondmate’s emotional outburst and feeling no small amount of fondness himself.

“Bai gah yub yub,” Syvek chirped happily. Spock couldn’t have stopped the short laugh that sprang from his lips even if Surak himself had been in the room. Abandoning the lab for the night, Spock sank down to his knees and rested his head on Kirk’s other knee.

One year, three months, nine days old

Kirk was dreaming. There was a soft hand on his semi-hard dick and a hard body behind him. He wiggled closer to the warmth at his back but was disappointed that his movement had the effect of decreasing the pressure on his groin. Making a frustrated noise, he inched forward into that inviting fist. But he missed the anchoring sensation of his dream lover behind him, so he pressed back again, whining at the loss of those fingers on his erection.

He heard a deep chuckle. Spock. Of course. Good. “Spo…,” he whispered, pouting. In response, his ethereal bondmate thrust his own hips forward, sandwiching his Vulcan erection between their bodies and tightening his grip on Kirk’s hips. “Spahhh!” A deep moan emanated from Kirk’s throat when Spock’s thumb rubbed over the tip of Kirk’s erection, spreading the pearlescent drop that had gathered there. Spock’s hand left his penis, and Kirk felt that same thumb nudging his lips. He turned his head away in disgust. Just thinking about tasting his own come, or precome, either way, made him shudder. Real Spock knew Kirk wasn’t into that. In fact, trying to get Kirk to taste it was pretty out of character for Dream Spock, who was usually a smoldering sex god, not a playful lover.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. When he saw Real Spock’s real hand hovering in front of his face, he scooted backwards, gratified that the hand withdrew when his bare ass contacted Spock’s pajama-covered erection. “What the hell, Spock?” he grumbled, irritated at the knowledge that his words were undermined by the arousal in his voice. “That’s gross.”

Spock raised his hand until it disappeared behind Kirk’s head. “I do not understand,” he started, and even though Kirk couldn’t see him, he could hear that Spock’s thumb was between his lips, “why you are repulsed by your own bodily fluids but have no qualms tasting mine.”

Kirk’s hand reached up to grasp Spock’s wrist and move it back to his erection. “I know you don’t. Now keep touching me.” He sighed happily when Spock obeyed.

The sensations of Spock’s hand on Kirk’s penis, lips and tongue on his neck, and erection against his ass soon built up and had Kirk thrusting into Spock’s grasp. A growl of dissatisfaction erupted from Spock, as the rhythm Kirk set was unsteady, not complementary to Spock’s strokes. After shimmying out of his pajamas, he threw his right leg over both of Kirk’s to steady him. Holding Kirk’s legs with his own, Spock thrust his desperate erection between his lover’s tightly clasped thighs, reveling in the feel of Kirk’s scrotum rubbing along the top and Kirk’s muscular thighs surrounding the rest. Now that he had control of Kirk’s hips, he timed his thrusts and strokes to give his bondmate the desired amount of sensation.

With Spock’s slippery cock sliding along his balls, flat abs pressing against his ass, and devilish hand on his erection, it wasn’t long until Kirk was babbling incoherently. “Oh, guh,” he groaned, “fuhhhh. Yes, fasterrrrr.” Sensations swirled around him and across their bond, making him dizzy with need. He could feel Spock’s erection dragging a wet line of precome across his inner thigh. An animalistic grunt accompanied a particularly harsh thrust, and Spock was coming, coming, coming, spraying hot fluid on Kirk’s shaft. Spock squeezed, too hard, or maybe just hard enough, and human come spurted all over the bedclothes in front of Kirk.

They stayed like that, spooning together, with Spock’s softening member retracting from its place between Kirk’s sticky thighs, with Spock’s hot, moist breath soothing the various bite marks on the back of Kirk’s neck, with Kirk’s shuddering breaths jarring both of their bodies, for a couple of minutes before Spock spoke. “Good morning, my love.”

Kirk’s reply was raspy. “Wake me up like that every day, okay?”

Spock hummed in agreement before rolling backwards. “My shift begins in 14.62 minutes. I require a shower.”

Sitting up and watching Spock make his way to the restroom, Kirk eagerly said, “I’ll join you!”

Spock stopped short. “Perhaps you did not hear me properly. I now have 14.39 minutes until I am required on the bridge. I only have time to complete my morning ablutions.”

“You don’t think I can control myself?” Kirk asked haughtily. “I did just have an amazing orgasm.” He climbed out of bed and sauntered toward Spock, whose eyes seemed to be taking in the movement of every muscle under Kirk’s glistening skin.

“I do not recall claiming that I was concerned about your lack of self control.” He turned and entered the bathroom.

“Dada!” said a voice from the baby monitor.

Kirk felt a wave of fatigue flow over him, a feeling that normally happened on mornings when he woke early, lying awake in bed until his alarm clock went off and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Why, God?” he sighed dramatically. Then, seeing his chance, he ran into the bathroom.

Spock was stepping into the shower cubicle and didn’t even look up when Kirk entered.

“Spock! Syvek’s awake. Let me jump in the shower for 2 minutes so I don’t have to take him to breakfast with my balls sticking to my thighs.”

“No.” He closed the shower door and activated the sonic shower.

“Oh, come on! One minute!” There was no answer, though both men could hear Syvek beginning to wail. Kirk opened the door to Syvek’s quarters and stuck his head in. “Be there in a minute, buddy,” he said before backing out of the room and closing the door.

“Jim, you have 9.23 hours until your shift begins. You can shower during Syvek’s nap.”

The baby, who had been stunned into silence when his daddy appeared and then left, started to scream loudly enough that his parents heard him clearly even over the sound of the shower.

Recognizing his plea as a lost cause, Kirk heaved a disgusted sigh. “Fine,” he said, tone clipped, “I’ll leave you alone. But don’t wake me up like that again!”

Though his day had started out in the best way possible, it had gone downhill quickly. While Spock showered, Kirk had gone to their son. Unable to shower without leaving the boy alone, which was obviously not an option, he had been forced to wait until Syvek’s morning nap. So from 07:14 to 10:30, every time he moved, his pubes, glued to his thigh with Spock’s dried come, pulled against their follicles. He’d never been so thankful for the kid’s nap time.

Kirk changed Syvek’s diaper and set him in his crib before practically running out to the shower. He didn’t care if Syvek stayed awake. I probably should’ve just left him in there when he woke up and showered after Spock left, he thought as he stripped off his shirt. Oh well.

He opened his pants to relieve himself before his shower, but just before he started to pee, he was startled by a klaxon. He jumped and looked down to see pee all over the toilet, the floor, and of course, his pants.

“God damn it!” he yelled. He pulled off his pants and used them to sop up the mess before running into his quarters naked. He technically wasn’t working this shift, but when a red alert sounds, the captain goes to the bridge. Knowing he had only seconds to spare before his yeoman arrived to watch Syvek, he decided to skip underwear altogether and grabbed a clean uniform from his wardrobe. He’d just zipped up his left boot when the door chimed.

“Sy’s in his crib, hopefully sleeping,” he said in a rush, flashing a thankful grin at Yeoman Ross on his way out the door.

When he arrived on the bridge, his mood was even fouler than it had been after he peed all over the bathroom. Running down the corridors with dried semen chafing his balls was just icing on the cake of shit that was his day so far. He kept a neutral façade when he stepped onto the bridge and took the conn from Spock, ignoring the slight flaring of the Vulcan’s nostrils and the nearly imperceptible twitch of a brow.

Dealing with the emergency took several hours, and it wasn’t until nearly 1900 hours that the crisis was averted. Kirk, exhausted, decided to skip his shift, and he and Spock returned to their quarters together.

Yeoman Ross was reading a story to Syvek in his room when the two men arrived. After greeting her commanding officers, she let Syvek off her lap, and he toddled over to his dads as quickly as he could.

“Hello, sirs,” she said. “Syvek was great, as usual. He took two good naps, and he has eaten lunch and dinner. I know you had to leave in kind of a hurry, Captain, so I tidied up your quarters a little. And your bathroom.” A nervous blush spread over her face, and she averted her eyes. Kirk winced internally when he realized exactly what the mess in the bathroom had been. “When the red alert ended, I decided to read to Syvek until you arrived.”

Kirk thanked and dismissed the yeoman, crouching down to pick up his son. As soon as she left, he stood, wincing and pulling at his groin, and with a glare, he handed the boy to Spock before entering the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

Part 2

Fic: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 3/3

2011-01-02T22:37:51Z

Title: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 3/3

Author: brown_polyester

Universe/Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17 (at times)

Relationship Status: Slash, Established (Establishing) Relationship

Word Count: 3,680, this part

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance

Tropes: kidfic

Warnings: None

Additional Pairings: Bones/OFC/OFC mentioned

Summary: More events in the life of Syvek Kirk and his parents, Jim and Spock. Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training

Disclaimer: I tried, but my bank account is too small.

Author Notes: A/N: Just so y’all know, I decided that in my universe, they had a second five-year mission right after the first. I guess Kirk refused a promotion after five years as a captain or something. I just want Syvek to grow up on a ship with all our favorite Trek characters.

Part 1. Part 2.

Four years, four months, nineteen days old

It was incredibly difficult to stay quiet and still, but Syvek was determined not to miss it this year. He had tried last year, but he fell asleep before he could even sneak out of his bed. Tonight he had snuck out shortly after his parents had tucked him in, and he was prepared. He had his blankie, pillow, stuffed Horta (Sir Epididymis), and Dr. McCoy’s camera. Hopefully the light from the Christmas tree in his parents’ quarters would be sufficient because he knew better than to use the flash setting.

Now he was curled up just outside Daddy and Father’s quarters, grateful for the warmth his blankie provided against the cold floor of the bathroom. He vowed to stay awake until he heard him. He was not going to miss Santa this year.

Part of him was unsure about the guy. A man who could deliver presents to everyone in the Federation (except Jewish people, according to Bones) in one night, a man who could fly around space in a sleigh pulled by reindeer who didn’t even have warp capabilities, a man who ate cookies at every single being’s residence? Illogical. But everybody on the ship said Santa Claus was real.

Uhura had told Syvek stories about Santa’s visits to her home when she was a little girl. Santa grew up in Russia, according to Pavel. Sulu claimed that, before he got into the toy business, Santa was a samurai, but Scotty was sure that he’d always made toys. Bones told Syvek once that Santa’s elves had green blood and pointy ears like Vulcans and that maybe Syvek could be an elf if he didn’t get much bigger. Of course, after Syvek had refused to eat anything but Twinkies the next day (he’d always been told that Twinkies didn’t make little boys grow big and strong), Daddy had spoken with Bones, who’d later told Syvek that Santa actually wasn’t hiring any more elves.

This time, he would catch Santa, and just in case, Syvek was wearing his elf pajamas, the red-and-white and green-and-white striped ones. The kid was focusing so hard on keeping his excitement in check and shielding his thoughts (if elves were related to Vulcans, maybe Santa was telepathic… it was better to be safe than sorry, Father always said) that he barely heard the sounds coming from the next room. Pressing his ear against the door and holding his breath, he listened. There was some definite rustling going on, and he thought he could hear some low murmurs. Maybe Santa had brought some of his elves with him!

No, he thought, listening even closer, that sounds like Father’s voice. It made sense. Everybody knew that parents, not just elves, were Santa’s helpers, too. Santa needed a lot of helpers. It was a big job.

Part of Syvek’s plan had required him to deactivate the power to the bathroom door so that Santa wouldn’t hear it swishing open. He dug his little fingers into the space between the door and its socket, giving it a little tug to open it. It didn’t take more than a foot for him to squeeze through the opening with the camera, ready to get some concrete evidence. What was a hypothesis, after all, without an experiment?

He dropped to the floor and crawled to hide by Daddy’s desk. Peeking around the corner, his jaw dropped open. Santa was there! But he was sitting in Daddy’s desk chair. And Father was sitting on his lap.

Syvek frowned and tilted his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Father wasn’t sitting on Santa’s knee like Syvek had a few weeks ago. No, Father was facing Santa, and his knees were on either side of his lap. Their faces were very close, and it looked as if Father was trying to get even closer. He kept leaning against Santa and then leaning back. When their lips touched, Syvek had to bite his hand to keep quiet.

He looked around frantically for Daddy, but he seemed to be gone. This was bad. This was very bad. Daddy could come in at any moment, and he would not like finding Father kissing Santa. In addition, the manner in which Father seemed to be attempting to crawl into Santa’s red suit was most disturbing.

Oh, no, Syvek thought, distressed. He’s not interested in Santa’s suit. Yes, this was most disturbing, indeed.

Maybe he was trying to crawl into Santa’s skin. It was clear now that Father did not want anything to do with Santa’s clothing. On the contrary, he was beginning to remove said garments.

Syvek ducked behind the desk as Santa’s belt sailed across the room. Poking his head out from behind the desk, he saw Father begin to take off Santa’s red hat. Santa quickly put his hand atop his hat, shaking his head. Father’s lips quirked in amusement.

“Very well… Santa.”

“Ho ho ho,” Santa laughed. His laugh seemed somewhat familiar, but Syvek couldn’t quite place it.

When Father unfastened Santa’s pants and reached in, Syvek was unable to hold in a quiet squeak. He squeezed his eyes shut and froze with terror, certain they’d heard him.

This is it, he thought. No presents for me. All I will get is a small, compressed mass of combustible sedimentary rock formed of partially decomposed vegetable matter.

“Oh, Spock,” Santa whispered. “Yessssss.”

They hadn’t heard him!

It was time, Syvek decided. He was not going to press his luck any further. He crawled swiftly toward the bathroom. Upon reaching the door, he grabbed his pillow and blankie before making a break for his own room.

Exhausted, his last thought before he fell asleep was, what am I going to say to Father in the morning?

Spock slowly stilled his hips, giving his and Kirk’s erections one more stroke where they were pressed together in his hand. He rested his forehead against the fluffy white trim of the Santa hat while he and his husband slowly regained their breath.

Kirk was the first to speak. “So…,” he gasped, “should we start putting the kid’s gifts under the tree now?”

“You are the only one of us who is currently wearing the proper garments for the task.” He stood and allowed Kirk to rise. “I believe I will attempt to ascertain the nutritional value of the comestibles our son has provided.”

“Sex never used to make you this lazy,” Kirk groaned. “Well, save at least one cookie for me.”

While “Santa” proceeded to call the transporter room via the intercom, Spock headed to the bathroom to wash his hands before eating. He was surprised to find the door stuck open about ten inches. The door panel had no effect when he attempted to use it to open the door fully. Unbidden, he felt an eyebrow rise up.

He went to their computer terminal and checked the internal systems status. “Fascinating.”

Kirk had just finished instructing the transporter technician on duty to transport Syvek’s gifts to his quarters from the cargo bay where they were hidden, and he turned to find out what had interested Spock. “What is it, my little elf?”

“Someone has turned off the power flow to the restroom door in our quarters. It was functioning when we tucked Syvek into bed, but the door is now ajar.”

Frowning, Kirk began to walk toward the door in question, but he stopped when he kicked something that was lying on the floor. “Shit.” He bent down to retrieve McCoy’s camera from the floor. “Spock, you might want to take a look at this. Then again, you might not…”

A flush spread across Spock’s face when he saw what his bondmate had recovered from the floor. He stood behind him so he would be able to look over his shoulder when he turned on the camera and reviewed the holopics that had been taken.

There were some pictures of crewmembers at their stations, in the mess, off and on duty. Several pictures looked as if they had been taken from the observation deck, likely images that were sent to Joanna on Earth. Most of the pictures were from their recent shore leave. There were pics of Chapel sunbathing on the beach of Suraya Bay on Risa, Sulu and Chekov wandering around the beach with an old-fashioned metal detector, Uhura and Scotty sitting close together at a beachfront café, and Kirk and Syvek playing in the water. Next were a few pics of a pair of Risian women, smiling prettily at the camera behind which a doubtlessly lecherous McCoy stood.

The next picture actually included McCoy. One of the Risian women from the previous three pictures was kneeling in front of the doctor, who stood in front of a hotel room bed. She was clearly giving him a blowjob, though both Kirk and Spock were relieved that her head was blocking the view. They were not as impressed with the following holopic.

In this one, Bones was fully naked on the bed, positioned on his hands and knees. One Risian woman was penetrating him from behind with a hot pink strap-on, and the other woman was on the bed below him, her facial expression suggesting that she was impressed with the way the human was suckling on her breast.

“Guh!” Kirk exclaimed, hitting the ‘next’ button.

Unfortunately, the next holopic was actually a holovid. Just as McCoy’s hips started thrusting into the Risian woman below him with the combined force of the other woman’s thrusts into his ass, Kirk dropped the camera and walked to where the gifts had appeared.

“You can check that out to see if there are any pics of us. I’ve gotta… do… this.” He shuddered before picking up the first of the brightly wrapped presents.

Spock was relieved to see that no pictures had been taken that evening. He reengaged the power to the bathroom door before crossing the room to activate the door panel. Another piece of evidence implicating Syvek in this upsetting spy mission was lying on the floor.

“Jim,” Spock said, approaching his bondmate’s fuzzy, red form. “Look.” He held up the stuffed Horta toy that Syvek rarely slept without.

“Sir Epididymis…” Kirk hated that thing. Hortas were not especially attractive beings, and McCoy’s suggestion of a name to Syvek did not help Kirk’s opinion of the toy. He sat in his desk chair wearily. “So, Syvek tried to sneak in to take a picture of Santa Claus but likely got an eyeful of us rubbing our cocks together instead?”

Spock nodded. “That seems to be the most likely determination we can make at this time.”

“So we’ve not only ruined our kid by inadvertently allowing him to witness us in a sexual situation, but we have also ruined the concept of Christmas by giving away the fact that there is no Santa? Poor kid is going to have the most traumatic story to tell in 20 years when he and his friends start talking about how they found out there was no Santa.”

Sitting on the edge of the desk, Spock reached out to Kirk. “There is nothing we can do about it tonight. I suggest we finish preparing for the morning. Then we can decide what we will say to Syvek when he wakes.”

Ultimately they decided not to say anything to Syvek, to let him take the lead and mention it if he decided to do so.

Four years, four months, twenty days old

He woke slowly, taking a moment to assimilate his thoughts before checking the time. 0600 hours. Christmas! It was Christmas morning!

Syvek sat up abruptly and grabbed the monitor by his bed. “Daddy! Father! Wake up! It’s Christmas! Come get me!!!” He swung his legs over the edge of his bed, bouncing in excitement. After an eternity of waiting, he glanced at the clock in his room. 0601! he thought. What was taking so long?

It only took a few seconds of deliberation before he jumped down on his own. He knew Daddy didn’t want him to get out of bed by himself, not because he wasn’t a big boy but because Daddy was afraid that if Syvek got out of bed on his own, he would leave his quarters and wander around. Syvek knew better than that.

To make up for getting out of bed without Daddy or Father’s help, Syvek decided to make his bed. He pulled his blankie flat across the mattress and set Sir Epididymis beside his pillow. He idly fingered the soft fringes on Sir Epididymis’s bottom and tried to identify the strange feeling he had that he was forgetting something. Then the bathroom door swished open, and he rocketed into Father’s arms.

“Father! Daddy! Did Santa come?”

For some reason, Daddy’s face turned bright red, but Father answered Syvek’s question calmly.

“Yes, Syvek. Before we open gifts, you need to use the potty.” He set him down beside the toilet and waited.

Syvek looked up with a hint of exasperated petulance. “I need some privacy, please.”

Father and Daddy left to wait in their quarters. When Syvek finished and washed his hands, he ran into the room. An empty plate was sitting on the desk, a few crumbs serving as the only indication that it had been used.

“He ate all the cookies! And he drank the milk!”

He rounded the desk to see what Santa had left beneath the tree. It wasn’t until there were only a handful of presents remaining under the tree that Syvek calmed down enough to think.

That chair! Syvek was on the floor next to Daddy, who was sitting in the desk chair. Father was kneeling in front of Daddy, watching him open a gift. When Daddy lifted a book out of the box he’d unwrapped, he smiled at Father and thanked him.

Syvek’s eyebrows rose when he saw Father rise to his feet and lean over the chair to kiss Daddy. Suddenly he remembered it all! His plan to catch Santa, his hiding spot behind the desk, seeing Santa in his parents’ quarters, Santa sitting where Daddy was now sitting, Father kissing Santa while he rubbed their bodies together… He struggled to calm his rage.

The last thing he wanted to do was alert Daddy to the turmoil inside his head. If Daddy knew he was upset, it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out why. Then he would get mad. He’d probably be very angry with Father, and he might even be upset with Syvek for sneaking out of bed. Father would certainly be angry with Syvek.

He made his face go blank and relaxed his shoulders. He’d been learning how to meditate since he turned four, so he let himself go into a light meditative state. Still aware of what was going on, he was able to hide his emotions in a place far away from his parental bonds. The success he was having surprised him.

Then Father reached under the tree and withdrew a small gift. It was wrapped with some paper that Syvek had colored himself. He immediately recognized it as the present he’d chosen to give to his father.

“No!” he cried, jumping up and grabbing the item from Father. He ran into the corridor as fast as he could, not caring that everyone would see him in his elf pajamas.

“Syvek!” Daddy called, chasing after him.

But Syvek had gotten a head start, and he was able to outrun his parents quite easily. He jumped up to key in the code to Bones’s door.

“What the...?” McCoy groused, standing in the bathroom doorway, face half-shaven. He saw Syvek jump up to engage the door lock and run to hide in his bed. “What are you doing, Syvek?”

“Syvek!” Spock’s muffled voice could be heard outside the door, gradually getting softer as he continued running.

“Spock?” McCoy said softly, starting to head for the door to catch him.

“No!”

Syvek grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door. Damned Vulcan strength.

“What are you doing, kid?” He took in the boy’s outfit and smiled slowly. “Do you need a ride back to the North Pole, little elf?” When there was no reply, he frowned. “You okay, Syvek?”

Bursting into tears, Syvek shook his head. He jumped into Bones’s arms and wiped his tears on the doctor’s warm shoulder.

“What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be happy! Didn’t Santa come last night?” The raw emotion pouring from the kid was extremely unnerving, and he hoped one or both of the kid’s fathers would feel it and come get him soon.

Syvek cried even harder at the question. Sobbing, he lifted his head and met McCoy’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Okay… So what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Daddy and Father?” He tried not to grunt when Syvek squeezed him tightly around the neck. “Um, please don’t nerve-pinch me.”

“I saw Santa.”

McCoy waited, but apparently the kid thought that was enough of an explanation. “So? That should make you happy.” He carried him to his bed and sat. “Why aren’t you happy?”

“I… I can’t…” Syvek seemed to be unable to put his thoughts into words.

“Calm down, and tell Uncle Bones what’s wrong.”

Syvek peered up at him for a moment before reaching out to his face.

Aw, shit, was all he had time to think before he was hiding behind the desk in Jim and Spock’s room. He peeked around it only to see his two best friends kissing and humping each other like a pair of horny teens. Unfortunately, Syvek’s memory didn’t allow him to look away. He was stuck watching them together for a couple of minutes before Syvek finally broke the meld.

“Damn, kid, don’t do that!” McCoy gasped.

“Did you see that?” Syvek cried. “Father was kissing Santa Claus, and Daddy doesn’t know! Why did he do that? He’s going to hurt Daddy’s feelings! I can’t hide it from Daddy, so he’ll see it in my head and find out what Father did. Then what’s going to happen? What if they hate each other? What if they get avorced like Joanna’s mom and dad?”

He looked at the chronometer at the mention of his daughter’s name and was relieved to see that he had another 27 minutes before his vid conference with her.

“What if they get mad at me because I saw it? I wasn’t supposed to sneak out of bed, but I wanted to see Santa!” Syvek rested his head against McCoy’s chest and sniffled, rubbing the back of his hand along his nose before wiping the hand on McCoy’s pants. “I hate Santa! Why would Father do that? I know he loves Daddy!”

The door slid open, and a worried captain and commander entered.

Syvek gasped fearfully. “Bones! Don’t tell them!” he yelled before hiding his face with Bones’s hand. All Bones could do was give the boy’s fathers a silent, pleading expression, asking them to help.

Kirk knelt down in front of the doctor’s bed and pulled his son from Bones’s lap. “Syvek, calm down, buddy. Shhhh,” he whispered, cradling and rocking the distraught child. He felt fear, anger, uncertainty, betrayal, and love swirling around in his son, creating the destructive cocktail that had caused his explosive reaction. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night. We didn’t mean to scare you. You don’t need to be afraid. We aren’t mad.”

Syvek pulled back from him and looked up at Spock, whose face was pained. “I hate you!” He pushed himself out of Kirk’s arms and kicked Spock in the shin viciously, baring his teeth and growling as he did so. “You goddamned hobgoblin!”

“Syvek,” Kirk yelled, “don’t speak to your father that way! You know better than that.” He looked up at Spock, who was raising an eyebrow at the doctor. “Why would you say that, son?”

Syvek ignored Kirk in favor of staring at Spock, clenching his hands into fists. “You’re a meanie! Daddy loves you! Why’d you do it?”

Spock cocked his head to one side. “Do what?” he asked, lost.

Syvek whirled around to look at McCoy. “I can’t…,” he said. “Will you…?”

Groaning, the doctor dropped his head for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Well, Jim,” he began, “Syvek wanted to see Santa Claus last night, so he snuck into your room. He saw Santa, all right, but he saw Spock kissing Santa. Now he thinks you’re going to get a divorce.”

“Oh, Syvek,” Kirk sighed. “It’s okay. Father and I were playing a game. I was dressed in a Santa costume. Father was kissing me, not Santa.”

“Really?” Syvek asked with a small voice. They nodded. He wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist. “I’m sorry, Father. I don’t really hate you!”

“I apologize for causing you undue stress, my son,” Spock murmured, bending down to place a kiss on Syvek’s dark hair.

Syvek pulled away suddenly. “You were kissing Daddy?” Spock nodded. “Gross,” he said. The three men laughed while Syvek crossed his arms and marched out to return to their quarters.

“Jim,” McCoy said before he and Kirk could leave.

“Yeah?”

“You owe me big time. The kid couldn’t calm down enough to tell me what was wrong, so he melded with me. I had to watch you two humping like two pigs in heat. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.” He trailed off with a put-upon sigh.

“Syvek apparently intended to get photographic evidence last night,” Spock replied. “We found this in our quarters this morning.” He handed the holographic camera back to McCoy, whose eyes had widened comically. “Thankfully, there are no pictures of us in its memory banks.”

“You’re not the only one who’s going to have nightmares, Bones,” Kirk laughed as he and Spock exited.

McCoy sat still on his bed for a long moment after the door had slid shut before shaking his head. “Those three are going to kill me someday.”

Fic: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 2/3

2011-01-02T22:35:07Z

Title: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 2/3

Author: brown_polyester

Universe/Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17 (at times)

Relationship Status: Slash, Established (Establishing) Relationship

Word Count: 2,727, this part

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance

Tropes: kidfic

Warnings: None

Additional Pairings: Bones/OFC/OFC mentioned

Summary: More events in the life of Syvek Kirk and his parents, Jim and Spock. Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training

Disclaimer: I tried, but my bank account is too small.

Author Notes: A/N: Just so y’all know, I decided that in my universe, they had a second five-year mission right after the first. I guess Kirk refused a promotion after five years as a captain or something. I just want Syvek to grow up on a ship with all our favorite Trek characters.

Part 1.

Nine months, thirteen days old

Kirk and Bones sat in the doctor’s quarters, watching Syvek playing on the floor between them. Spock was working late to finish an experiment in one of the labs, so Kirk and Syvek were on their own for the evening. Daddy and son had decided to visit McCoy to pass the time, and Kirk had brought along Syvek’s newest toy, a shape-sorting box that Scotty had made for him earlier that week.

Syvek pushed a red wooden cube through the square-shaped opening in the box and looked up with a bright smile when he heard the cube fall to the bottom of the box. His eyes, which had gradually changed from brown to hazel over the past three months, met McCoy’s blue eyes. He held out a yellow cylinder to Bones and said, “Dada?”

The expression of horror on McCoy’s face was more than enough to send Kirk into hysterical laughter. He slid to the floor behind his son, who joined in with his daddy’s laughter, and pulled him into his arms. Pressing his lips to the infant’s temple, he raised his eyes to McCoy’s, which were still wide with disbelief.

“Oh, baby, you’re hilarious.” With a final wet kiss to his forehead, Kirk released Syvek and allowed him to continue playing.

Bones scowled down at his friend before shaking his head. “Poor kid doesn’t have a chance in this world. Got a nut job for a dad,” he grumped. “And a walking computer for a father,” he added.

“And a grouchy, curmudgeonly misanthrope for an uncle.”

McCoy laughed. “It’ll be a miracle if he can function in society.”

Syvek looked up again, smiling widely enough for McCoy to see both of his teeth poking up from his bottom jaw. He threw himself down and crawled over to the doctor, sitting at his feet and looking up hopefully. Kirk bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from saying anything too sentimental. The crawling was still fairly new, and it never failed to provoke a tiny, internal squeal from him.

When Bones simply stared down at the infant, the boy’s features morphed into a frown. He reached up at McCoy’s legs and grabbed his trousers near his knee, tugging.

“Shit!” McCoy exclaimed, jumping up and across the room, away from the hands. “Damn kid pulled my leg hair!” He leaned down to rub at his sore follicles.

“Ha! Serves you right for insulting his parents!” Kirk snorted.

Syvek, however, was not amused by the doctor’s reaction. He dropped his head and started to whimper. McCoy and Kirk turned to the baby and saw his chin resting on his chest. After a few moments, during which neither man moved, Syvek’s whimpers turned to wails. He lifted his head enough to see the two adults watching him and making no move to comfort him. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.

Kirk looked at McCoy and sighed. “Way to go, Bones. Piss off the kid.”

“What?” he asked, incredulous. “He attacked me with his tiny Vulcan fingers!”

Kirk winced as the cries intensified in volume, making his ears ring. “That can’t sound good to him.”

Syvek’s face was flushed a deep green, and he threw his head back to cry even louder. He brought his fists up to rub at his wet eyes as his breath shuddered uncontrollably. He rolled onto his stomach and looked up at Kirk, whining piteously.

Kirk glanced at McCoy. “If I pick him up, he’s going to learn that all he has to do to get attention is throw a fit, right?”

Bones’s response was part shrug, part nod. He knew better than to interfere with Spock’s Vulcan parenting style. “He’s your kid, not mine. Why’s he crying?”

Kirk sighed before regarding his crying son lying on the floor a meter away. “He’s just mad that he didn’t get picked up.”

Both men rolled their eyes and sighed in exasperation, but only McCoy was surprised when Syvek’s eyes narrowed at the sound. A new, reinvigorated wail punctured the air, slightly muffled when Syvek rested his head on the carpet.

“Got anything good to drink?” Kirk deadpanned, suddenly sounding exhausted.

Suddenly the door to McCoy’s quarters swished open, startling and silencing all three occupants. Spock strode into the room, a picture of deathly calm that only a Vulcan could pull off so perfectly.

Without a word, he picked up Syvek, whose expression could only have been smugger if he had been able to stick out his tongue. Visible above Spock’s shoulder, Syvek’s flashing eyes were again narrowed, this time in a frown, and his lips were set in an accusatory pout.

Spock turned and leveled a cold glare at Kirk, clearly admonishing him for, what Spock seemed to believe was, being cruel and uncaring to their son. His silent rebuke also held a hint of a dare, as if he hoped Kirk would say something to defend his actions so that he would be free to share his own thoughts on the situation.

McCoy watched Kirk’s eyes twitch as they stared into Spock’s. Ever since the two men had bonded, it amazed him that he had so much trouble guessing what his friend was trying to tell Spock nonverbally. Spock, on the other hand, was shockingly easy to read when he was angry. Jim, it seemed, was excelling at communicating through his and Spock’s link.

Leaning forward to catch a better view of Kirk’s face, Bones thought he saw irritation at Spock for confronting him in front of someone else, if you could call a telepathic disagreement a confrontation, as well as a promise to discuss it with him later.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “How about I just leave you three here to talk this out?” When there was no response and neither man looked away from the other, he started to sidle around the room toward the door. He was not even a meter from the door when a Vulcan arm shot out and blocked his path.

“You need not leave, Doctor. My son and I will be returning to our quarters.”

McCoy shivered at the ice in Spock’s tone and watched the two resident hobgoblins retreat down the corridor. He shifted awkwardly before turning to Kirk.

“So…,” he began uncomfortably, “still thirsty?”

Two years, six days old

Syvek was sitting at the table in his quarters with Chekov and working on a board puzzle he’d gotten for his birthday. It consisted of wooden letters of the English alphabet that were supposed to be placed in the correct order.

“Did you know that puzzles were inwented in Russia?”

“Weally?” Syvek asked excitedly. He looked closely at the puzzle piece in his hand, a green letter D. “Is that where I getted this one?”

Chekov frowned. “No, no. Not this puzzle.”

Syvek considered the comment. “Then what puzzle?”

“Well,” he said, unsure how to explain, “all puzzles.”

“No,” Syvek replied, setting down the D in favor of putting his hand on his hip. “Not all puzzles. Not this one.”

The young man sighed. “Newermind. Maybe I can find you a puzzle from Russia someday.”

There was only one word to describe the expression on Syvek’s small face at that moment: skeptical. It was certainly a strange look to see on a 2-year-old’s face. Almost immediately, it morphed into a much more familiar look: impatient anticipation.

“Pavel?” he asked urgently.

“Yes, Sywek?”

“I gotta go potty!”

“Oh! Okay…” He faltered. “Do… Should I comm your daddy?”

“No, I gotta go now!” Syvek emphasized his words by standing, holding his crotch with his hands, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Do you need help?” The ensign wasn’t trained to deal with this particular situation.

“No…,” the toddler whined piteously.

“Then go!”

He took off for the restroom with Chekov following behind to supervise. Chekov watched as Syvek pulled a small stool out from behind the toilet and set it in front of the bowl. He stepped onto the stool, pushed down his pants and training pants in one swift movement, and held his shirt up with both hands on his belly.

Chekov looked away while he listened to the steady stream of liquid flowing into liquid. When the sound stopped, he looked over to Syvek just in time to see the boy put his hand on his penis.

“Shake-a shake,” the child sang softly, shaking his penis to get rid of any lingering droplets. Chekov muffled a snicker with the back of his hand before Syvek could notice his amusement. He wasn’t sure how he was going to wait until the end of Captain Kirk’s shift to tell Sulu.

Four years, one month, and eleven days old

“Lootennit Ohura?” Syvek said quietly, approaching Uhura’s chair.

“Yes, darling?” she responded, warmed as always at the boy’s pronunciation of her name.

“’m tired.” His voice had a strong edge of fatigue to it, and when she looked more closely at his face, she noticed his eyes drooping.

Concerned, she looked at the chronometer and frowned. It was 1013, too late for him to be groggy from waking that morning yet too early for him to require a nap.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” She put her arm around his waist and drew him closer to where she sat. Placing her lips on his forehead, she tried to gauge his temperature before realizing that his body temperature was unfamiliar to her. In fact, she wasn’t sure what his baseline temperature was or what constituted a fever.

“I dunno,” he murmured sleepily, leaning against her.

“Does your tummy hurt?”

Syvek sighed as her sweet, lyrical voice flowed over him. “I dunno.”

Uhura picked him up and carried him to sickbay, handing him to Nurse Chapel before comming the bridge. “Uhura to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here. What is it, Lieutenant?” He sounded worried, likely due to his awareness that she was currently responsible for Syvek’s supervision. Now that Syvek was four years old, Spock and Kirk had allowed their shifts to coincide again, leaving Syvek in the care of various crewmembers as he began a formal education.

“I brought Syvek to sickbay, sir. He isn’t feeling well. Dr. McCoy is examining him as we speak.”

“I told you!” Kirk huffed.

“Captain?” she asked, bewildered.

“Not you, Uhura. I’m talking to Spock. I knew something felt wrong.” Uhura heard a deep response that was too quiet to carry through the intercom clearly. “All right, we’re on our way.”

Syvek’s father and dad entered sickbay to find Uhura standing beside Syvek’s biobed. The boy looked half-asleep as he lay upon on the bed, but when he felt his parents’ entrance, he sat up swiftly and held his arms out for a hug.

Kirk gathered his son in his arms, smiling softly despite Syvek’s misery. He couldn’t help but enjoy the times when the child wanted to cuddle. They were rare now that he was getting older. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“’m sick.”

Yeah, Kirk thought when the kid didn’t protest his use of the pet name, he’s miserable.

“Jim, move it.”

Kirk pulled away to give Bones access to his patient. He felt Spock’s fingers brush his and inhaled quietly through his nose. “What’s wrong with him, Bones?”

“Other than his daddy smothering him and getting in my way? Just a bit of stomach flu,” McCoy answered. “Slight fever. Syvek’s baseline temperature is 34.5 degrees, and he’s at 35.6 right now.” He tipped Syvek’s head up with a finger under his chin and made eye contact. “I need to look at your throat, buddy,” he explained softly, using his “pediatrician” voice. “Open up, and say, ‘Ah.’”

Syvek opened his mouth and took a deep breath, but the only sound that came out of him was retching.

Kirk bit his lips hard enough to make his eyes water in an attempt to keep from laughing at the look on McCoy’s face when his friend tensed up, suddenly covered in partially digested Plomeek soup. Nurse Chapel immediately ran to get a glass of water for Syvek (though McCoy would’ve preferred her priority to be a towel for him), and Uhura stepped closer to the bed to rub her hand on the small, hunched back.

“I’ve got to say,” Kirk snickered, still trying to contain his mirth at Bones’s facial expression, “that I’m glad you moved me out of your way when you did, Bones.”

“Damn it, Jim,” the doctor spluttered, soft voice gone. “It’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry,” a tiny voice said between shuddering breaths. Tears started to fall from Syvek’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Bones. I dinnit mean to,” he sobbed.

“Oh, Syvek,” Kirk said sympathetically. He carefully stepped around his unclean friend and wrapped his arms around his crying son. “He’s not mad at you! He’s just being cranky. Trust me; puke isn’t the worst thing he’s been covered in.” The doe eyes he’d had seconds before disappeared when he looked up at McCoy. They were full of mischief.

“Really?” Syvek asked timidly, raising his eyes to McCoy’s and still breathing unsteadily. Nurse Chapel returned with his glass of water, as well as an empty bag for any further vomit.

“Yeah, kid,” he sighed. “Don’t worry about it. It washes right off.” His gentle tone of voice had returned. “Actually, your daddy peed on me once.” He shot a smug smile at Kirk while both Spock’s and Syvek’s heads whirled to stare at Kirk.

He glared at McCoy. “You promised never to tell anyone about that!” His turned his head to look at Spock. “I was drunk! Shore leave during the first year of our mission. He was carrying me back to my room.”

Uhura snickered against the back of her hand, prompting the captain to sit up straight.

“That does not leave this room,” he ordered. He then stood and picked up his son. “Let’s go back to our quarters, kiddo. We’ll lie down and read a story or two.”

“Whaddabou th'ship?” Syvek asked, at least half asleep. He only slurred easy words when he was utterly exhausted.

“Father will take over so I can stay with you.” His eyes met Spock’s over Syvek’s head, seeking agreement, which he found in a slight nod.

“No!” Syvek’s hand shot out and grabbed Spock’s bicep. “You stay too?” His hazel eyes begged Spock to acquiesce. “Please?”

“Very well,” Spock agreed with a small, reassuring smile. “Mr. Scott can manage for the remainder of the shift.” The small family exited sickbay, leaving Bones behind, still standing beside the biobed, still covered in vomit.

Four years, two months, nine days

Syvek set down his fork and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin before saying, “Daddy, what does the term ‘kinky’ mean?”

Kirk coughed and dropped his spoon to reach for his drink. He met Spock’s narrowed eyes over the dinner table while his thoughts ran at full speed to figure out how to answer the question. “Um,” he croaked, “where did you hear that word?”

“Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov said it at lunch today.” Syvek didn’t notice Kirk’s eye twitch in annoyance.

“What was the context, Syvek?” Spock asked.

“Ensign Chekov was drinking a strange beverage that reminded me of when I was sick last month, so I told them about it.” He looked at the ceiling and thought back to earlier that day. “It must not have been very good because he stopped drinking it after my story… Anyway, I told them about how I got upset when Bones yelled and how Daddy made me feel better. Lootinnit Sulu said, ‘Kinky,’ when I told them that Daddy peed on Bones a long time ago.”

Kirk sighed and covered his eyes with a hand. “That wasn’t supposed to leave the room,” he moaned.

“I do not know what that means,” Syvek stated, tilting his head and frowning.

“It means that it is a secret and that you should not tell anyone who was not present in the room at that moment,” Spock supplied, amused at the pink tint of his husband’s face.

“Oh…” Syvek pursed his lips and continued frowning as he considered this new information. “Would it not be more logical to state such instructions more plainly?”

“I believe it would, Syvek,” Spock agreed, “but your daddy operates on a separate level of logic than we do.”

Part 3.

Fic: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 1/3

2011-01-02T22:31:03Z

Title: The Continuing Education of Syvek Leonard Kirk, 1/3

Author: brown_polyester

Universe/Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17 (at times)

Relationship Status: Slash, Established (Establishing) Relationship

Word Count: 3,301, this part

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Romance

Tropes: kidfic

Warnings: None

Additional Pairings: Bones/OFC/OFC mentioned

Summary: More events in the life of Syvek Kirk and his parents, Jim and Spock. Sequel to Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training

Disclaimer: I tried, but my bank account is too small.

Author Notes: A/N: Just so y’all know, I decided that in my universe, they had a second five-year mission right after the first. I guess Kirk refused a promotion after five years as a captain or something. I just want Syvek to grow up on a ship with all our favorite Trek characters.

Two days old

“Jim, please refrain from allowing your destructive emotions to run unchecked while you are in contact with Syvek’s skin.”

Kirk turned to glare at Spock. “Destructive… emotions…” he repeated slowly, tone cold and deathly calm. His eyes flashed dangerously as he placed their crying, diaper-clad son back in his bouncer seat and tucked a blanket around him. “To what ‘destructive emotions…’ are you referring?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I was merely referring to your quite obvious apprehension. When you are in skin-to-skin contact with a touch telepath, your emotional state can transfer to the telepath.” Kirk’s countenance was unchanged, though Spock was unsure as to why.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Perhaps,” he offered, “you should clothe yourself.”

Kirk looked down at his bare chest, allowing himself a moment of smug pride at its smoothness. “Since when has my nudity upset you?” His tone was still icy.

Spock felt his face grow hotter. “My suggestion is not intended to imply a lack of satisfaction with or appreciation of your aesthetically pleasing person,” and damn, he wouldn’t have said that a week ago, “but rather to propose a lessening of skin contact.”

“If you’re so calm, why don’t you give him a bath? You’re the goddamned Father of the Year!”

Syvek wailed louder, presumably disturbed by Kirk’s increasing volume.

“I will again request that you cease using such terminology when you are near our son, Captain.” The frost in his voice was even more pronounced than it had been in Kirk’s words seconds before.

Kirk’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he took several deep, calming breaths before he next spoke. “Spock, I apologize for my harsh words, but I implore you to attempt to understand my nervousness. I find this task daunting, and I would appreciate your support.” He broke eye contact and went to their son, who sat hiccupping in his seat on the countertop. Running a soothing finger down the round cheek, he murmured affectionately, “I am sorry, Syvek. Please don’t cry.” He picked him up and held him close.

Something broke inside Spock, and he went to his family. Stepping up to Kirk so that Syvek, still breathing shuddering breaths as he felt his parents’ calm wash over him, was between them, Spock wrapped a hand around the back of Kirk’s neck and drew him close for a tender kiss.

“I, too, apologize, and I admit that my agitation with you is misdirected irritation with myself at my own fears and insecurities regarding the proper care of our baby. Please do not interpret it as a lack of confidence in your own abilities. I have the utmost faith in your ability to provide nurturing of both a physical and an emotional nature.”

“Good God, Spock,” Kirk breathed with his eyes closed. “Whoever said that Vulcans aren’t compassionate or romantic was full of sh-… uh, full of… was wrong.” He let his lips graze Spock’s once before pulling away and saying, “Let’s do this together.”

Eight days old

“Ok, Spock,” Kirk started, as he reentered their quarters after putting Syvek down for a nap, “he’s asleep. For the first time in eight days, I don’t feel as if I’m about to keel over with exhaustion, and neither of us is required to report for duty for the remainder of the day. I demand that you show me your retractable penis. Now.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, watching Kirk saunter across the room toward the desk where he was seated. “Is that an order?”

“Does it need to be?” Kirk retorted. He leaned across the desk and kissed Spock on the tip of his nose. “You gonna strip, or do I have to do it for you?”

“Jim, I am nearly finished reviewing the daily reports of the Science Department crew. I request that you delay your quest for sexual gratification for 6.39 minutes.”

“Pfft. I guess that’s the latter option.” He rounded the desk and dropped to his knees.

Although Spock was determined not to react, the hands at his belt buckle started to affect him. Kirk was nuzzling his inner thigh, and he could feel hot breath warming the skin under his trousers.

“Jim,” he groaned. After clearing his throat, he tried again. “Jim.” Much better. “I ask that you please cease your actions. A continuation will only serve to increase the amount of time I require to complete the review of these reports.”

Despite the use of professional terms, Kirk heard a slight waver in his tone. It wasn’t much, but it let him know that he wasn’t doing anything to which Spock did not consent. Therefore, his response was to open Spock’s pants as quickly as possible and yank them down to his knees.

“I’m afraid that stopping is quite out of the question, Mr. Spock. You see, the baby could wake up at any time, and I really need to examine you. I’ve been sleeping beside you for over a week, and we haven’t had any sexual contact since that day on Ganymede Zeus.”

He pulled at Spock’s briefs, expecting to see a larger version of Syvek’s penile orifice, but that was not the case. Instead, he found himself face to face with Spock’s erection. “Uh… retractable?” He looked up at Spock, meeting a formal and tense façade.

“If you would refrain from touching my person before removing my clothing, you would be able to view my penis in its relaxed state.”

Kirk’s grin took up his entire face. “You’re going to give me an inflated ego.”

“James Kirk with an ego? I can scarcely imagine such a mythical creature,” Spock replied dryly.

Unable to come up with a quick response and unwilling to take much time, Kirk decided to end the conversation by running his tongue from the base of Spock’s penis to the tip.

There were several interesting characteristics he observed in this erection that differed from his own. Of course, it was green. (Obviously, a concentration of blood in any bodily extremity would affect the coloration of that extremity.) Kirk was somewhat surprised at the shade of green. It was really quite unattractive, sort of a pukey-green color.

“Jim, you realize that Vulcans are touch telepaths, no?” He nodded. “Do you realize you are touching me?”

Kirk snorted. “Uh, yeah?” He gave a slight tug on Spock’s erection to illustrate the obvious.

“You are in contact with a touch telepath, and your current emotions seem to be centered on a general dislike, which I can only assume is aimed at my genitalia.”

“No! It’s not "dislike" of your dick! It’s the color. That’s not really what I would consider to be an especially pleasing shade of green. I figured it’d be closer in color to your blood than to… baby poop.”

Spock stood, reports now forgotten, and pulled Jim up before guiding him to the bed. He removed the remainder of his clothing before attacking Kirk’s. When both were naked, Spock straddled Kirk’s thighs and gave his erection a single stroke. “And yours?” he questioned.

“Huh?” Kirk asked dumbly while his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Describe its color.”

“It’s, ah, dark reddish?”

“Oxygenated human blood is red, and deoxygenated is dark red. Any amount of either shade mixed with the other results in what most humans consider a generally pleasing color. Oxygenated Vulcan blood is green; deoxygenated is orange. Humans tend to find a mixture of these two colors unpleasant.”

Kirk’s hips were thrusting in time with Spock’s maddeningly light caresses of two fingers on his erection. He reached out his hand and grasped Spock’s neglected cock, and he was rewarded with a whine from deep within Spock’s throat.

“Well, color preferences aside,” Kirk panted, “I find your dick most pleasing.”

“I am… gratified… to hear that…”

“I want to suck you off,” Kirk rasped.

“Pardon?” asked Spock, stalling in his movements. Kirk took the opportunity to roll them over and slide down Spock’s body.

“I’m going to suck your cock until you get off.” The tip of his tongue drew a thin line around Spock’s corona.

Spock inhaled, shuddering breath belying his cool tone when he said, “I am afraid,” there was a gasp and then, “I do not understand your colloquial speech.”

Sighing, Kirk withdrew his tongue and settled for nuzzling the warm flesh with his nose and check. Spock savored the sensation of his lover’s 1700-hour-shadow prickling his sensitive skin.

“Ok, I am going to orally stimulate your genitals until you achieve orgasm.” And with that, he slid his mouth over the end of Spock’s smooth erection.

“Oh,” Spock breathe-groaned.

Kirk continued his examination of Spock’s body. His penis was slightly shorter than Kirk’s own and a bit thinner. Because Vulcan body temperature was 91° Fahrenheit, he’d expected the erection in his mouth to feel colder than it did, but as he considered the warmth, he realized that the fact that Spock’s penis was usually stored within his body meant that it made sense for it to be warmer than a human’s, which was external.

Perhaps the internal storage also accounted for the incredible softness of the skin. There was no friction, or “undue stimulation,” as Spock had put it, within the body, at least nothing like what his human penis encountered, coming into contact with underwear, trousers, sheets… depending on the occasion.

Its shape was nearly identical to a human’s, though there was no foreskin. There was still a distinct head and ridge, as well as an orifice through which urine and semen were expelled (hopefully not at the same time).

“The ‘head,’ as you term it, is an evolutionary characteristic. The so-called ‘ridge,’ or corona glandis, has been observed to scoop out semen that is already within a vagina. Thus the male who is the last to copulate with a woman in a multiple partner situation has the greatest chance of fertilizing his female partner.”

Mouth wide open, disbelieving eyes in a similar shape, Kirk blinked. “Good to know.” With a slight shake of his head, he went back to work.

He dragged his closed lips up and down Spock’s erection, exhaling hot breath through his nose. From the base, he ran the rough, flat part of his tongue along the underside. When he reached the tip, he slid his mouth around the erection and took in as much as he could, then wrapped his fingers around the rest.

At the head of the bed, Spock’s breathing started to stutter. Kirk swallowed around his mouthful, and a small noise escaped Spock, a cross between a whine and a hum. Kirk hummed happily, proud of himself for eliciting even that tiny reaction from the super-Vulcan man below him. His fingers began to squeeze the base of Spock’s dick rhythmically, and he used the back of his tongue to tease the head. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Spock’s knees bend, muscles clenching with tension. When Spock’s toes curled, Kirk delivered the coups de grace. The thumb on his free hand reached down from its position on Spock’s thigh to caress his balls. Only…

Surprised, he released Spock’s erection from both his hand and his mouth. Spock’s eyes flew open, clouded with lust and confusion, and he expelled his breath in a loud burst that ended with an angry groan. He fixed Kirk with a glare that would’ve killed a lesser man, demanding an explanation.

“Where’re your balls!?” cried Kirk, distressed.

Spock closed his eyes to gather his wits. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he growled, “Inside,” before grabbing Kirk by his shoulders and pulling him back down to his throbbing penis.

Kirk wrapped his lips around Spock’s erection once again and hummed in amusement at Spock’s frantic reaction. The vibrations from the hum were enough to tip Spock over the edge. He bucked his hips wildly, and no amount of strength Kirk employed to hold them down was enough. Kirk backed off, removing his mouth to prevent gagging and replacing it with both hands. He pulled on Spock’s cock, coaxing up, up, up, switching hands when one reached the end. An added twist at the tip had Spock crying out, “Jim!” and stilling all movement, as if his body couldn’t maintain the level of energy it needed to orgasm and thrust his hips.

Finally, after nearly one full minute, Spock collapsed on the bed, breathing as if he’d just spent his entire life running. Every few seconds, his body would shudder through an aftershock.

“Holy hell,” Kirk whispered, and Spock’s eyes opened just enough to see Kirk’s face. “Do all Vulcan orgasms last that long?”

“I have no basis of comparison.”

Brown eyes closed again. His entire face, his whole body was relaxed. He looked completely sated. He looked good enough to eat. Again. Kirk touched his finger to a warm spot of come that had landed on Spock’s stomach then touched it to his tongue, testing the flavor. It wasn’t delicious (it was come, after all), but the taste was very slight. It was acceptable.

“Maybe,” he started, silently enjoying the husky sound of his own voice, “I’ll swallow next time. If you can control your hips, that is.”

“Control of my physical body was not foremost in my mind at the time of climax.”

“No?” Kirk asked, amused. “What was?”

He inhaled deeply and sighed, “Nothing.”

Kirk moved up to plaster himself along Spock’s side and placed his lips by Spock’s ear. “Here’s something to occupy your thoughts,” he purred as he undulated his hips to press his erection against Spock’s side just above his hip.

A low grunt escaped Spock’s throat just as… a loud cry penetrated the air.

“No!” Kirk cried in dismay. He faked a solo into the pillow when Spock rolled out from under him. “Get back here! Let him cry for a few minutes. I promise that’s all the time it’ll take.” His vow was punctuated by a shallow thrust against their mattress.

“As I understood it,” Spock began, pulling on his pants over the briefs he had already donned, “the purpose of this exercise was for you to familiarize yourself with my sexual physiology, not for your own gratification. Perhaps you should be clearer in the future or maybe even heed my initial protests. Then I might be more likely to reciprocate your actions.” With that, he started toward Syvek’s room.

But before he could make it through the bathroom, he heard Kirk yell, “Cocktease!”

One month, one day old

Spock stood beside the biobed in sickbay with a hand resting on Kirk’s shoulder. Syvek, resting in Kirk’s arms, was happily gumming a warm human finger, causing drool to fall in heavy strands down his chin.

“Well, hello, Syvek!” McCoy greeted as he stepped up to the exam bed. “Jim, Spock, how are things?”

“Pretty good,” Kirk answered. “He’s sleeping a lot better now, so Spock and I have finally been able to spend some quality time together… Naked.”

“Jim!” Spock cried.

“Good God, man,” McCoy groaned. “Please spare me the insights to your personal life. I just want to know about the kid.”

He smirked at the annoyed look on Bones’s face and the admonishment on Spock’s. “All right, just the kid.”

“First thing I want to do is weigh and measure him. I’ve been in touch with Spock’s mother, and she has provided me with copies of his developmental records. It is my hope that Spock’s developmental pace will serve as a better comparison to Syvek’s than that of a full-blooded human or Vulcan.”

“That is surprisingly logical of you, Doctor.” Spock almost sounded impressed.

Kirk was amused when Bones seemed embarrassed by Spock’s praise, and he held out the infant when McCoy gestured for him. He and Spock watched as the doctor weighed and measured their son, finally announcing that he seemed to be slightly above average for a Vulcan, significantly below average for a human, and “just about right for a green-blooded Kirk-goblin.”

Bones updated the infant’s immunizations, which took a lot longer with a baby who’d be growing up all across the galaxy than it would have on Earth. He examined the belly button to see that the umbilical cord had fallen off and to check for any signs of infection. Syvek’s eyes and ears were next, and McCoy announced that they were developing normally.

He handed the infant back to Kirk and smiled to himself when Spock was drawn even closer to his captain. “Okay, you might want to have a seat now, Spock,” McCoy said, pulling up a chair of his own. “It’s question time.”

He asked a number of questions about how Syvek was sleeping and for how long, about his eating habits, about his behavior, and about his development. He needed to know if Syvek was getting tummy time and whether or not he was able to hold up his head. After several minutes of questions, he allowed the men to ask questions of their own.

“Is he telepathic?” Kirk asked.

Spock tilted his head and looked at him. “Jim, you know that he can sense our emotions. Certainly you recall how affected he has been in the past by our own levels of stress.”

“Well, okay, but what does he feel from us? I mean, does he feel exactly what we feel?” There was a tension underlying Kirk’s casual queries, but Bones was unable to identify its source. Kirk seemed to want to ask a doorknob question.

“I can tell you that his vision has improved vastly since birth. Newborns have fairly fuzzy vision because they haven’t learned how to focus their eyes. Now instead of just light, shapes, and movement, he can see things that are further away. For example, a month ago he would’ve been able to make out some of the details of your face, Jim, but now he can see my beautiful smile.” McCoy shot a quick frown at Kirk, who had snorted at his last comment. “I imagine that his telepathic abilities are developing in a similar way. As a newborn, he could feel general impressions of positive or negative emotions, but he is now starting to identify some nuances between things such as fear and anger.”

Spock’s eyebrows rose. “I am surprised by your insights, Doctor McCoy. You seem to have studied Vulcan development.”

Bones scowled. “Of course I did, Spock! I have a new patient whose biological development differs from that of my other patients. It would be quite irresponsible to ignore the need for further understanding.”

“Calm down, Bones. Spock’s compliments are few and far between. Enjoy them when they happen. He doesn’t mean to be offensive.”

“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock agreed, “I find you are placing an undue emotional connotation to my words. Perhaps you should spend some time reviewing Vulcan beliefs and practices before you assume that my comments have any emotional bearing.”

“Well, so much for compliments…,” he muttered. “Jim, we’ll need to make sure the kid gets some amount of instruction in the emotional arts. Wouldn’t want Syvek to grow up into a heartless computer like his father.”

“What I want to know,” Kirk intervened sharply, “is whether or not he can sense things that might be going on in the next room.”

McCoy considered the question before asking, “Things? Such as…?”

Kirk looked uncomfortable. “I… The thing is… Does he know when Spock and I are… you know… engaged in a… discussion… of sorts.” McCoy’s uncomprehending eyes did not change. “Can he tell if we’re having sex?” Kirk asked quickly.

Spock’s disapproving glare was undermined by Syvek’s sudden sneeze, which was followed by a giggle when the baby saw the look of disgust on his daddy’s snot-covered face.

“I hate you guys,” Bones spluttered, ignoring Kirk’s question and stalking to his office.

Part 2.

Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training, Part 2

2010-12-09T04:43:24Z

Title: Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training, Part 2

Author: brown_polyester

Universe/Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17 (at times)

Relationship Status: Slash, First Time

Word Count: 3,588, this part

Genre: Humor, Fluff

Tropes: kidfic, amtdi

Warnings: None

Additional Pairings: None

Summary: When Kirk and Spock end up on a planet with an entirely male population, they wonder how the men manage to procreate. Then they find out.

Disclaimer: I tried, but my bank account is too small.

Author Notes: I LOVE kidfic, but I could do without Mpreg. So I came up with a way for Kirk and Spock to have a biological child without forcing one of them to take a feminine role in a same-sex relationship.

1 month old

“Pbbbt.”

Spock paused in writing his report to attempt to identify the strange sound he’d heard emanating from the bathroom. He listened. There was a large, noisy intake of breath and then, “Pbbbbbbbbt,” followed by a small laugh. Curious, he stood and went to the door. He watched Kirk inhale and bend over to press his lips to Syvek’s bare abdomen where he laid on the changing table. Kirk then exhaled, buzzing his lips on the infant’s belly and eliciting a loud giggle.

“Jim?”

Kirk straightened and turned to Spock with a huge grin on his face.

“Hey! Isn’t his laugh adorable?” He turned back to Syvek and cooed, “Yes it is! Your laugh is so cute!” He leaned down and touched their noses together, laughing when his son grabbed at his nose.

“What is the purpose of such an action on your port, Jim?”

Kirk shrugged. “I just like to see him smile. And it’s easier to change a happy baby’s diaper.” He handed Syvek to Spock and washed his hands, meeting Spock’s eyes in the mirror and saying, “It’s time for me to get to work.” After drying, he kissed both of his boys and strode out of the rooms.

...........

Kirk entered his quarters after his shift to relieve Spock and send him to his own shift. When they had decided to adjust the schedule to allow them to work different shifts, Kirk had offset the science station shift rotation by 15 minutes to allow himself time to get to his quarters to take Syvek from Spock and to allow Spock to get to the bridge.

He entered quietly, unsure whether or not Syvek would be sleeping, but instead of encountering Spock and their baby, he found the room empty.

He turned toward the bathroom just as a high-pitched squeal pierced the air, coming from the direction of the bathroom. When he reached the door and looked in, he had to grin to himself.

“Pbbbbt.”

It seemed that Spock also enjoyed hearing their boy laugh.

3 months old

“Bones, this book says he should be rolling over by three months, but he isn’t! What’s wrong with him?”

McCoy groaned. The chronometer glowing in his room read 2:31. He glared accusatorily at the intercom that had woken him. “Jim, why the hell are you calling me at 2:31? No, better yet, why are you testing Syvek’s development at 2:31?”

“Oh God, you’re deflecting! Spock! Why is he deflecting? Bones, what the hell is wrong with my baby? Is he paralyzed? Oh shit, his heart is racing!” Kirk had passed “hysterical” and was heading for “anxiety attack.”

Bones sat up. “Spock? Are you there? Why are you letting him call me at this hour with these questions?”

Spock’s cool voice replied, “Doctor, I believe Jim is somewhat delirious from lack of sleep.”

“Seriously? Why are you both awake?”

“It is interesting that you should ask, Dr. McCoy. Jim insists that we both rise and attend to Syvek every time he awakens during the night.” Spock’s formal tone hinted at exactly what his opinion was on the subject. “It seems to be necessary to inform you yet again, Jim, that Syvek’s heart rate is well within the normal limits of his Vulcan biology.”

“Jim,” the doctor sighed, “go to sleep. Your kid is fine. Three months is a general estimate, not a finish line. All babies are different. Let Spock deal with the kid at night; you know he doesn’t need as much sleep as you do. Oh, and let me sleep at night, too, will you?”

4 months old

A warm tongue was working its way down Kirk’s body. It twisted and swirled upon the skin above his sternum, zigzagged across his abdomen, lapped at his navel. There was a soft nip at his left hip and warm breath on his erection. His hands fell to Spock’s shoulders, and he shuddered as he felt them begin to lower.

A sudden cry pierced the air, and Kirk found himself jerking awake with a gasp Spock laid at his side, still dozing. The baby monitor, which was set up on Kirk’s nightstand, was blaring in Kirk’s ear.

Annoyed that Spock was sleeping through this (he glanced at the clock and groaned) 3:14 am wake up call, he set the monitor on the pillow by Spock’s ear and maxed the volume.

Spock shot up, startled out of his sleep.

“You go see what’s wrong,” Kirk ordered. “I was about to have a sex dream.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, as Kirk rolled over and pouted.

5 months old

“Captain Kirk to Bridge.” Kirk’s tone of voice verged on panicked, almost desperate.

Spock hit the button on the captain’s chair intercom unit. “Spock here.”

“Oh thank god you’re there.” His voice was accompanied by the grating sound of a crying infant. “I can’t get your child to stop crying!”

“Jim,” Spock sighed, “as I have explained before, it is most illogical to deny your own claim to parenthood when you are emotionally compromised. The fact that our son is crying does not make him any less yours. It might make him more yours than mine.”

Spock’s eyes travelled around the bridge to glare at any crewmembers whose snickers hadn’t been muffled well enough to escape the Vulcan’s superior hearing.

Kirk sighed. “I know that, Spock. But I’ve been down here for 3 hours, one of which has been spent trying to make this thing be quiet! He’s driving me crazy!”

“Captain, this is not the proper place to have this discussion, and there is not likely to be anything I could do that would yield different results. I suggest you take the child to Dr. McCoy if you think he is unwell.” Spock’s tone was final, and he punctuated his suggestion by ending the link.

He had barely removed his hand when the unit flared back to life.

“Spock! Don’t you hang up on me!”

The XO clenched his jaw. “Is there something you require, Captain?”

“I already took him to McCoy. He said nothing was wrong.”

“I thank you for the update. Will that be all?”

Spock’s cold tone was starting to grate on Kirk’s nerves. He transferred Syvek to his other hip, wincing as the boy let out a particularly loud screech. “No, that will not be all! He won’t. Shut. Up!”

“Quite an irritating characteristic, no doubt,” Spock replied in a clipped tone. “Have you attempted to feed him?”

“Yes,” Kirk answered, rolling his eyes. “He’s already eaten.”

“Have you changed him?”

“Yes.”

“Have you put him down to sleep?”

“Yes! I’m not a damned fool, Spock! I rocked him; I sang to him;” – and here Kirk ignored the involuntary snort that had filtered from Spock’s end of the link to his – “I read to him; I played with him; I bounced him up and down; I swung him around; I – “

“Jim!” Spock interrupted, stopping the hysterical tirade.

“What?!”

Syvek still cried in the background.

“How did you rock him?”

“What? On the rocking chair…?”

“In what position did you hold him?”

“I tried cradling him in my arms, holding him on my lap, and holding him against my shoulder. He screamed the whole time. Why does it matter?”

“Try holding him upright upon your lap, facing you.”

There was some angry mumbling and shuffling as Kirk made his way to the rocking chair. Spock waited a few moments, listening to the hushed sounds of the bridge.

“Jim?”

“It worked!” Jim exclaimed. “Hey, buddy! Look at that smile! You look so happy now,” he cooed. “Do you like sitting like this? Aren’t you glad I figured it out? Your daddy is so smart!”

Spock’s eyes flicked to the ceiling in his approximation of a human’s eye roll as he ended the transmission again.

16 months old

“Zizzizz gubult,” said Syvek, nodding.

“Is that so? Where did you hear that?” Kirk asked, interested.

“Ummmm, azzizuz wuzhabuzh.”

“Hmm, that’s not a very neutral source. Almost sounds like something from Fox Intergalactic News.”

“Dabbab. Doo. Gub,” was the sage reply.

“Now that’s a point I’ve never considered.”

“Wuzzabub.”

The sound of a throat clearing brought both Kirks’ attention to the presence of Spock, whose curious eyebrow seemed to suggest that he’d been listening for a little while.

“Hey, we’re just about done,” Kirk told him. “Right buddy?” he asked Syvek.

“Umm, wubbuh zuggle,” the baby said seriously.

Kirk picked him up from the changing table in their bathroom and carried him toward the door. He stopped in front of Spock and gave him a quick peck.

Noting the slight furrow in his lover’s brow, Kirk explained his and Syvek’s conversation to Spock with a simple, “Meaningless conversation. Just an illogical human behavior,” before leaving the bathroom, laughing.

20 months old

“Is your diaper wet, Syvek?” Kirk asked as he and Spock prepared to take their son to the officer’s mess for lunch.

“No,” was the quiet reply.

“Is it stinky?”

“No.”

“Right…” he said, approaching the toddler. He felt the kid’s diaper, finding it somewhat squishy. He sighed and picked him up. As he passed him to Spock, he said, “Change him, will you?”

“Very well.”

Laying the child on the changing table in the bathroom, Spock attempted to understand the rationale behind their son’s lie.

“Syvek,” he started, discarding the wet diaper in the garbage chute, “do you enjoy the sensation of sitting in your own waste?” Syvek blinked, and Spock rephrased his question. “Does a wet diaper feel good?”

Syvek shook his head.

“Does a dry diaper feel good?”

Syvek nodded.

“Why do you not tell us when you need to be changed?” Spock lifted the boy to a standing position and pulled up his pants.

Syvek shrugged.

“Illogical,” Spock muttered as they rejoined Kirk. Syvek reached for Kirk, who pulled him into his arms.

After hugging his daddy, Syvek turned to Spock, a serious look on his little face. “Not evewyfing is lodical, Fahver.”

21 months old

Kirk sat in front of his 21-month-old baby. Syvek was in his high chair, lunch set out on his tray. He had eaten one piece of a green bean and two bites of his grilled cheese sandwich and had taken a few drinks of milk. The diced apples were untouched.

“You are the slowest eater I’ve seen in my entire life. What is wrong? I know you like this stuff.”

Syvek simply stared at him with a slight smile on his face.

Kirk gathered some apples on the boy’s spoon and brought it close to his mouth. Syvek turned his head away.

“Oh come on! Try it! They’re apples. Just like applesauce. You love apples!”

“No.” There was still something so precious about his son’s tiny voice. Kirk knew the novelty would wear off soon, especially where the “n-word” was concerned, but for now the sound of his child’s high-pitched voice never failed to melt him a little.

“Just try them!” he pleaded.

“No.”

Kirk sighed. “Are you all done?”

“No.”

Kirk was exasperated. “Then eat, for crying out loud! I know you like it! And I made it just as Father does. American cheese, wheat bread, real butter, and barely toasted on both sides.”

Spock and Kirk had decided early on that they wanted their son to eat only natural foods. As much as possible, they avoided the replicator. They would stick with canned fruits and vegetables, when fresh weren’t available, that had no preservatives. The men purchased dairy fresh and in bulk when they visited a planet that supported the proper creatures. Freezing cheese was somewhat more difficult than freezing milk, but they managed.

Keeping their son on a natural diet was costly but logical. Their parents approved strongly of the endeavor and aided them as well as they could. Spock’s mother would bake dozens of loaves of bread; his father used some of his political influence to arrange occasional deliveries to starbases near the Enterprise’s location, once to the Enterprise itself; Kirk’s mom provided the canned food and sometimes a little something extra for Kirk and Spock.

“Jim,” said Spock, interrupting his latest attempt to convince Syvek to eat more food.

“Spock! I didn’t hear you come in. Is it lunch time already?”

“It is 13:15,” Spock replied evenly. Nevertheless, Kirk wasn’t fooled. He heard the undercurrent of his tone, the unasked question of ‘Why is this happening?’

“Oh,” said Kirk. He glanced around nervously, feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes settled on Syvek, who was now looking down at his food, interested in it for the first time. He wasn’t actually eating it, but he was looking.

“May I ask why Syvek is not yet napping?”

“He won’t eat! I don’t know why. He likes green beans, apples, and grilled cheese, but he’s only had a few bites.”

“You are no doubt aware that his afternoon nap is to take place at precisely 12:30.”

“Well, he won’t eat!” Kirk hated the part of himself that felt guilty for messing up the precious schedule, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, starve his kid.

“Jim,” Spock began, softening his tone when he sensed the conflict within Kirk, “the child is quite intelligent and quite stubborn. He is delaying his nap. He will sit here for hours if he believes it will excuse him from his nap.”

Surprised, Kirk looked at Syvek. His head was ducked over his tray, but Kirk could see his grin.

“Well, I can’t put him down hungry!”

“He will eat when he wakes.”

Kirk sighed. “You try to feed him before I put him down.”

“I would first like to remind you that we had an appointment set for 1300 hours.” Taking in the blank look on Kirk’s face, he added, “In supply closet 5 on deck 3.”

Recognition dawned in Kirk’s eyes. Without a word, he pulled Syvek out of his high chair and carried him into Spock’s old quarters. He laid him down in his crib and covered him with his satiny Periodic Table blankie. Re-emerging from the adjoining bathroom, he grabbed Spock’s hand and pulled him into the corridor in the direction of the turbolift that would lead them to deck three.

25 months old

“Do you need to use the facilities before we depart?”

“No!” Syvek shouted, running toward the turbolift.

Spock caught up to him easily, using his much longer stride to his advantage. He knelt to his 2-year-old’s eye level.

“Syvek, once the shuttle embarks, you will not be able to relieve yourself for 2.3 hours. I believe that you should attempt to empty your bladder.”

“No, Fahver,” the boy sighed, almost sounding exasperated.

Spock let out a similar sigh. “Very well, son.” He held out his hand, which Syvek gripped obediently. When they entered the lift, Syvek pulled on Spock’s trousers. Spock picked him up and allowed him to hold the control lever. “Shuttle bay.”

Kirk was waiting inside the shuttle bay, overseeing the loading of their luggage. Syvek squirmed until Spock set him down, and he ran to his daddy as quickly as his chubby legs would carry him.

“Daddy!” he squealed when Kirk picked him up and swung him around.

“Hey, buddy. You about ready to go?” Syvek nodded. “Need to go potty first?” He nodded again.

“Syvek,” Spock began, “I asked you the same question 2.74 minutes ago, and your response was negative.”

“Nuh-uh!” Syvek shook his head vehemently.

“Syvek…” said Kirk in a warning tone.

“He dinnint!” the boy cried. “He’s lying!”

Spock bristled at the accusation. “Vulcans do not lie. Lying is illogical.”

“I gotta go potty,” Syvek whined, bouncing in Kirk’s grasp.

He set the child down, smiling as he watched Syvek run in the direction of the nearest head. Looking over to Spock, he saw that his lover was vaguely perturbed, the expression on his face was Spock’s equivalent of a pout. Kirk reached out his fingers and brushed them against two of Spock’s.

“I did ask,” Spock murmured.

“And I believe you, but what exactly did you say to him?”

“I asked if he needed to use the facilities, and he said, ‘No.’ I reminded him that the duration of the shuttle ride would be 2.3 hours and suggested that he attempt to empty his bladder.”

Kirk’s chuckles had grown steadily louder throughout Spock’s explanation. Spock raised an eyebrow to the captain, silently asking what was causing the reaction.

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk laughed. “If we’re ever going to get this kid potty trained, we’ve got to work on our terminology. It’s not the ‘facilities;’ it’s the potty. You can’t tell him to ‘relieve himself’ or ‘empty his bladder.’ Ask if he needs to go potty or pee or poop. The word ‘urinate,’ or any of its cognates, will not work for a 2-year-old. And don’t try 'defecate,' 'excrement,' 'stool,' 'waste,' or anything else like that. Stick to short words that he can actually pronounce.” Spock continued to regard him silently, eyebrow still raised. Kirk smiled. “Trust me.”

Spock sighed. “Very well, Jim.”

Syvek came running back to his parents. “All done! Let’s go!”

Spock offered the child a small smile. “Did you wash your hands?”

The boy hesitated. “Yes.”

Kirk grabbed the small hands and found them completely dry. “Go wash your hands.”

2 years, 9 months, 14 days old

“Syvek, please remain seated while I refill your glass.” Spock eyed his son before heading across the mess hall to retrieve another glass of milk. Kirk was planet side on Shentai II with a medical away team, aiding with the CMO’s treatment of Fardonian chrysothanium poisoning victims, so Spock and Syvek were spending the day together.

After spending half an hour that morning in the ship’s pool attempting to teach the boy to swim, Spock had returned with Syvek to their quarters so they could shower and dress. Arguing with the toddler over his decision to wear tan khaki pants with the top half of his pink dinosaur costume (minus the hood) had proven fruitless.

The two had visited the arboretum for a cursory lesson on biology that quickly became an impromptu (that is, one-sided) game of hide and seek. It had only taken Spock 1.3 minutes to locate the child, who had somehow managed to camouflage himself, pink clothing and all, in an Andorian shrub, but Syvek had managed to “lose” his shoes during that time.

By the time Spock located the shoes, buried – buried! – under a Terran oak tree, his control was wavering. Though it was somewhat earlier than Syvek’s usual lunchtime, his father was ready to have a couple of hours to himself during the boy’s afternoon nap, so they went to lunch.

Spock had barely begun filling the empty glass when he heard his son’s excited voice.

“I’m naked! I’m naked!”

Steeling his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Spock turned to see his son (no, ¬Kirk’s son, because despite all the times he’d told Jim it was illogical to deny parenthood based on a behavior, this streak of exhibitionism was all Jim) standing on the table in his underwear.

“Syvek!”

The boy turned and smiled. “Iss Girls Gone Wild! Wooo!” he yelled, shimmying and shaking his chest.

Snickers and laughter erupted throughout the mess hall. This seemed only to encourage the child, who began to strut along the length of the table. Spock grabbed him and retrieved the discarded clothing from the ground.

“Whass wrong, Father? Iss Daddy’s favorite holo!”

Spock didn’t answer, just stalked out of the room with clothing in one arm and a mostly-naked boy under the other.

3 yrs, 11 days old
“What’s this for?” Syvek asked, holding a strange Y-shaped object.

“Stethoscope. It’s for listening to a patient’s heart and lungs.”

Syvek frowned as he considered McCoy’s answer. “Why do you listen to them? What do they say?”

“They don’t ¬say anything, kid. A doctor listens to the sounds the heart and lungs make so he can tell if they’re working properly.”

“What about this?”

“Otoscope. It’s used to examine the ear canal or ear drum.”

“This?”

“Laryngoscope.”

“This?”

“Blood pressure cuff.”

“This?”

“Reflex hammer.”

“This?”

“Thermometer.”

“This?”

“Syringe. Look, are we about done here?” Bones asked, glancing into the bag of pretend doctor toys he had regrettably given to Syvek for his third birthday last week.

“No way!” Syvek yelled, aghast. “Get your ass back on that biobed! Your exam has not even started.”

Bones sighed before reclining on his couch, almost regretting allowing the kid to observe his own bedside manner. Small, soft hands pushed his shirt up his chest and picked up the plastic reflex hammer.

“Oof!” McCoy coughed, startled by the strength of the three-year-old’s thrust of the hammer into his stomach. “It’s not for stomachs!”

“Do not make me setate you,” the ‘doctor’ threatened, dangerously wielding the toy syringe.

“Sedate,” Bones corrected, wondering why he had gone with the vintage equipment style instead of a toy medical tricorder.

If the kid was this bad at three, what would he be like at 13? Bones sighed wearily and fell back on the bed, allowing Syvek to continue his exam. He could make it through this.

"You need bitamins," Syvek announced, but McCoy barely had time to translate "bitamins" into "vitamins" before he was unconscious.

Apparently he needed to calm down with the hyposprays. The kid had jammed the toy syringe into his neck hard enough for it to act as a Vulcan nerve pinch.

"Oopsie..."

There's a sequel now!

Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training, Part 1

2010-12-09T04:37:34Z

Title: Adventures in Vulcan Potty Training, Part 1

Author: brown_polyester

Universe/Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17 (at times)

Relationship Status: Slash, First Time

Word Count: 7,389, this part

Genre: Humor, Fluff

Tropes: kidfic, amtdi

Warnings: None

Additional Pairings: None

Summary: When Kirk and Spock end up on a planet with an entirely male population, they wonder how the men manage to procreate. Then they find out.

Disclaimer: I tried, but my bank account is too small.

Author Notes: I LOVE kidfic, but I could do without Mpreg. So I came up with a way for Kirk and Spock to have a biological child without forcing one of them to take a feminine role in a same-sex relationship.

“There are three methods that can be used,” said the High Science Priest of Ganymede Zeus. “First is the surgical method. We extract sperm cells directly from the testicles and combine the DNA.”

“Extract?” Kirk questioned.

“Yes, with a hypodermic needle.”

Some part of Kirk’s brain was very proud of the fact that he managed to stop himself from yelping out loud. “Next!”

“The medical method requires both men to masturbate and collect their respective emissions in a sample cup.”

“Sounds much better,” Kirk muttered. “And the third?”

“The natural method is similar to the medical method with a slight variation to the procedure. Instead of requiring that each man masturbate separately, the two men engage in some form of mutual gratification until emission, at which point the semen is collected in two specimen cups.”

Kirk didn’t risk a look toward Spock.

The priest continued. “We have found that the natural method yields the best results. Achievement of mutual orgasm seems to increase the quality of sperm cells. Of course, the method you use is your choice.”

“The method we use?” It was the first time Spock had spoken since the explanation began.

“Surely you intend to experience the process.” When neither man replied, his voice began to rise. “We do not share information of the process to those who do not undergo the procedure. The punishment for such deceit is death!”

Kirk switched to his most diplomatic and placating tone of voice. “My first officer and I were not informed of this requirement prior to your explanation. How can we be held responsible when we were not cognizant of the requirements?”

The priest was unimpressed. “Ignorance of the law is not an excuse. Which will it be? The process or death?”

The whole mess had started when the Enterprise was sent to make contact with the beings on a small planet, Ganymede Zeus, in a relatively unknown star system. The civilization had recently developed interstellar travel, but its strategically important location made it an ideal candidate for membership in the Federation.

After an initial greeting via a ship to planet hail, Kirk and Spock had beamed down to the planet to speak with the leaders of the government. What they had found was, to put it lightly, unexpected.

The entire population of the planet was male.

Perhaps even more unexpected was what they had observed after spending several hours with the governmental leaders. The High Science Priest of Ganymede Zeus took the two Starfleet officers on a tour of the government center in the capitol city. If the lack of women was surprising, their discovery in the corridors of one building was downright shocking.

There were children.

All the children were male, of course, and they ranged across all age groups. Some children were with, what Kirk assumed were, their parents. Two male parents.

Spock had been fascinated, as had Kirk. Spock asked the High Science Priest about their species’ reproduction, explaining that it was not possible for two males in any currently known race to procreate. The priest had been happy to share with them the science behind how they had managed to perpetuate their all-male race. It seemed that, though the people Ganymede Zeus had only just attained warp drive, the study and knowledge of the sciences was quite advanced.

That was how the two highest ranking officers on the Enterprise had come to be in their predicament, apparently required to procreate.

Spock tried to reason with the man. “Captain Kirk and I do not share a romantic or sexual relationship. There is no logic in a decision to bring a life into the world when there is not a loving environment in which it can thrive and grow.”

The priest paused. “You are not in a relationship?”

Kirk, relieved at the priest’s change in demeanor, relaxed somewhat. “We are not.”

“Upon your arrival, our automatic brain scanners detected the presence of strong emotions between the two of you. Namely, we found a high degree of mutual respect, affection, devotion, and love.” He appeared confused. “And yet you say that you have no such relationship?”

“Affirmative.”

“Right.”

Curious, the priest pressed on. “The scans clearly showed these emotions. The only explanation is that you both desire a relationship, but for unknown reasons, you have not yet consummated your desire.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said, ignoring Kirk’s incredulous look. “You say you have the technological means to scan a brain for such abstract notions as emotions?”

“Of course we do. Now, let us return to the topic at hand. Do you choose procreation or death?”

“Look,” Kirk interjected, “a starship is not the kind of place to raise a kid, especially not one that is on an exploratory mission. At any time the crew can be faced with unimaginable choices or the strong possibility of death.” Kirk shot a pointed look at the priest.

The three men stared at each other for a few moments until Spock broke the tense silence.

“Perhaps the captain and I could have some time alone to discuss our options, and you could use the time to consider our arguments.”

The priest considered the suggestion. “Very well. You may have ten Earth minutes to discuss your decision. I will lead you to one of our medical procedure rooms where you will have complete privacy.” He led them down the corridor to a locked room and paused outside. “Do not waste time attempting to contact your ship. This entire building is secure, and transmissions are blocked. You have no alternative. Knock on the door when you have made your choice.” He unlocked the door and left them inside.

As soon as the door shut, Kirk reached for his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise.” He waited. Silence. “Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise.” Again, the only answer was silence.

“Captain.”

“What?” He turned to see Spock indicating a sign above the door.

‘External transmissions to and from this room blocked for your privacy.’

Well, hell. “Any bright ideas, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked with a weak smile, already knowing the answer.

One hour later...

“Well, uh…” Kirk tried for a nonchalant tone, but he sounded strangled even to his own ears. “How should we do this?”

An angled eyebrow shot up. “I was under the impression that you have had ample experience with the procedure of sexual relations.”

Kirk’s face reddened. “Yes, I have. But this situation is a little new to me.”

“One would hope so.”

The Vulcan’s voice was almost teasing, and Kirk felt himself starting to relax. “All right, smart aleck,” he smiled. “There's no need to tease.” The awkward silence fell again. “I am sorry about this, Spock. I’d never imagined our first time would be like this. Plenty of other scenarios, but…” He cut himself off and shut his mouth.

Spock had gone completely still. “You have… fantasized about me?”

Kirk’s laugh was stilted and robotic. “I guess sometimes I get tired of thinking about blonde women.”

Spock looked unconvinced. “I see.”

“So… umm… look, if you really don’t want to do this, I won’t make you.”

“I believe the brain scans have already confirmed our mutual attraction. I see no reason for us to lie to ourselves or each other any longer.”

Kirk’s heart started beating faster, but he had to be sure that Spock knew what he was getting into. “There’s a difference between mutual attraction and having a baby together. I mean, do you love me?”

He chided himself mentally for asking that question. He hadn’t meant to bring love into the conversation, or the relationship for that matter, so soon, but the question was now hanging in the air between them. After a few seconds, he hastily said, “You don’t have to answer that. I know this isn’t easy for you, and I don’t want to push you into – “

Spock’s finger on his lips shut him up.

“The question is fair. You deserve to know how I… feel.” Years of being with humans hadn’t made it any easier for him to admit his feelings, or even their existence, but this was important, perhaps the most important moment of his life thus far. “I have no basis of comparison for describing my emotions with regards to you. I do not know whether what I feel for you is love, but I am confident that mere friendship is not an adequate description.”

“So,” Kirk began after drawing a shaky breath, “you’re saying you could love me at some point?”

“Affirmative.”

Warmth suffused Kirk’s body as his mouth slowly spread into a grin. Without warning, he launched himself at Spock, pressing their dry lips together. “I guess I can tell you that I’m pretty sure I could love you, too. I might already.”

Spock’s arms threaded around Kirk’s waist, and he lowered his mouth to Kirk’s. His lips brushed the other man’s when he asked, “Shall we?” Kirk’s only reply was a breathy moan and a tug in the direction of the provided bed. He pushed Spock onto the bed and began tugging at his own clothing, eager to begin the “procedure.”

Brown eyes devoured every square inch of skin that was revealed to him while long fingers sought out his own arousal.

One look at Spock, who was rubbing at his own erection through his trousers, and Kirk pounced. He straddled Spock’s hips, grinding his erection into Spock’s and pulling off the science blue shirt.

“Oh god,” he moaned, eyes slipping shut as his fingers ran over Spock’s abdomen. “You feel so good. Want you so badly. Clothes off now.” He leaned down and bit Spock’s nipple, eliciting a sharp grunt.

Spock flipped their positions. Lowering his mouth to Kirk’s ear, he ordered, “You will cease speaking at this time,” and damned if that didn’t make Kirk’s blood boil.

The Vulcan divested himself of the remainder of his clothing so that he and his lover could take a quick moment to regard each other. Then he scooted his hips forward, and all bets were off.

Hot erections met as hips undulated uncontrollably. Spock leaned forward and kissed Kirk hungrily, trapping their erections together between two firm abdomens. Pressure built as the soft skin of their penises teased them. There wasn’t enough friction to get them off, but neither man seemed to want it to end yet.

Spock’s fingers traced Kirk’s lips while his own lips tickled the rounded ear lobes. He bit the tender skin behind Kirk’s ear and was rewarded with a gasp that caused Kirk’s mouth to open.

He bit lightly on Spock’s index finger, and Spock hummed lowly, putting more force into his thrusts. His spare hand reached down together their erections together. The increased friction drove the two into a frenzy.

With his last functional brain cells, Spock grabbed the specimen cups that had been set on the bedside table. He separated from Kirk and used one hand to hold the cup below Kirk’s penis while the other stroked him. Kirk mirrored Spock’s actions, and they were somehow able to climax at the same time without spilling any semen.

Spock collapsed on him and rested their foreheads against the other. Faced with a brilliant grin from Kirk, he had no choice but to smile back with one corner of his mouth.

“We’re going to have a baby.”

“Affirmative.”

“We should probably… you know…” Kirk gestured to the cups they each held in their hands.

“Yes,” agreed Spock, but he made no move to get up. Kirk pushed him over to lie at his side, covered both cups with their labeled lids, and pushed them through the slot in the door to be collected by the staff.

“I feel I should say,” began Kirk, as he climbed into Spock’s arms, “that I’m very glad we decided on the natural method.”

Three days later (they were unsuccessful in their attempts to learn how the process had completed so quickly), Spock and Kirk were presented with a small, warm blanket that held the results of the demonstration. “Your son, Captain, Commander,” murmured the glowing priest.

The boy quickly became the center of their universe. The entire crew of the Enterprise cooed and fawned over the baby, his slight green skin tone, dark eyes, tiny hands and feet, pointed ears, dark hair… any feature that was visible.

1 day old

The two fathers found a moment of solace in Kirk’s quarters. They lay on his bed, facing each other with their son between them.

“Human name or Vulcan name?” Kirk asked, eyes never leaving the sight of his child’s fingers wrapped around his index finger.

Spock lightly rubbed his hand over the boy’s stomach. “Either option would be logical,” he sighed, gazing into the infant’s wide, brown eyes.

Kirk’s eyes rose to take in the barely discernable adoring smile on Spock’s face as he watched their son. Amused, he said, “Spock, did you just hedge an answer to a direct question? Fatherhood is already softening your logic?”

“I see no reason to resort to insults, Jim,” came the reply, accompanied by a stern glare and a stiffening of posture.

Laughing, Kirk leaned over the infant to press a kiss to Spock’s forehead. “Okay, we’ll table the name-giving discussion until we both have some ideas. It smells like he needs to be changed anyway.”

They stood, and Spock gathered the baby in his arms. Kirk led the way to the bathroom that connected their quarters, the bathroom that now housed a changing table.

When the natural method was finished and they were on the planet waiting for the process to be completed, Kirk had made a series of awkward communications with the Enterprise, giving orders for some things to be changed before they returned to the ship.

The biggest changes were to their quarters. Spock and Kirk would now share Kirk’s quarters so that Spock’s could be used as a nursery for their baby. Engineering had built a crib that was bracketed to the floor to prevent it from moving when the ship encountered any sort of turbulence. They had added the changing table in the bathroom and baby-proofed the three rooms.

The quartermaster set to work to create a supply of infant clothing for the child, in addition to blankets, toys, and diapers. Kirk was able to purchase some goods on the surface of Ganymede Zeus, but he had spent enough time in Starfleet to know that there was not such a thing as being too prepared.

“Good god!” Kirk exclaimed, aghast. He and Spock had opened the baby’s diaper for the first time and were about to attempt changing his diaper. “They said it was a boy!”

Standing at Kirk’s side, Spock raised an eyebrow. “Are you claiming that you are unfamiliar with Vulcan male anatomy?” Kirk stared at him, looking bewildered. “A Vulcan male’s penis is retractable. Did you not notice the characteristic when we underwent the ‘natural method’ procedure?” Kirk’s mouth had fallen open, but he made no attempt to speak. “Fascinating.”

“Your dick didn’t slide out of your body! I felt it against me before we even took off our clothes. I would have noticed a penis sliding out of a vagina-looking thing.” He tried to calm himself, but the concept of such a foreign anatomical setup was difficult for him to conceive.

Spock frowned infinitesimally. “Our copulation was incredibly stimulating. By the time we disrobed, my penis was fully erect and thus fully extended. When it is flaccid, the penis is protected inside the body to prevent injury or undue stimulation.”

Hearing Spock’s rich, clinical tone of voice explaining the mechanics of Vulcan erections was certainly rather stimulating for Kirk, whose pupils began to dilate as he imagined Spock’s erection rubbing against his own. “Damn, Spock,” he moaned, voice breathy and deep, “I never thought the words ‘copulation’ and ‘stimulating’ and even ‘flaccid’ could be so erotic. You are… unbelievably hot.”

“Actually, Jim, a healthy Vulcan’s body temperature is 32.78 degrees Celsius while a human’s body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“You’re also sexy when you pretend you don’t know any slang or idioms.” He thought for a moment, contemplating his next words. “So, in the interest of science and so on,” he purred, stalking predatorily toward Spock, “we should take some time to acquaint me with your anatomy. Right now.” He was starting to become uncomfortable by the arousal that had grown since Spock started describing their ‘copulation.’

Spock cleared his throat and stepped back from Kirk. “Perhaps we should attend to our baby.”

If that wasn’t the verbal equivalent of a cold shower, Kirk didn’t know what was. He turned back to their unnamed child to see him staring intently at his parents. Creepy.

“Right. So… how do we… clean his… you know…”

“His genitals?” Spock supplied.

“Yeah, genitals,” repeated Kirk, happy to have a nicely detached and mature term for their child’s… privates.

Spock stepped forward and proceeded to give his captain a lesson on the proper cleaning and care of a male Vulcan infant’s body.

2 days old

“I think we should give him a Vulcan name and a human name.”

“I also believe this would be the most logical course of action. He is to be a child of both worlds, and his name should represent his heritage. I have one request regarding his name.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“I would prefer that the child carry your surname.”

Kirk smiled softly. “You want him to be a Kirk?”

Nodding, Spock replied, “He should have a surname that is pronounceable to many diverse cultures and races. I have been asked quite often about my family name, and very few languages have compatible consonant and vowel arrangement.”

“If his surname is Kirk, I want his first name to be a Vulcan name. Do you have any suggestions? I don’t know many Vulcan names, other than the names of people we know. And we’re not naming our kid Sarek.”

A corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, and his eyes glowed with amusement. “I have no intention of assigning our child the name of any Vulcans with whom we are acquainted and certainly not that of my father.”

Kirk pressed a kiss to that smirking pink mouth. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Spock could feel Kirk’s breath on his face, and he closed his eyes to savor the sensations, physical and emotional, it provoked. With a shuddering inhalation, he whispered, “Syvek.”

“Syvek,” Kirk repeated. “Syvek. Is that s-y-v-e-k?” Spock nodded. “Syvek. I like it. Syvek Kirk. Hmmm… We’ll need to give him a middle name because the last letter of his first name is the same as the first letter of his last name.”

“Syvek George Kirk,” Spock suggested, aware of the human practice of honoring one’s parents or other relatives by choosing to reuse a name. In fact, Kirk’s name was one such example.

“Syvek George Kirk… No, I don’t want him to have ‘George Kirk’ in his name. Maybe… Could we give him Bones’ name?” He knew that there was some lingering animosity between the two, but he was also aware that most of the disagreements and banter were playful.

“Syvek Bones Kirk? I do not find that name suitable,” he said dryly.

Kirk laughed. “You should joke more often. It’s adorable.”

“Vulcans do not joke, and they are certainly not characterized by the adjective ‘adorable,’” was Spock’s severe reply, but he felt affection and fondness emanating from his companion. “Syvek Leonard Kirk, then? That is acceptable.”

“Great! Let’s go tell Bones!”

1 week old

“He has your eyes. And your nose. And your ears.”

“Many Vulcan traits are dominant.”

“Why’s he so green? You don’t look very green most of the time.” Kirk could hardly believe that he had made it a full week without having asked that question. He wasn’t sure how it would be received, and he had no intention of giving Spock the idea that he was somehow disturbed (or worse, disappointed) by the fact that their child had green blood instead of red.

“Have you never seen human Caucasian newborn offspring?”

“Sure I have.” He wasn’t sure where this was heading.

“Their skin tends to be dark red or purple due to their immature circulatory system and underdeveloped epidermis. Such is the case with Syvek. His tint will fade.”

Kirk sighed in relief. “Good. I find his greenness somewhat unnerving.”

“I confess that I hold a similar opinion.”

The two men smiled at each other (and it still made Kirk’s heart pound to see Spock’s smile, even ten days after they had shared their first kiss).

“I love his tiny hands and feet,” said Kirk. “There’s something about his fingernails that really drives home the fact that this little thing is really a human. Er, human-Vulcan hybrid. Uh, humanoid.”

Spock rubbed his thumb over the sole of a miniature green foot, watching the toes fan out while the foot flexed, and murmured, “Indeed.”

Putting his index finger upon Syvek’s palm and watching his little fingers clamp around it, Kirk felt an incredible happiness begin to bubble throughout his mind and body. “I love the way he grabs onto my finger like that, as if he wants to cling to me forever.”

“Infants are born with a palmar grasp reflex that causes their fingers to grasp any item placed upon their palm,” Spock stated matter-of-factly. “There is also a plantar reflex, which I have just demonstrated, that occurs because the corticospinal pathways that run from the brain down the spinal cord are not fully myelinated.”

Kirk glared at Spock. “Thanks for that,” he spat with venom.

“I am uncertain of what has caused your sudden change in demeanor,” Spock said evenly, warily.

“Of course you are. Do you have to ruin everything?” Kirk stood and stalked away, leaving a bewildered Spock behind.

“What caused such behavior?” he asked Syvek, who gurgled back happily.

2 weeks old

Syvek screamed more than any baby Kirk had ever seen. He cried for hours, and nothing could calm him down. Spock was on the bridge, and scared that the baby was sick, Kirk ran through the corridors, holding the wailing infant securely against his chest. He burst through the door into sickbay (of course, the door wasn’t really made for bursting, so he actually ran through the doorway) and called out for his CMO.

“What the hell, Jim? Why is that kid screaming? Why are you out of breath? And why the hell are you yelling out my name at the top of your lungs?”

“He won’t stop crying! I don’t know what he needs!”

Bones waved his scanner around the child, searching for any abnormalities. According to the results, the infant was not hungry, tired, or sick, and his diaper was clean. “How long has he been crying?”

“Umm, about… half an hour? What time is it?” He checked the sickbay clock. “Yes, thirty minutes. I don’t know what the hell to do!”

McCoy raised an eyebrow at Kirk. “Thirty minutes? You pansy. Hold your kid, rock him, play with him, sing… no, talk to him… Thirty minutes is nothing. Come back in three hours if he hasn’t stopped.”

Before he could leave, he heard the bosun’s whistle, and the intercom lit up. “Spock to Captain Kirk.”

Kirk deposited the shrieking baby in McCoy’s arms and went to the intercom. “Kirk here.”

“Captain, is something amiss? I sense some amount of distress through my link with Syvek.” Spock’s voice was as professional as it had been three weeks ago, before they could have contemplated the possibility of such a change in their relationship, let alone the existence of their baby. He was ever aware of his duty and the fact that he was using a ship communicator to contact Kirk.

Something caught Kirk’s attention. “You have a link with Syvek? Since when?”

“Perhaps we should discuss this privately in… your quarters.” The pause lasted perhaps half a second, but both Kirk and Bones recognized it.

Kirk huffed out a small laugh. “You can refer to it as our quarters, you know.”

“Very well, Captain. Will you return so that we might discuss this together?”

That he did not choose to use the pronoun did not escape Kirk’s notice. “All right, all right. We’re coming.” He ended the link. “See you later, Bones,” he muttered, as he accepted the squirming, squealing child into his own arms.

...........

Spock was waiting at Kirk’s desk when he and Syvek entered their quarters. Syvek was still screaming, and Kirk explained why the two of them had been in sickbay. At the end of Kirk’s story, Spock nodded and put out his arms to take the child. Cradling the boy in one arm, he used his other hand to put his fingers on Syvek’s meld points.

Syvek immediately stopped crying. Kirk watched as his two Vulcans breathed slowly, eyes closed in concentration. A few minutes later, Spock removed his fingers and opened his eyes. He smiled down at Syvek, who was sleeping peacefully, looking completely content.

After carrying the baby through the shared restroom and into his quarters, which they had converted to a nursery for the baby, Spock emerged and fixed his gaze on Kirk, who had taken a seat on the bed. He sat beside him and began to speak.

“Vulcan children and parents share a familial bond. Syvek instinctively formed this bond with me the first time I held him.”

“Wait,” Kirk interjected, “how did you get him to stop crying?”

“He was experiencing some mild discomfort. I used the bond to help soothe his pain and to begin to teach him how to do so himself.”

Feeling like a complete failure, Kirk said, “So there’s nothing I could do to help him, short of giving him some pain medication, which would be absurd. I couldn’t have known he was in pain, so I didn’t think of giving him drugs.”

“Medication for pain is usually unnecessary for Vulcan, except in instances of extreme injury or illness,” Spock admonished, somewhat alarmed at the thought of giving medication to a two-week-old baby.

Kirk rolled his eyes, saying, “I know better than to give him any medication that is not strictly needed. And Bones wouldn’t allow it anyway.” He thought for a moment. “I’m never going to be as good of a parent as you. I don’t have a telepathic bond with him.”

Hearing the heartbroken tone in Kirk’s voice caused a pang of sympathy within Spock. “He also bonded with you, but due to your low esper rating, you are unable to detect the bond.”

Kirk’s head jerked up to meet Spock’s eyes. “I want to feel that bond! Is there any way I could learn how to use it, or at least how to become aware of it?”

There was so much hope in Kirk’s hazel eyes that Spock found it hard to breathe. Heart thumping in his side, he made a suggestion he had planned on delaying. “I could… help you learn how to manipulate the bond.”

“Okay. What do I need to do?” Kirk turned so he was fully facing Spock, drawing his left leg up on the bed and hooking his right leg over his left ankle.

Spock looked down. “You would need an intermediary, someone to enter both your mind and Syvek’s, to show you the bond and allow you to recognize it.” He stopped speaking.

“Can’t you do that?”

“Yes, I can, but joining our three minds together will be dangerous in some ways.”

Kirk waited, but Spock did not continue. “In what ways will it be dangerous? I don’t know what you’re getting at, Spock. Just tell me everything.”

“Jim, our bonds with Syvek are extraordinarily strong. Parental bonds are the second-strongest bonds that one can make. Because you and I are not bonded but share a child, allowing our parental bonds to contact each other will create a bond between us.”

“So let’s do it. Let’s bond.” He was uncertain as to why this was supposedly dangerous.

Spock closed his eyes and sighed. This was clearly going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. “The bond that the contact will create is a matrimonial bond.” He watched understanding dawn in Kirk’s eyes. The understanding morphed into fear, into panic, and into refusal. This final emotion caused Spock to look away again.

Kirk winced. “Look, Spock, I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. But the bonding thing sort of... scares me.” He stood and began pacing. “I haven’t had much luck with long term relationships, and I’m not that comfortable with commitment.”

Spock’s posture became more and more rigid throughout Kirk’s speech. His face slipped into a seamless Vulcan mask, one Kirk hadn’t seen for months. “I will remind you, Captain,” he began, tone colder than Kirk had ever heard it, “that you have already committed yourself by agreeing to have a child with me.”

He deflated a bit. “Yes, but... I... Well... That’s different!” he insisted.

“I respectfully disagree, sir. In fact, this commitment is more binding than even a romantic one. We have decided to devote ourselves to the child; therefore we are devoted to each other for at least the duration of his life.”

Kirk thought about Spock’s words but was unable to come up with a solution. “I’ll…” Kirk looked at his feet and his shoulders drooped. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

...........

“Damn it, Jim! What is your problem? I thought you loved him!” McCoy exclaimed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Kirk’s head was perched on the desk in McCoy’s quarters, and his hands were clasped around an empty glass in front it. He tried to breathe evenly as he rested his forehead on the edge of the desk and closed his eyes before he began to speak.

“So much has happened in the last few weeks. I never thought I would become a father. It’s not as if I had any problem with being a dad; I just figured it would never happen. Nature of the job and all, I guess. Now… I have this… baby, and somehow that squirming, screaming poop factory has become the most… beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And he wouldn’t exist without Spock.

“The problem is that even with an unplanned pregnancy from a one night stand, the future parents have several months together, during which they can get to know each other, come to love… each other. Spock and I had three days. Three awkward days, which were spent avoiding each other as much as possible and carefully ignoring the elephant in the room whenever avoidance wasn’t possible.

“When we had to decide whether we were going to have a child or face the death penalty, I told him that I loved him. He said he believed he could love me someday. God, the joy I felt at those words… But what he wants now is not love. It’s commitment to someone who doesn’t love me; it’s a free pass into my thoughts and feelings, accessible at all times.”

Bones waited a moment before he said, “You’ve melded with him before. He asked for your consent, and you seemed happy to give it. What’s so different about a bond?”

“He asked for my consent! That’s what’s different!” Kirk sighed, feeling old and tired. “A bond would be an all-access pass to my brain. He wouldn’t need to ask for consent.”

“Are you sure that’s what a bond would be?”

“That’s the impression that I get.”

“Well, what’ve you guys been doing the last two weeks? Spock’s quarters are now Syvek’s nursery, right? You two sharing a bed?” He really did not want details, but his friend needed to talk to someone, and that someone was clearly not going to be Spock this time.

“What do you think we’ve been doing? Yes, we are sharing quarters, and we are sharing a bed. But we don’t exactly have a lot of time alone. We’re working different shifts now so the kid has at least one dad with him at all times. Usually when we are together, Syvek’s there. And at night, when Syvek’s actually asleep, I’m so exhausted that I can barely keep my eyes open. Of course, Spock’s a damned Vulcan, who doesn’t require the same amount of sleep as a human does. God, Bones, I’m sleeping beside the second hottest guy on the ship, and we’ve only gotten each other off twice. And that’s counting when we made Syvek!”

They were both silent for several minutes when something finally clicked in McCoy’s head. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You love him, he probably loves you, and you’re afraid to bond with him because you think it will rob you of your mental privacy.”

“Yes, except for the part where you think he ‘probably loves’ me,” Kirk sighed.

Bones’ eyebrow shot up. “When you first told me the story of what happened on that screwy planet, you told me he said he wasn’t sure what love felt like but that he felt something beyond friendship for you? And that he said he could love you after a while?”

“Correct.”

“Jim, from a guy like Spock, that’s practically a declaration of unconditional love!”

For the first time since the conversation had begun, Kirk felt a small sense of hope.

But McCoy wasn’t finished. “Now the only problem is that you’re afraid he’ll read your mind all the time.” Kirk nodded. “Problem solved. If a bond would allow him to read the thoughts of the other person without establishing a meld, he wouldn’t have needed to meld with Syvek.” He sat back and smiled, feeling very self-satisfied.

Kirk stood suddenly and slammed his glass down atop the desk. He turned and dashed out the door, barely hearing Bones’ parting, “You’re welcome!”

...........

Gathering his thoughts at the door before entering, Kirk took a deep breath. He strode in with confidence to speak with Spock. Spock, who wasn’t sitting at the desk. Wasn’t on their sofa. Wasn’t in bed. Wasn’t in their bathroom.

Suddenly Kirk didn’t feel quite so confident. Doubt and fear swirled together and settled into the pit of his stomach as he slowly approached the connecting door between Syvek’s room and the bathroom. Bracing himself for whatever he might find beyond that door, be it Syvek alone, Syvek and Spock, or (please don’t let it be) no one, Kirk hit the door trigger.

His eyes didn’t immediately adjust to the relative darkness in the nursery, and he felt a brief touch of terror just before he heard Spock’s voice.

“Do not worry, little one,” Spock was whispering to the infant and stroking his cheek where they sat in the rocking chair Scotty had built for them. “If Daddy declines my proposal, we will find a Vulcan healer who can show him your bond and teach him to use it. We will find a way for you to experience the touch of his beautiful mind. You need not suffer the pain of rejection on my behalf.”

Kirk knew he should say something, alert Spock to his presence, but he was riveted to the spot, unseen by Syvek or Spock.

Spock continued. “Your daddy is truly a magnificent human. Try not to let his emotions upset you; he feels them rather deeply but tends to hide them even deeper. He is much like a Vulcan in that respect. You will both learn how to control your own emotions more effectively so that you may function efficiently, but I will not require you to purge all emotion from within yourself. I do not desire for you to do so.

“I was not considered to be a true Vulcan by some when I was a child; my human half was often ridiculed by peers and even elders. I spent years attempting to rid myself of emotion and even considered undergoing Kolinahr, but I now know that to have done so would have prevented my current situation. If I had been successful in purging my emotions, I would not have entered Starfleet. I would not have met your daddy, and worse yet, you would not exist.

“Your childhood will not be free from pain, for such an occurrence would be not only most unusual, but would likely cause significant damage to your development. No, there will be pain, but you will also know joy, pride, curiosity, affection, and love. You will never doubt that you are loved. Both of your parents love you more than you can imagine, more than even we can comprehend.

“So do not fret, Syvek. Your existence is still a surprising one, and it cannot readily be explained by any science we have discovered, but neither Jim nor I would trade it for the universe. Whether I can make your daddy as happy as he has made me remains to be seen, but know that you will always have a loving family to care for you.”

Kirk stood still, barely breathing. He didn’t want Spock to know he’d been listening this whole time or to think he’d been eavesdropping, but he couldn’t just leave without alerting Spock with the sound of the door. And those words… That eloquent speech Spock had made to their son, that speech about Kirk and love and childhood and emotion and love and Kirk… He was nearly lightheaded with the amount of tenderness that Spock’s thoughts and words revealed.

His selfish motivation for wanting to avoid the bond shamed him. He had jumped to conclusions about the nature of the bond, a completely unknown subject to him, and hadn’t stopped to ask Spock about what it would entail. He’d heard the word “matrimonial” and bolted.

Decision made, he reopened the door behind him and stepped noisily into the room to alert the occupants to his presence.

Syvek was nearly asleep, so Spock rose and set him in his crib. Kirk followed him through to their shared quarters, and they both sat at the small table usually reserved for chess.

Kirk spoke first. “I have some questions I need you to answer before I can make my decision.” Spock nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Will this bond be like a permanent meld? What is the nature of a matrimonial bond?"

“Having never experienced such a bond myself, I can only give you repsonses based upon my own logical deductions and the few secondhand testimonies I have heard.”

Kirk thought for a while about what he’d discussed with McCoy. He thought about his own revelations during that conversation and those he’d had as he listened to Spock talking to Syvek. Suddenly aware that Spock seemed somewhat uncomfortable, uncertain even, he stood and went to Spock’s side, taking the Vulcan’s face between his hands.

“I love you. If someone were to collect all the affection, desire, attraction, and admiration I’ve had for all of my past partners combined and multiply it by Graham’s number, it wouldn’t come close to approaching the amount of love I feel for just your little finger.”

He pressed his lips against Spock’s in a chaste, tender kiss. When he pulled back, he brought his hands down to rest on Spock’s strong shoulders.

“It scares me, how much I love you. It’s as if I have a 7 card and a 9 card, and the dealer is showing a 6. Commonly accepted wisdom states that I should stand because it’s risky to hit on a 16 when the dealer is showing 6 or lower, but it’s just as risky to stand on a 16. If the dealer wins, I could lose everything. But if the dealer busts, I win more than I ever thought I could. Problem with that is that I’m a gambling man. I can’t resist a good game. What if I lose it all in the next round? What if I don’t know when to get out? What if I get stuck in the game? What happens when someone else wants to play? What if I have to play to save the ship, the crew?”

Spock considered the deluge of questions carefully, and he replied, “I regret tot say that, as I am unfamiliar with the game of poker, I cannot adequately answer your queries. Could you rephrase them without using a metaphor?”

Kirk laughed. “First of all, I was talking about blackjack. But what I’m saying is that I’m afraid I’ll mess this up. If I do, I’ll lose everything I care about. Everything.”

“Jim, we will work through any problems we face together. I refuse to give up where you are concerned, especially now that we have a son. Please take some time to reflect upon your feelings and come to a decision. I will not attempt to rush your conclusion.”

“Thanks,” Jim smiled. “Let’s go to bed, then.”

...........

Kirk felt that he needed to know what he would be getting into if he agreed to the bond. What would a psi-null being feel, and how would it affect the Vulcan to whom the being was bonded? He could think of one person who could answer these questions.

That was how he came to be in the somewhat awkward position of having a vid conference with Spock’s mother, asking about her bond with Sarek.

“Does he hear your thoughts all the time?”

Amanda smiled. “No, he does not. We can both sense the other’s emotions and, to a certain extent, physical sensations. For example, if we are at a formal reception and one of us is caught in conversation with someone uninteresting, the other will sense that person’s discomfort. Once, several months into our marriage, I was speaking with the Holy Justice of Blandovia at a dinner celebration, and the justice was boring me almost to tears with a description of the Blandovian legal system. Sarek felt my boredom, approached us, and asked me to join him on a walk.”

“I never knew he was such a romantic,” laughed Kirk. “What do you mean when you say you can sense physical sensations?”

She smirked, lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Imagine being able to detect the physical status of your partner. Not only would you know when to attend to him in sickness, but you would be able to detect pleasurable feelings as well.” She glanced around before leaning closer to the screen and lowering her voice. “The bond makes for the most mind blowing sexual relationship you can imagine.”

Kirk’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. “Oh… Kay…” He didn’t need a mirror to tell him he was blushing.

“Mother?” croaked a voice to his side. He turned to see that he wasn’t the only one blushing furiously. Spock must have entered just in time for that comment.

“Greetings, Spock,” she said warmly. “I assume you heard that last remark.”

Spock moved into the view of the camera so that he was visible over Kirk’s shoulder. He intended to say something, though he was not sure what he would say, but he was cut off by his mother’s delighted exclamation.

“Syvek! There’s my grandbaby!” Spock looked down at the child in his arms. He had forgotten he’d been holding the baby when he decided to show himself to his mother. It seemed this vid conference would be much longer than Kirk had intended.

...........

With the baby napping, Kirk took advantage of the quiet moment to approach Spock about their discussion regarding the matrimonial bond.

“I talked to your mother to find out about her observations of and experiences with the matrimonial bond. I’ve come to a decision.”

Spock set down the data PADD and stood to look Kirk in the eye.

“Let’s do it. It won’t be easy, but I’ll never stop loving you. We’ll work through all the difficult things that happen and end up stronger as a result. While I am not sure if I trust myself to do the right thing all the time, I know that a life without you is not one that I would like to suffer.”

He was frozen for a moment, but Spock quickly regained his senses enough to embrace his captain, soon to be his husband. “Thank you, Jim,” he whispered.

Part 2.

brown_polyester @ 2009-11-03T19:57:00

2009-11-04T00:59:04Z

Title: Spoon, Part 1
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: R, until further notice
Word Count: 740
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Summary: He was spooning Wilson.
Author Notes: It took me forever to figure out the cuts and whatnot. I eventually copied and pasted the actual text into the formatting of one of my previous posts. I took my laptop to work (school) with me so I could figure this out. Kids who are still in HS: can you imagine your teacher working on a House/Wilson fic at school? Can you imagine your teacher writing porny slash? It's hilarious to know that teachers act the same way you do when they're at home.

As House woke up in his bed, he slowly became aware of two things. The first was that as he lay on his left side, he felt someone cuddled against his front. He cautiously opened his eyes and saw the back of Wilson’s head. He was spooning Wilson. The second thing was that he had a decent morning wood that was pressed against Wilson’s lower back. He most certainly did not notice the way that his growing erection pulsated at the realization of those two things.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, which was buried in Wilson’s hair, he remembered what had happened the night before.

He and Wilson had been drinking and eating Chinese food while they watched New Yankee Workshop. Something Wilson had said, or maybe something that had happened on the show, had caused House to laugh out loud, spitting his drink out on Wilson and all over the couch. Wilson had had a bit too much to drink, and in response to his unexpected shower, he had poured out his own drink on House, dousing him in Grolsch.

All of that had led to House dumping what was left of his sweet and sour sauce on Wilson’s head, obliterating any possibility that the couch might be usable as a sleeping place. After each man had showered, Wilson had insisted on sharing House’s bed with him.

And now the fingertips of House’s right hand reached out to glide over the curve of Wilson’s hips. House kept his touch light but couldn’t resist going further, so his fingers moved up Wilson’s side, tracing the warm, soft skin that was exposed where Wilson’s shirt had ridden up.

When Wilson sighed softly, House stilled his hand and listened for any unsteadiness in his friend’s breathing. Deciding he was safe, he slid his hand to Wilson’s stomach and played with the thin hair. Barely touching the warm skin, House started to make his way up to Wilson’s chest. His fingertips encountered a nipple that hardened at the brush of cold fingertips. Wilson inhaled sharply, but his breathing continued evenly.

House’s erection was nearly fully developed, and he kept his hips pressed against Wilson’s back, finding just enough pressure to keep him hard. As he began to move back down Wilson’s chest, he moved his hand in small circles. Gradually inching his way lower on Wilson’s stomach, he spread his fingers, allowing them to cover more of Wilson’s skin. When his pinky dipped to Wilson’s navel, he hesitated.

What was he doing? Or rather, why was he doing it? Feeling up his best friend while he spooned against said best friend, pressing his erection against said best friend’s back… As he pondered these questions, his hand, of its own volition, he was sure, began moving again.

It wasn’t until his pinky reached the waistband of Wilson’s boxers that House became fully aware of his actions, jerking his hand away from Wilson’s heated skin. Trapped under the waistband was something firm, smooth, and … moist? Tentatively, he moved his hand back to Wilson’s waistband and held out his first two fingers. Sliding them beneath the elastic waistband, he moved his hand toward Wilson’s navel again.

It was at this point that House’s penis became entirely rigid. This was probably due to what his fingers encountered under Wilson’s waistband. The head of Wilson’s cock was firm, smooth, and moist, leaking as House’s fingers pressed against it. Wilson hissed at the touch, and the sound startled House so much that he jumped and scooted back on the bed, putting several inches between himself and Wilson.

Wilson made a small, whiny sound deep in his throat and slid backwards toward House. When Wilson’s ass made contact with House’s groin, House bit his lip and gasped. As Wilson happily snuggled back into House’s embrace, he wiggled his ass a bit, grinding into House’s erection.

House bucked his hips against Wilson as an intense wave of pleasure washed over him, and he grabbed onto Wilson’s hip, firmly holding himself to stay flush with Wilson’s ass. He waited until the wave had dissipated, then let go of Wilson’s hip and relaxed.

Contemplating how to extract himself from this position, he pressed dry lips to the back of Wilson’s neck and let his eyes close. His right hand resumed stroking Wilson’s exposed side lightly.

“How long were you planning to feel me up before you actually wake me up?”

Report Cards - before they were doctors...

2009-06-04T17:22:50Z

Title: Report Cards
Author: brown_polyester
Rating: G
Summary: Glimpses into the lives of our intrepid doctors (and a few others) as middle/high school age students...
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Author Notes: This is sort of a fic in that it has words. So I wrote these a while ago, and I've just found them, glimpses into the lives of our intrepid doctors (and a few others) as middle/high school age students. I decided to post them as images instead of just text. They're supposed to look like report cards that would be sent home to parents/guardians. They each state what grade level the student is in, but I've added the average age range for those of you who aren't familiar with the American education system. (You're lucky if you aren't familiar with it; it sucks).

Chase in Year Seven (aged 12-13)

Cameron in 9th grade (aged 14-15; this is the first year of high school, or secondary school)

Foreman in 7th grade (aged 12-13)

Cuddy in 8th grade (aged 13-14)

Weird Night Janitor Who Dates Wears His Pants Backwards in 11th grade (aged 16-17; second-to-last year of high school)

Weird Lawyer From The Board With Eleven Fingers Who Dates Transsexuals in 10th grade (aged 15-16)

House in 8th grade (aged 13-14)

Wilson in 7th grade (aged 12-13)

Well, what did you think? Comment NOW, bitches!

Disney fanvid!!!

2008-11-15T16:44:08Z

So, I've finally finished all of the stupid junk I had to do to graduate. I am once more free to make fanvids. This is one that was about 75% done in February. I've been dying to get back to it, and now here it is! It is one of my finest, if I you don't mind my saying.

It's another Disney crack!vid, but the song is not (at least I don't think it is) very well known. It's from Pete's Dragon, and it is called "Boo Bop BopBop Bop."

Also, the mean copyright people have forced YouTube to take down 3 of my past videos. If you want these videos, send me a message with your email address. The three are:

House MD - Close To You
(The Carpenters)
House MD - Handle With Care
(The Traveling Wilburys)
House MD - I'll Make A Man Out Of You
(Disney's Mulan)

So here we are! Comment (either here or on YouTube) if you enjoy!

Fic: If Someone Had Asked

2008-02-05T02:53:22Z

Title: If Someone Had Asked
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship (unless you're like me with the goggles and such)
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Word Count: 380
Warning(s): Sort of post-ep for Frozen (4x11), so don't read unless you know the spoilers. This is nothing like my other (two) fics. No smut. No fluff. No PWP. Angst.
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Summary: If someone had asked House, he'd tell the person that he wanted to look out for Wilson...
Author Notes: I just can't stand it. I should be writing lesson plans, but I can't stop thinking about last night's episode. I was extra pissed. Still am. I feel like Squints. "Oiling and lotioning, lotioning and oiling. I can't take it anymore!"

If someone had asked House, he’d tell the person that he wanted to look out for Wilson, to secure Wilson’s finances, to ensure that Wilson would be able to provide him with all the necessary amenities for retirement (or rather for any costs that might pop up along the way – bail, bikes, hookers). If someone had asked him, he’d say that he wanted to save himself the time, energy, and money it would take to be a best man. Again.

If he had asked himself, he would reason that he wanted to save Wilson the fourth alimony, not because the money should be available to House but because Wilson would need the money to live in a decent hotel room after he left House’s apartment after the divorce. He would conclude that Wilson would be accessible at all times if this mistake was headed off. He would admit (inwardly, of course) that he wanted to prevent Wilson from being in the uncomfortable position of sitting through meals with someone who wasn’t talking to him, of explaining why he was staying at House’s on a random Tuesday evening, of getting married to someone who might as well be his ex-wife by the time the wedding took place. He’d been through the routine, and he would acknowledge that he was determined to cut off the cycle.

If House had ruminated on it, honestly searching himself for his motivation, he would have discovered that he couldn’t stand knowing that Wilson was sleeping with her, spending time with her, the cutthroat bitch, for Christ’s sake! He would have let the insecurity and jealousy be realized, insecurity of his position in Wilson’s life (the same insecurity that surfaced every time Wilson paid more attention to someone else) and jealousy over Wilson’s choice to be with someone else. His choice to be with the cutthroat bitch, for Christ’s sake! Was he that bad? Was he so insufferable that Wilson would rather spend a couple hundred dollars, spend several hours, on dinner with the cutthroat bitch? That Wilson would rather try to look pretty for the cutthroat bitch than to look pretty for House? For Christ’s sake!

No one asked. He didn’t ask himself. He didn’t ruminate. He went home. He finished the bottle of bourbon. He passed out on the couch.

Fic: Just Curious

2007-12-23T22:39:47Z

Title: Just Curious
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Word Count: 2122
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Summary: He had expected to see gay porn. He had expected to see a horrible collection of pictures and videos of hairy men having hairy butt sex. He had not expected to see thumbnails of videos that looked so erotically appealing.
Author Notes: Attempt dos at actually posting a fanfic. Do you still love me? Oh! And let me know if you want the links…

Wilson anticipatorily drummed his fingers on the edge of the keyboard while his computer was starting up. He told himself that he wasn’t nervous, that this wasn’t a big deal, that he was satisfying a curiosity, that the curiosity would be gone in fewer than ten minutes never to return.

The desktop popped up suddenly, and Wilson froze. He swallowed, the simple act taking more than twice the amount of effort usually needed. He undid his tie and threw it onto the bed, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he moved his hand to the mouse. He released the breath and opened the Internet browser.

He’d been perusing the Internet about a week ago when he’d come upon the term “frottage.” He still felt fairly young, but college had been a long time ago. That art appreciation class had become a dim memory of the discussions during which he would try to say the most enlightened, sensitive thing he could imagine and of the numerous girls who, upon hearing his enlightened and sensitive thoughts in class, would ask him to help them study.

When he had made his way out of that memory, he searched Wikipedia for the term. He found that, as he already knew, frottage was an art technique, but it was also some sort of sex act. “Frotteurism” was “a form of sexual deviation,” whatever the hell that meant. But “frottage” was also apparently “consensual sexual rubbing between partners.” He had clicked on the link with the text “See Non-penetrative sex,” and his adventure had begun.

He had discovered several methods of “outercourse,” including intercrural sex (penis between the thighs), axillary intercourse (penis in the armpit… the armpit!?, he’d thought), and tribadism (vulval-vulval rubbing between two females). He sat contemplating various ideas for several moments before remembering why he’d clicked on this article.

“Frot” was described as penile-penile rubbing between two males. Clicking on that article, he found more specific information and more explicit descriptions. “…rubbing of erect penis on erect penis, typically while in full-frontal embrace,” and “…stimulates the frenulum nerve bundle under the glans,” and “Unlubricated frot can cause pain and injury to the tender surface of the glans.” He had shuddered at that last thought.

He’d found a link at the bottom of the article and was directed to www.man2manalliance.org. It was a massive page, annoyingly devoid of frames or clearly defined areas. The authors described frot as “full-body, phallus-on-phallus sex, done face-to-face and heart-to-heart.” He had skimmed further down the page, learning that the point of view here was that anal sex was effeminizing, whereas frot was “equal, natural, and masculine.” Wilson had rolled his eyes and continued down the page with his mouse’s scroll wheel.

And then he’d seen a picture. Two men, kissing and holding each other, half-erect penises touching. He caught bits of “information” between pictures (not that he was scrolling through the page and looking for pictures), such as the idea that frot had something to do with fidelity and that it was some sort of holy sacrament of something.
I’m not interested in this bullshit. Where can I find more pictures? he thought. Whoa! Wait. What? Um… No, it’s okay; I’m curious. I like to learn new things. Of course it’s nothing I’ll ever do but… So he had tried to find actual movies or clips, but he was unable to find anything. He struck up a friendship of sorts with a man on a gay/bisexual/curious forum.

Overflowing with nervous energy, he unbuttoned his cuffs as the browser loaded. While he was rolling up his sleeves, he activated his added security features on the browser, more at ease with the knowledge that his Internet session would be anonymous and leave no trails or bits of information in the cache. Opening the email message he’d received that morning from someone on that message board he’d been perusing lately, Wilson gave himself a few moments to decide whether he truly wanted to explore its contents.

The curiosity won, and he clicked on the first link.

The blinking banner read:
NOTICE: Mature Content GØys.org – the Dawn of a Wonderful Heresy

The scrolling text beneath the title read:
Guys who Luv Guys, but do-NØT identify with "GAY"! - Into Relationship, NØT Raunch!

A graphic boasting Kinsey Scale statistics stated that over 60% of people are not 100% heterosexual. Further down the page were statistics asserting that 37-77% of men were feeling just like he was (as if he knew what that was!). The gist of the site was that men could love men without having anally penetrative sex.

Another part of the site mentioned the fact that the word “gay” originally meant something that was quite different from the modern usage, going so far as to compare that change in definition to the change in the meaning of the word “swastika.” Scrolling down that page, Wilson was treated with pictures of mass graves and a man standing at the edge of such a grave with a line of soldiers (and most remarkably, one soldier in particular standing much closer and holding a gun) in the background.

He promptly closed that tab, staring at the screen for a moment with his mouth open, taking a deep breath, shaking his head as if to rid his mind of the pictures he’d seen, and returning to the email. He debated with himself over clicking the next link, but his thirst for knowledge and understanding overwhelmed his other feelings (as it so often did).

His mouth was once again hanging open. He had expected to see gay porn. He had expected to see a horrible collection of pictures and videos of hairy men having hairy butt sex. He had not expected to see thumbnails of videos that looked so erotically appealing.

Two young men, very young men, probably still teens, were on some sort of furniture piece in some sort of room, the details of which Wilson would never see, holding their erections together. Wilson squirmed in his seat, trying to make himself more comfortable while willing his own half-erection to subside.

In the name of scientific discovery, he clicked on the first movie. And there it was. Gay porn. One young man holding both cocks in his hand while the men looked at each other fondly and smiled. The next movie clip showed one of the men sucking the other off. Somehow Wilson found the sight to be uncomfortably alluring. To see a blowjob wasn’t uncommon in porn, and like anyone else (he assumed), he enjoyed the blowjob scenes by imagining that the dick being sucked was his.

But to see the strong chest and arm muscles flexing as the mouth repeatedly enveloped the cock… He hadn’t fathomed that such a sight would be so… appealing.

The third movie was a reversal of the blowjob scene, and the last was anal sex. Wilson found himself studying the position of the two young men in the last clip. They were face to face, one’s hips supported and elevated by pillows while his legs were in the air. Upon pondering what he’d just seen, Wilson found himself thinking that the position during the last clip wouldn’t work well. No way could House—

“Gah!” Wilson exclaimed, jumping up from his desk and pacing around the room. I did not just think about the logistics of having anal sex with House! He certainly did not want to think about having sex with House, nor did he actually want to have sex with House. He poured a glass of water for himself and took a few deep breaths before sitting down again (and he most certainly did not adjust his erection, the erection he didn’t have, when he sat).

The third link he clicked took him to another set of clips. If he’d thought the boys in the previous set had looked young, he was shocked by these boys. Momentarily panicking, he hit the END key, looking at the bottom of the page for assurance that all models were over the age of 18 when filmed. Relaxing, he scrolled to the top and clicked on the first video.

God, they’re cute, he thought, suddenly feeling very old and very creepy. The two on screen simply kissed and cuddled a bit. The second video steamed things up a bit. The boy on top was slowly thrusting his erection against his friend’s. Or his lover’s. Or his costar’s. Whatever they called themselves, those boys were pretty damn hot.

Well, now I’ve got to know more, he thought to himself as the last clip on that page ended. The next link sent him to a video site called Xtube.com, where he encountered a poorly made home video of two men rubbing their cocks together. Five minutes of poorly made home video of two men rubbing their cocks together. To be fair, there was a decent amount of cocksucking and rimming (Wilson shuddered), but there were quite a few minutes of cockrubbing.

He moved on to another home video, this time just focused on the two dicks, as if the second man was also the cameraman, whereas the previous video seemed to have been filmed from several angles that suggested an additional participant. This one had nothing but clean, hard cockrubbing.

Wilson sat back and rubbed his face. Why am I doing this? It’s gone well beyond a scientific experiment. And it’s not as if I’m enjoying this! He fidgeted in his seat, drawing in a shaky breath at the friction between his trousers and briefs, his briefs and erection. Miraculously, his hand moved of its own accord, positioning the cursor over the last link and clicking with anticipation.

“Oh God,” he groaned. It was some sort of erotica film. There was a lot of sensual kissing and light caressing. Watching the two men’s erections rub slowly together, watching them come in slow motion… He didn’t even realize that he was thrusting his hips minutely at the same slow pace. The ecstasy on their faces as they kissed slowly in the afterglow, the intensity of their embrace, the surprisingly beautiful sight of two men with smooth-looking skin…

That had been the last link, but he searched the related videos and found a few more videos with the keyword “frottage.” A set of three clips, twenty-some seconds each, of two muscular, attractive men standing face-to-face and caressing chests, thrusting against one another, kissing intensely. Another video of two boys in a sultan’s harem, giving the older man a massage, a blowjob, one boy rubbing his cock between the man’s butt cheeks.

Wilson’s hand had been in and out of his pants already, and they and his briefs were down at his feet. He toed off his shoes and socks before moving to lie on the bed. He began to thrust wildly into his fist. He vaguely heard himself making little mewling noises in time with his thrusts. Imagining thrusting his cock against another man’s, he felt his muscles starting to clench. Almost against his will, almost, his mind conjured an image of House underneath his own body, thrashing and groaning in pleasure as he met Wilson’s thrusts with his own.

His breaths were fast and shallow, and he felt almost giddy at the intense feelings the image evoked in him. He was so close that when he heard the beep coming from his hotel room’s lock, he couldn’t stop. His eyes suddenly met House’s, and he came with a loud shout.

As his body twitched with aftershocks, he broke eye contact, looking down at his semen-covered hand. For some reason, he didn’t care if House saw him naked, or almost naked, as it were. A bit of panic jolted him, and he turned his head to his computer screen. Screen saver. Thank God, he thought, relaxing again. He wiped his hand on his undershirt and raised his head to see if House was still standing in the doorway.

He was frozen in the same position as Wilson had initially seen him, quickly moving his eyes up and down Wilson’s body. Wilson stood and opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and putting them on. After he changed into a clean t-shirt and hoodie, he couldn’t think of anything to say to House, so he started to pick up and fold his discarded clothes.

House stepped fully into the room and made his way to the desk. Watching Wilson’s inquisitive eyes, he shifted his hand so that it touched Wilson’s mouse, and the screen saver on the computer vanished. House looked down at the screen and cleared his throat. “So I guess you already saw those links I sent you.”

Fic: The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio

2007-02-05T01:03:27Z

Title: The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Author Notes: I almost never read drabbles; I tend to prefer long stories. I randomly read one challenge a while back (created by anamatics?), and I had the perfect book. I bastardized the drabble concept because I'm really bad at succinctness. I'm still not used to doing lj cuts, so cross your fingers! (Actually, if you're reading this, it means that I posted it and it works, so you don't really need to cross your fingers at all... See what I mean with the whole lack of succinctness thing?)

The Writing Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. until you have ten quotes. Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.

My chosen book:
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio: How to Give Him Mindblowing Pleasure by Violet Blue

10. If you’re working on your level of comfort with fellatio, you can put a few things into practice to help you along.

Wilson kept his eyes down as he walked through the grocery store. He concentrated on the strange pattern of the floor tiles and tried not to crash into anyone’s cart. Glancing up every few seconds, he quickly made his way through the store. A box of Cap’n Crunch’s Peanut Butter Crunch was dropped into the basket in his grip, followed by a package of whole bean coffee. He returned his gaze to the floor and briskly strode toward the produce section.

He felt so nervous and anxious that his stomach was churning, but something inside him was igniting with excitement as he perused the selection of fruits and vegetables. He glanced at the asparagus before shuddering and moving along. His eyes shifted toward the intimidating cucumbers, and he felt his jaw drop a little. He shook his head and continued, finally selecting a small bunch of bananas and a package of carrots. He glanced around to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone (as if they honestly would have noticed anything odd about the contents of his basket) before he made a beeline for the checkout.

20. It deepens and changes in color as it reaches the base of the penis and the scrotum.

It was about ninety degrees outside, and the pavement and air pollution did a good job of sucking up the heat of the sun and keeping it in the thick, heavy air. The hospital was, of course, much cooler – some areas more than others. The OR’s were kept somewhat chilly; the clinic and ER tended to lose much of the cooled air through nearly constant opening and closing of outside doors.

House hated winter clinic duty only slightly more than summer duty. During the winter months, the clinic was usually full, with people complaining about inexplicable muscle aches and joint pains, partial hearing loss and headaches, exhaustion and sinus pressure, and could it be meningitis? Because I looked it up online, and I have those symptoms, and am I going to die? He despised morons with the flu and an Internet connection.

Summers in the clinic weren’t as frantic, and the cases were much more exciting. Of course, that wasn’t saying much when the cases were up against the flu and the common cold. People came in with broken bones and home improvement injuries, and half of the time they were sent to the ER.

Today House had had his fill of idiots with hay fever who read something about autoimmune diseases being commonly misdiagnosed and thought they fit the symptoms perfectly. With a roll of his eyes and a biting remark, he usually assured them that they were imbeciles and they needn’t worry about being treated by the head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine.

He frowned at his next victim, a twenty-something man who sat with a blanket draped over his legs. The heat outside had mingled with the air-conditioned climate of the clinic, and while it wasn’t warm enough to be uncomfortable, it certainly wasn’t cold enough to be. House gestured to exam room 2 and raised an eyebrow when the man held the blanket tightly around himself as he walked into the room.

Closing the door, he looked at the chart that Nurse Brenda had handed to him and noted that the man’s complaint was an earache. He gave the man a once over and recognized the “I’m an idiot, and I know it” posture. At least this guy knew his place in life.

“I’m Dr. House. What seems to be the problem? Other than the earache, of course,” he added sardonically.

The man didn’t meet House’s eyes. “I don’t actually have an earache. I didn’t want to tell the lady at the desk.”

“So what’s wrong with your penis?” The man’s head shot up, a questioning look in his eyes. “It’s embarrassing enough that you couldn’t tell the nurse. You’re sitting, so you don’t have something stuck you-know-where. It could be your scrotum, but why would you need the blanket?”

The patient slowly pulled the blanket off his lap to reveal his penis… and his hand, which was wrapped around his penis. House felt his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, and his first reaction was to call security.

“I… uh…” the man started nervously, “accidentally got superglue on my hand instead of lube, and…”

House nodded slowly, his lips pressed in a thin, tight line to keep from laughing. He turned and grabbed the telephone receiver from the wall. “Yeah, I need Dr. Wilson for a consult in exam room 2.”

30. At the urethral opening, during arousal some men get wet with what’s commonly called pre-come.

House laid his head back on the pillow. His eyes fluttered shut, and his jaw went slack. He slowly stroked up and down the length of his erection. His free hand swept across his chest, ridges and calluses creating delicious friction on his sensitive nipples. He sped up his rhythmic stroking, and every few strokes he would circle the head with his thumb, spreading the pre-come.

His breath started to come in little gasps and shaky sighs. In his ears he could hear his blood surging. His heartbeat sounded like it was being amplified in a nearly empty locker room. His concentration was currently being spent almost entirely on the region just below his waist, which probably explained why he hadn’t answered the knocks on the door. But he was not so far gone that he missed the surprised gasp that came from his bedroom doorway.

His eyes shot open and met the wide eyes of Wilson. Their mouths were both frozen in soundless O’s. The matching looks of embarrassment and shock … and was that lust? … could have been comical to them in another situation. As it was, Wilson blinked rapidly a few times, muttered a quick, “Sorry,” and left (but not before House noticed the once-over).

40. Everyone worries about appearance, comparisons, and performance.

House stood in front of the mirror. He dried himself off quickly and carelessly and wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Taking in his reflection, he noted the light dusting of hair that spread across his chest. He ran his fingertips over the round, rough scar on his abdomen. A gunshot wound was not something he had expected, though in hindsight it wasn’t so surprising to him.

He turned sideways and sucked in his stomach. He had gained a little weight in the past few years but not as much as certain other doctors in the middle-age range (not that he was thinking about anyone in particular). His arms were muscular, a by-product of compensating for the missing muscle tissue in his leg.

He dropped the towel, and his eyes went to said leg. He was used to the scar by now. Though he very rarely wore shorts and thus was not often forced to take in the sight of his marred flesh, he had spent a significant amount of time to assess the damage in those first few months. No, the scar did not surprise him any longer, but when he imagined others seeing his leg, he still felt a tiny, usually well-suppressed twinge of low self-esteem deep within himself.

He shook his head violently to rid himself of that line of thought. He reminded himself that he didn’t care what people thought of him. Turning around, he looked over his shoulder to catch a glance of his ass in the mirror. He flexed and smiled slightly to himself. He might have been missing some of the strength and muscle that had once been in his right leg, but the rest of his body had made up for it well.

He picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist before limping to his bedroom. As he got dressed for work, he idly wondered what Wilson would think of his body.

50. We may see famous people that are attractive and imagine that our lives overlap.

“No, I’ve honestly never had a sexual fantasy about Matt Lauer.” Wilson was feeling an increasing sense of annoyance at House’s relentless questioning.

“Really? I would’ve pegged you as a Today Show kind of guy,” House said. “Of course you’ve thought about Katie Couric. Who hasn’t?”

“She’s not even on The Today Show anymore.”

“Aha!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t watch it. Watching does not equal having compulsive sexual fantasies about,” Wilson noted.

“Surely you have a man-crush on some famous guy,” House mused aloud. “Doctor shows, maybe. You’re ‘too good’ for General Hospital, but you probably watched ER back when it was still good … or what you would consider ‘good.’”

Wilson said nothing; he merely continued staring ahead at whatever inane program House had turned on.

“George Clooney?” House guessed. “Noah Wyle? No, they’re not even on it anymore, are they?” He tried to think of other medical shows. “Scrubs! The aptly named Dr. Cox. You’re attracted to his confidence, intelligence, sarcasm, bitterness, and animal magnetism.”

Wilson raised his eyebrows and looked at House pointedly, sending a clear “Shut the hell up” message, as if House would actually do so.

60. When it comes to unprotected fellatio, everyone involved is taking a risk of some kind.

“My throat hurts a little.” The young woman gazed at her clasped hands where they rested on her lap, studiously avoiding the doctor’s stare.

“And?”

“Um, my glands are kind of swollen, I think.”

House sighed and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He dutifully examined the teenager’s tonsillar lymph nodes, and finding no evidence of swelling, stepped away from the patient. “Okay, now I’ve examined you. What do you need? A doctor’s note for school?” He pulled the gloves from his hands and picked up the clipboard.

“What? No! Wait!” She finally made eye contact. “Please, I think I might have…” She trailed off but held House’s gaze with her own pleading eyes.

“What?” The girl seemed embarrassed. House was not above pushing the embarrassment up a notch if it would get an honest answer out of her. “Maybe I should call a colleague for a consult. You’d probably like him. He’s young, attractive, single…”

“No! I’ve got a boyfriend! That’s why I’m here… kind of…” She hesitated briefly. “He was having some … problems … and went to his doctor. She said he had gonorrhea, and she gave him some antibiotics. He was taking them, and it looked like he was better. We went out last week to see a movie … which one was it?” She trailed off, looking absently at the ceiling.

House snapped his fingers in front of her face, causing her to jump. “Don’t care!”

“Right, um, one thing led to another …”

“You slept with him.”

“No, I’m not that stupid! His doctor said not to have intercourse until he had a follow-up.”

“So what’s the problem?” House was past his patience limit for the day.

She looked at her hands again and mumbled, “I gave him head.”

“Unprotected.” It was a statement, House’s declaration clearly sounding more like “You’re a moron.”

“He had already been taking the antibiotics for two days!” This was apparently supposed to be a defense from the girl, but it matched House’s unspoken comment with an echo similar to “Yes, I am a moron.”

70. Additionally, that prepackaged lube almost always has silicone in it, which not only tastes disgusting but is also hard to get out of your mouth and can ruin some silicone dildos.

House stood in the small and nearly empty store, leaning on his cane with what he hoped was a menacing look on his face. His eyes flicked over the various boxes, bottles, and tubes before him. He wasn’t looking for condoms; he and Wilson had discussed that issue and had full blood checks for STIs before they had recently begun sleeping together.

Massage oils, lubricants, massage lotions, flavored lubricants, flavored massage oils… There were so many damn choices, and House hadn’t worried about this kind of thing for years. He had hoped he would see something perfect right away, but now he found himself looking closer at each product. Scents? Flavors? Oil or cream or lotion? Lubricant and massage oil in one? Self-heating?

Some of the product names were ridiculous. Boy Butter. Probe Lubricant. Adam and Eve Fruity Booty Anal Lube. Elbow Grease Cream. Hustler Think Pink Hot Pussy Potion.

The sheer number of flavors floored him. Cherry, strawberry, passion fruit, cinnamon, pina colada, and raspberry gave way to sex on the peach, strawberry daiquiri, sinful strawberry, and tropical teeze.

He could intensify his orgasms or desensitize his clitoris. He could warm or cool. There were silicone or water based lubes. There were massage creams, lotions and oils – some scented, some flavored. He was tempted to purchase Hot Hooters Warming Booby Oil, but if he wanted to get some before 2010, he’d have to find a subtler way of ribbing Wilson for his slight weight gain. Before he could think about how sad it was that Wilson now had an effective bargaining chip, a young salesgirl approached him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” She smiled innocuously, almost like Cameron but without the attitude she’d taken as of late.

I’m sure I can think of something you can help me with, he leered mentally. Realizing that this was not the place for sexual harassment (See, Wilson? I do have tact!), he told the girl what he wanted, and she helped him make a selection.

80. The best recourse for avoiding beard burn from our pubic region on a lover’s face is to either cover the stubble with a small towel or cover your pubic bone with your hand when your partner goes down on you—or shave again!

“Jesus, House! Lips and mouth – not cheeks! Don’t nuzzle!” Wilson grumbled, even as he let his head fall back on the headrest of his office couch.

House hummed softly and removed his lips from Wilson’s shaft. “I’m sorry; did you want me to stop?” he asked facetiously. Wilson’s head snapped up, and he met House’s eyes with a glare.

“Stop now and I’ll never write a Vicodin ‘script again.”

House’s eyes widened considerably, and he suppressed a sound of surprise. “Say no more, Doc.” He ducked his head back down and lapped his tongue from bottom to top along Wilson’s entire length.

“Gahhh,” Wilson groaned.

House swirled his tongue once around the crown of Wilson’s erection and flicked the tip of his tongue at the small drop of pre-come. Puckering his lips, he ran them down the side, now carefully avoiding any contact between Wilson’s penis and his own unshaven face. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked hard just one time, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from his friend’s throat.

He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath, lightly massaging Wilson’s inner thighs while he rested. His eyes drifted up to meet the soft brown eyes, which were now almost black. His breath caught in his throat when he took in Wilson’s expression. The younger man was breathing heavily through his open mouth and staring at him attentively with heavy-lidded eyes. His cheeks were a soft pink; his lips were red, swollen, wet as if he had been chewing on them to keep from crying out.

House inhaled deeply and slowly. Suddenly feeling emotional, he was surprised when the last part of his inhalation was shaky, almost as if he was sobbing. When he felt his eyes start to water, he decided to avoid examining his feelings by concentrating once again on Wilson’s pleasure.

His right hand grasped Wilson’s penis and stroked while he laved the oncologist’s testicles with his tongue. Wilson involuntarily bucked against his friend’s caresses, and House’s left hand went to Wilson’s hips to hold them down. He took that as his cue to return his attention to his friend’s erection.

Again he focused his efforts on the head area of the penis, where most of the nerves are located. With his lips covering the top of Wilson’s erection, he applied gentle suction and spun his tongue slowly and repeatedly around the head. He leaned his head closer to Wilson’s thigh and scraped his stubble on the skin.

“Aw, hell,” Wilson panted, unable to keep quiet or to keep his hands to himself any longer. He ran his fingers into House’s short hair – not to force him or to guide him, but to connect with him. He was careful not to thrust, though it was difficult for him when he felt House’s left hand gently caress his scrotum.

When House felt Wilson’s testicles start to draw up toward his body, he took a deep breath through his nose and took more of the erection into his mouth, never stopping the movement of his tongue on the underside of Wilson’s shaft. He moaned at the sounds Wilson was making, grunting and whimpering noises that gave House plenty of feedback. The vibration of his moan sent Wilson over the edge, and House barely tasted the semen as it hit the back of his tongue and throat. He did enjoy the feeling of the hot come searing down his esophagus like that first sip of vodka he’d had when he was a teenager. He rode out Wilson’s orgasm before pulling away and wiping the saliva off his lips with his sleeve. He sat back on his left heel and stared at his best friend.

Wilson’s head was resting against the back of the couch, and his jaw hung open. He was taking fast, shallow breaths, which eventually slowed down. He rolled his head around to meet House’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Wilson closed his eyes and licked his lips. He sat up straighter and pulled House back into his previous kneeling position, a tiny voice in the back of his mind idly wondering how much Vicodin House had taken to be able to maintain that position. But right now he didn’t care.

They were face to face, and Wilson ran the backs of his knuckles down House’s rough cheek. He didn’t trust his voice at this moment, and he could feel his eyes start to moisten. Slipping a hand behind his friend’s neck, he drew him into a deep kiss, into their first kiss.

190. When you’re good and mentholated, slip the lozenge between your cheek and gums.

Wilson was quite adept at covering his reactions with a blank, nonjudgmental doctor’s mask. Therefore, when the young man in the exam room pulled down his loose-fitting pajama pants, he knew his initial feelings of horror, sympathy, and relief (that it was this poor kid instead of him) were concealed.

He cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea what might have caused this?”

The guy was so worried that he looked like he was about to cry. Maybe he was. “Um, no. It was like this when I woke up this morning.”

“You told the nurse that you have no known allergies. Have you ever had any reaction to latex or silicone?” The patient shook his head. “Have you had any recent contact with anything unusual?”

“Um, like what?” The young man’s voice cracked.

“Any foods you’ve tried within the past two or three days? A new soap or lotion? New underwear or some other clothing item that you wore without washing it first?”

“No, none of that.”

Wilson snapped on a pair of latex gloves and examined the man’s penis. “It appears to be an allergic reaction. Your penis has had no recent contact with anything or anyone?”

“Well, uh,” the guy cleared his throat, “my girlfriend sucked me off last night, but it’s not the first time she’s done that! And I didn’t have the rash until today.”

Now it was Wilson’s turn to clear his own throat. “Did she use any specific tools or aids that were new?”

“Um, well, she was all tingly.”

This was another moment when Wilson was glad to have his poker face. “Could you please explain that a bit further?”

“I think she was using something minty. It was really pretty cool,” he laughed, suddenly not quite as nervous.

“Okay, we should probably find out if this is a salicylate allergy, as that will include several foods and products that you’ll need to avoid,” Wilson said, mentally counting the hours until the end of his shift.

200. Fellatio can happen virtually anywhere, and the sexual tension that stems from possible discovery is what gives a public encounter its heat.

“Ah, Jimmy… Oh, fuck!” House moaned. His right leg started to feel weak, and he tightened his grip on the metal bar so that it held more of his weight. He looked down at his feet and smiled almost drunkenly at the sight of a head of soft brown hair moving back and forth earnestly.

He hadn’t been surprised when Wilson showed up at his office late in the afternoon. They
often met up at the end of the day, their lame excuse being that they each wanted to know when the other man would be back at House’s apartment. No one could have gotten either doctor to admit any other reason to meet up with his best friend. It was purely logistical.

No, he wasn’t surprised to see Wilson. He had been mildly surprised when Wilson did not say anything but simply strode across the office with a purposeful look on his face. Wilson had grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. As soon as House stood and picked up his cane, Wilson was on his way out the door with his fingers still encircling House’s wrist.

Wilson had let go when they entered the hallway, but by that time House had received the clear message that he was to follow his friend. They had entered the empty elevator, and as soon as the doors were shut, Wilson had grabbed his shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him hungrily. Taken completely by surprise, House stood still with his eyes open wide before he calmed down and melted into Wilson’s embrace. Just as suddenly, Wilson pulled back and wiped his mouth.

The doors opened, and they were on the first floor. Wilson took off without a word, leaving a dazed House in the elevator. The doors started to close, and House snapped out of his trance, wondering how Wilson was killing all of his brain cells. He caught sight of Wilson and headed in that direction as quickly as he could.

Wilson finally slowed near the cafeteria. He led House into a dim corridor and through a “Maintenance Employees Only” door. House felt the warm evening air, stopping short when he realized that Wilson had brought him to one of the loading docks.

“Come on,” Wilson had ordered, again grabbing House’s wrist. He had led him around the dock to ground level and then down the ramp where semi trucks would dock. It wasn’t a terribly deep ramp, but there was a small ladder to one side, reaching up to ground level like a swimming pool ladder.

Now House found himself half-standing, half-sitting on the ladder, his arms supporting the weight that his good leg couldn’t. Part of him had wanted to laugh when he had seen Wilson drop a section of newspaper on the ground so he could kneel without getting his pants terribly dirty, but he could only make a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he had watched his lover drop to his knees.

“Fffffuck,” he breathed. He could feel his eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. “What if,” he sighed, “one of your,” he panted, “bald-headed,” he puffed, “tumor-ridden,” he breathed, “cancer kids,” he gasped, “wanders out here?”

Wilson smiled around the erection in his mouth and tried to chuckle, but it came out as a soft moan, eliciting a heavy sigh from his best friend. He held House’s ass tightly in his hands and angled his face so that he could reach House’s balls. He licked softly along the root of House’s penis, ran his tongue across House’s scrotum, and pressed a kiss to the smooth spot just behind the scrotum. His tongue came out to tease the area, and his left hand wrapped around House’s penis.

House whimpered, and Wilson loved it. He had only given House head a few times. At first he thought he would hate it, never having given head before. He found, however, that the power he felt and the sounds he drew out of House were intoxicating, addicting. He had been apprehensive about the taste, wondering if it would be as bad as he sometimes heard. He still hadn’t tried to swallow, hadn’t let House come in his mouth. When he had cleaned up after the last time, he covertly pressed the tip of his tongue to the towel he had used and discovered that the taste was not terribly pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. It was not a very strong taste at all, and he had inwardly decided that he would try to swallow the next time.

He again wrapped his mouth around House’s dick, hearing House sigh as the warmth of Wilson’s mouth enveloped his flesh. Wilson’s left hand stayed at the base of the penis, pumping in contrary motion with his mouth. His right hand went to House’s inner thigh, scratching lightly with his short fingernails. He sighed contentedly at the strangled noise that seemed to be trapped deep in House’s throat.

Releasing House’s erection for a quick moment, he coated his right middle finger with saliva, stealing a glance at the piercing blue eyes that were watching him intently. He smiled, hoping it was a predatory smile, before he took House’s penis in his mouth again. The wet finger passed by House’s scrotum, heading toward his entrance.

“Gah!” House cried, bucking his hips involuntarily. Wilson stayed with him, slowly working his finger into his lover, who groaned loudly. House’s eyes closed, and his eyebrows shot up as high as they could go. Wilson’s brain was almost at capacity, but he was dimly aware that the sounds House was making were similar to those he’d made when Ingrid gave him that massage. To Wilson’s ears, the noises he was hearing were more enthusiastic than those he’d heard a couple of years ago, and he felt strangely triumphant at that thought.

House was constantly moaning and grunting by the time Wilson felt him tense and heard him choke out a quick warning. It felt strange, he thought, to feel the throbbing sensation, which he had experienced so many times in his life, from the other side. A jerking, pulsating moment later, a few spurts of hot come landed on Wilson’s tongue. He tried not to think about the chemistry, or biology, of the liquid in his mouth; he knew that that would only make him feel uneasy. He pulled back and forced himself to swallow the strangely textured ejaculate. As he returned his mouth to House to clean up the rest of their mess, he enjoyed the warmth of his best friend’s love.