elliewood | Fic: The Plebe, Chapter 11

The Plebe, Chapter 11
Bedtime Stories, Part One -- Come Sail Away

“Was he pissed?”

Jim studied the wall in front of his face, as much as he could without focusing his eyes, an activity that had already proven itself to be its own peculiar form of agony. The pre-dawn dimness of their dorm room helped a little.

“I thought he was, at first. But he didn’t act like it.”

“Of course he didn’t act like it — “ The sentence concluded abruptly without one of Mitchell’s customary pejoratives, unspoken out of deference to Jim’s current condition, but he heard it anyway in the hollow, aching chamber of his skull. Dumbass.

As if to negate the tacit slur, Mitchell tightened his arm to pull him closer. “He’s a Vulcan. They feel on the inside, they don’t show their weakness.”

“How do you know they feel?”

“Doesn’t take a fucking genius. No offense.” Mitchell stifled a yawn, his breath warm in Jim’s hair, the rasp of his beard stubble against the fresh pillowcase a deafening torment. “What did he say? When he found you at Bam’s?”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed his face into the sheets to block out the growing light. “I really don’t remember.”

It seemed that lying to his friends was becoming his new hobby.

***

For the span of a few blissful seconds, Jim thought that Spock had mistaken him for someone else in the murky back hallway of Bambinelli’s; the sudden upshot of one slanted eyebrow relayed a brief but perceptible start as he rotated Jim to face him, the strained expression mellowing into a composure that he seemed unprepared to display. He dropped his hand from Jim’s shoulder and moved it to enfold its mate beneath the long black robe.

“Cadet. You should remove yourself from these premises straightaway. I will escort you to your dormitory.”

Jim shrank away from the prospect of being shepherded back across campus like a wayward calf. “That’s all right, I’m…we’re heading out now.”

"It would be a singularly unwise action on your part to depart with Mr. Finnegan. I must insist that I accompany you back to your room."

The words were spoken with a deliberate calm that, had the circumstances been different, Jim might have found disarming. But he knew what he’d seen in the grim line of Spock’s mouth and felt his back stiffen at the obvious disapproval.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

It was not the cool dismissal Jim would have preferred, the words wheezing from the strange slackness of his mouth without the conviction he was aiming for. Annoyed at himself, he pushed past Spock to stumble toward the door at the end of the shadowed hallway. Spock pivoted smoothly to let him let him pass and watched as Jim halted again, nonplussed at a brightly painted D on the rest room door.

"There is no need to take offense," he said to Jim’s back. "I merely remind you that it would be best for you to restrict your interactions with Mr. Finnegan to those of a professional nature. To reject his request for your companionship this evening, for instance."

Stunned, Jim spun to face Spock, indignation deepening the already high color of his cheeks.

"Wait...you've been spying on us?”

“Espionage was unnecessary.” Spock’s gaze was level. “The two of you were hardly discreet in your exhibition of sexual foreplay."

The neutral tone did nothing to mitigate the reproach of his words, made infuriatingly self-righteousness by the persistent vision of Barnett’s fingers stroking his hip. “You have," Jim said tightly, "absolutely no right to judge me."

"I do not judge. I merely observe and, when it is warranted, advise.”

“I don’t need your advice. I think I'm capable of choosing my own friends."

The raised eyebrow and the maddening uplift of one corner of Spock's mouth mocked his defensive reply. “Then you would do well to develop some degree of circumspection with respect to your friendships.”

“Circumspection?!” That word didn’t come out right, his mouth refusing to form correctly around it, but Jim didn’t care; the condescension had reached an intolerable level. “I’m not the one who’s sleeping with the commandant!”

It was hotly satisfying to feel his own self-control crack and even more so to see Spock’s lips tighten again in response. “My interactions with Admiral Barnett are none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it’s all right for us to be your concern? That’s not fair.”

“Fairness is not the issue. As a new recruit, you are ignorant of much of what transpires at the Academy. It is my responsibility as your instructor and superior officer to advise you as to the wisest course of action in any given situation. Devoting the remainder of your evening to Mr. Finnegan’s company is not advisable.”

“Well let me tell you, I don't give a…a fuck about your advice.” His hands had balled into fists at his sides; somewhere in his head, Mitchell roared with approving laughter at the adoption of his playbook. "I’m tired of you acting like you know better about everything and interfering with everything I want to do. So butt the fuck out and go mind your own business!"

Spock's eyes narrowed at Jim's rudeness. "Your personal affairs are indeed none of my concern, and I would prefer to know little, if anything, of them. But it becomes my business when the welfare of one of my students is endangered. I would not interfere unless that were the case."

"You haven’t got the right! My welfare isn't in any danger."

"Indeed it is. You plan to offer yourself to a person who would exploit your youth and inexperience, presumably for the express purpose of satisfying his own physical urges."

Jim’s mind stumbled at the bland but jarring statement, then recovered enough to deliver the counterpoint that had been simmering under his skin for too long to ignore anymore. “But you’re over there…” Jim jerked his head in what he hoped was the right direction, “…doing the exact same thing with Barnett! He’s like a hundred years older than you. And he’s your boss.”

“I have already warned you not to invoke my relationship with the Admiral, of which you know nothing.”

“Like you know everything?!” It was oddly euphoric, the sensation of his restraint shattering into pieces too small to gather back together. “Finn’s been a good friend to me and really helpful, he doesn’t exploit me, and he’s not going to exploit me, whatever you think. And he even defends you, he’s never said a mean word about you, he sticks up for you and your fucked-up grading and your fucked-up relationship, and he’s never asked for anything from me, he’s just helped me out of kindness. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that, you don’t get that, that people aren’t always calculating and selfish, that they can be nice to someone else without expecting payment.”

"On the contrary," Spock replied evenly. "He does expect payment, which you intend to remit tonight, in his rooms, after you leave here with him."

He pulled his arm back then, but the swing he aimed toward Spock's chin was defused by a quick seize of his wrist and a deft turn, his body spun by its own momentum to trap his right arm behind his back, his left arm grasped by the wrist as well and neatly pinned to his right collarbone. One firm push backward and he was against the wall, grimacing at the sudden pressure on his twisted arm and the imprisonment of his lower body by a well-placed foot and knee. He glared at Spock, panting, his flush of whiskey-fueled fury met by dark eyes so suddenly grave that his own eyes widened in surprise.

"Listen well," Spock said, his face mere inches from Jim's, his voice low. "If you are to bestow yourself on another, be certain it is truly your wish to do so. And that it is to one who accepts you not merely as compensation for services rendered, but as the gift that you are."

Jim found the one tiny shard of discretion that remained and bit back the protest that rose to his lips at Spock's words — no, that's not how it is, he's not like that. And as he dropped his gaze from the sternness of Spock's eyes to his tight-lipped frown, his breath rattling in his throat,

Are you to bestow yourself on another

he found a bit of stability in his careening mind, a still, dark slick of oil on the roiling waves of his thoughts, and he fastened on the recent memory, himself on the bar stool and Finn pushing between his knees, arms around him to keep him from toppling backward, his mouth icy cool and delicious as it explored Jim's, the bitter tang of the bourbon on his tongue masked by the sweetness of sugar and cream. And Jim watched himself for his own reaction, for some indication that the contact excited him as much as it did Finn, whose hands now roamed up Jim's back with undisguised eagerness to clutch and pull at the thin fabric of his shirt and whose groin, heavy and hard with need, now leaned urgently into his own.

Be certain that it is truly your wish to do so

And he could find no sign that it did, only a flicker of interest at the novelty of another man's mouth and hands on him and a gnawing guilt that he could only partially reciprocate Finn's affection.

no that's not how it is

As if he felt Jim's sudden regret, Finn pulled back slightly, his hands releasing their hold on his shirt to slide down to his waist and rest there lightly, his lips still on Jim's but his tongue retreating from its assault in mute apology. And as they rested there something changed, almost imperceptibly at first, just a slight warming of Finn's hands on his hips, the touch feather-light but steady. Then his lips softened, more pliant now and lush under Jim's, his kiss transforming from urgent demand to soft persuasion, until he pulled his mouth away at last to rest their foreheads together, their breaths puffing between them.

Be certain

And he felt his body become a conduit for the heat of Finn's hands, their warmth drifting upward from his hips to slow his breath and soothe the frantic thumping of his heart until it moved to envelope him completely, the bar stool beneath him dissolving as the rest of his surroundings quieted at last, the music and chatter fading into harmonious silence around him, the bothersome spinning of the room finally ceasing as it too melted away to leave him, his body now weightless and free, floating in the warm sea of his mind’s tranquility. And in that ocean of peace grew a joy at the unfamiliar feeling of complete acceptance, the assurance of a devotion that did not judge nor want anything in return, the utter absence of a desire for him to do anything other than continue to be who he already was. And that acceptance was almost unbearable, the buoyant ecstasy of being completely loved without the expectation of more than what was already being given.

Desire slammed into him then, the unexpected rush of blood and heat bringing a gasp of surprise as he felt himself swell, the physical response a reflection of what he had trained himself to conceal over the years of his short life, the tender parts of him that craved the affinity he now enjoyed in unlimited abundance.

Do you bestow yourself

And in the depths of the fluid heat surrounding him, something moved, great and slow as if unused to movement, twisting as it arose from the depths below to approach him as he floated and drift in lazy circles around him,

Do you bestow yourself

its heavy, dark body almost brushing his as it swam by, faster now, its tongue flicking out to scent him through the water, each contact a tiny jolt of electric delight.

Be certain it is your wish

He spread his arms and legs wide in the salty warmth that supported him, inviting the being to taste more of him

yes

and felt the creature rejoice, its desire penetrating the calm surrounding him, his own need surging as well until every cell in his body sang with elation. He could feel the heat of its body exciting his own skin into unbearable anticipation as it swam closer, his flesh growing harder than he thought could ever be possible, an unimaginable climax approaching to sweep over him. He arched his neck to open it in surrender, laughing as his head dropped backward…

…and struck the hard wall of the hallway behind him with a painful crack.

Startled by the sudden blow to his skull, Jim snapped his eyes open to find himself still trapped against the dank, grimy wall, his arms pinned against his body by Spock's hands on his wrists, the restaurant’s cacophony ringing in a head that shrank in pain from the abrupt return of noise and vertigo. He searched the face before him, noting the frown on Spock’s forehead, even deeper than before as his eyebrows nearly met across the bridge of his nose, his lips no longer set in a hard line but parted slightly as he stared back at Jim in shock.

A moment later, he understood the reason for Spock’s astonishment: like evaporating seawater, the hallucination had left behind a remnant, the unmistakeable evidence of his arousal, still eager and hard and pressed up now against the knee that pinned him to the wall.

oh NO

“It is well, child. Do not fear.”

The hand on his left wrist moved slightly, the fingers pressing gently on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and he felt himself falling forward into Spock’s arms, his senses deadening, his last thought one of dismay at the retribution he knew would accompany his awakening.

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