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fatima这文是和着夏川りみ的《愛よ愛よ》和《Moulin Rouge》的《Lady Marmalade》写出来的。对此我也觉得很OTL……
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st_xi_kink request filled: 4 times Spock was propositioned and declined (logically, of course) and the 1 time he accepted (also logically). My thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dissociate for the beta and general assistance.
Note: "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)" is a French phrase popularized by the song "Lady Marmalade", first sung by the group Labelle and later featured in the movie Moulin Rogue. It means "Do you want to sleep with me (tonight)?" Given the prompt, I thought it was, well, fitting.
Title: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (+T'Pring)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,349
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?
by Renata Lord (snowlight)
*
i. James T. Kirk
In retrospect, he shouldn't have told Kirk about his knowledge of the Ambassador. If he didn't, his commanding officer certainly would not feel comfortable in coming on to him with a confession based on a mindmeld with his...non-future-self, as it were.
The silver lining was that they were both drenched in alcohol, and from his experience, this generally meant it that would all blow over tomorrow morning.
"Captain," Spock said with immaculate propriety, "although I am indeed surprised to learn about the nature of our association in an alternative universe, I must remind you—it's exactly just that. There is no logical constant between the two universes."
Kirk nodded and didn't argue. They downed another bottle of Romulan ale after that, because they needed it for the coming morning. For Kirk's sake, Spock decided to not inform him that alcohol doesn't really work on Vulcans.
*
ii. T'Pring
As soon as he saw her walking through that door, Spock understood why he was being recalled back to Vulcan Beta.
Truth be told, it wasn't an unpleasant prospect, but something about it troubled him greatly. This was not the same T'Pring he remembered from a shared childhood, the one with nimble fingers sliding across the lute. The princess' eyes had hardened, and her dignified air carried no warmth. He understood why, but could say nothing in the face of Vulcan pride.
The room was spacious enough, but her presence filled it. She sat across from him and, after regarding him intently for a while, extended out her hand wordlessly.
Instead of taking it, he stood up and bowed.
"My lady, as you still indulge me with the privilege of calling you a friend, you would surely understand that I cannot allow myself to contribute to your distress."
T'Pring's body went very still. She did not retract the gesture.
"We act in accordance with duty and necessity. The times and places have changed, Spock. It's only logical."
Spock noted that she didn't refer to the deed by name, as if out of shame. Still, he considered her argument carefully. He owed it to his people.
"It would have been logical, my lady. But I, too, have changed."
T'Pring did not look upset when she took back her hand.
*
iii. Kana Ashlen
Given the nature of Enterprise's missions, it was no coincidence that its officers had been to a lot of diplomatic functions. The Vulcan first officer had also been noticed and propositioned to on a number of occasions, especially after words got out that he had became single and thus very, very eligible (think endangered-species status).
None of the propositions, however, came out quite as blunt as this.
"I would like to see you after the event, Commander. You will find me most pleasing in bed." The Ambassador's aide smiled at him over a glass of cocktail, as if he was requesting a copy of the security plan. He had a handsome face with a certain boyish charm, golden as honey.
Spock remembered the young man's name to be Kana Ashlen. They had met a few times during the conference's course but exchanged no more than five sentences. He was thankful for the nakedness of the request, however, because now he didn't have to think of a way to cloak his response in polite language.
"I must decline."
Ashlen actually frowned as if he did not expect this.
"I had a faint but very much unmistakable impression that you were physically attracted to me, Commander Spock." He spoke Standard with a distinct accent. "As I am also highly interested in you, I see no reason why we shouldn't explore the possibility further."
"You were mistaken," he replied flatly and started to walk away.
"I don't think so," the young man moved fast. Entirely too fast for a human, in fact. Blue eyes peered at him from beneath the thick blond eyelashes, and for a split second he thought he saw someone else. Most illogical. But those eyes wouldn't let him go. They held him in place, almost mesmerized.
"You like the blueness of these eyes, Commander. Regrettably it comes from contact lenses, which I wear because I'm a Betazoid. Surely you realize what this means."
He heard himself answer automatically, "It means that you are a natural telepath, Mr. Ashlen. Given your post assignment, I would suspect that your psionic ability is exceptional even when measured against your own kind."
"Precisely. So when I say that you harbor a physical attraction for me, even without touching you, it is the exact truth, one that may be submitted as expert evidence in all the Federation courts. You may choose to not act upon your desire, but I must ask that you do not besmirch my professional reputation by denying its existence."
Game point and Spock knew when he lost a match. He wasn't accustomed to losing, but he wasn't the kind to get hurt over it, either. That would have been human. Both Vulcan and Betazoid culture valued honesty, at least.
"I stand corrected, Mr. Ashlen. However, what you detect is merely an echo of something highly illogical and, as such, cannot be consummated."
The young man shrugged and regarded him with something akin to pity. Betazoid culture also, Spock remembered, valued freely given love.
"Illogical, my dear Commander, is not the same thing as non-existent."
*
iv. Jim (again)
When the Enterprise bridge received the news that Mrs. Winona Kirk had passed away, Jim Kirk didn't say a thing. Nobody did. For a while the captain just sat in the chair, staring into the space blankly. All eyes were on him, but his eyes had no focus.
The Vulcan moved to stand by his captain's side, hands behind his back. After a while, Jim seemed to have noticed.
"Spock?" he asked, eyes still fixated at the ether.
"Yes, captain."
"Walk with me."
Spock complied immediately and set off after Kirk after a short nod to Sulu. It was another two minutes—leaving the bridge passing the mess hall and down to the exercise center—before Jim said, "Come with me, for the funeral."
It wasn't a request.
Five days later, after the coffin had been lowered into the ground, Spock realized that in the eyes of humans Vulcans must have made lousy funeral mourners. More than one person also gave them the odd look when Jim introduced him as his first officer. Apparently, this was a family event. He just wasn't sure what did that make him.
Spock was glad he came, though. For some parts of the day, Jim looked like he was sleepwalking. And when he was alert, there was a jittery energy about him, like he was trying very hard not to lash out and punch something. When the late Mrs. Kirk's last husband delivered that overtly long eulogy at the service, Jim's fingers dug into his arm, hard.
A part of him quietly evaluated his captain's psychological state and its associated implication with regards to resuming active duty. Another part of him, however, felt a perverse sense of pride that Jim allowed him to see this side of Starfleet's golden child. Dr. McCoy once told him that it's a nice thing to have somebody to worry about, and now he was beginning to understand why.
He wondered if that truly made him family to the man now lying two feet away from him on the bed, breathing heavily into the 0200 hour. It was fortunate that Vulcans required so little sleep.
"Jim," he finally said at 0330.
"Yeah," the human's voice was thick.
"I believe it's socially acceptable to cry, on an occasion like this."
Jim didn't bother to put on the bravado for him, at least. His captain turned to him in the darkness and asked, "Did you?"
For a moment he wished he could say yes, but his people didn't tell those kinds of lies.
"I'm a Vulcan."
"And this, Spock, is why I fucking hate you sometimes." Yet all the same, a hand reached out to him, disconcertingly cool and slightly damp from sweat. Spock took it in both hands, and suddenly Jim's full body was on him with a fury—fingers snaking all over the place, writhing and clawing and seeking, although for what he could not say. Human emotions were messy affairs, weren't they? He tried to keep still and let Jim take what he wanted, until unsteady hands tugged his sleeping pants and struggled to get them off him.
He didn't say no, even then. Instead he lifted the hands off his body and placed them on the bed sheets, as gently as possible. Jim kicked him once on the shins, but that was it.
"Emotionally compromised" was probably not the most appropriate thing to say at this moment, nor was "impaired judgment". So he simply murmured "you need to rest" into the damp hair, still holding the body slumped against him.
Jim seemed too exhausted to argue against the facts. He rolled off Spock, lightly pressing their bodies side by side. His hand stubbornly clutched onto Spock's chest, though, and Spock was fine with that.
"Spock, you know that if you ever told anybody about any of this I'd have to kill you, right?"
He was relieved to hear the unstable rage gone from that voice at last. He brought up his hand to touch the human's face in a gesture of reassurance, only to realize that Jim was already out cold, arm still draped over him and all.
It was really fortunate that Vulcans required so little sleep, because he spent that whole night eyes open, listening to Jim's breathing for possible nightmares.
*
v. Jim (kind of)
They have learned a great deal about each other during their regular chess time, but the next surprise is always there.
For example, Spock actually arches an eyebrow when Jim reveals that he joined the Starfleet Academy Xenolinguistics Club to better pick up women—"You wouldn't believe how many girls would fall for the same 'hey baby you look so fine' line in their own language. Even when it's humans, any Standard dialect would work."
Spock moves his Knight piece to the top plane. "I fail to see the reason for attachment for a particular language in a sexual situation."
Obviously Spock has never looked into Instructor Ouyang's dark eyes and told her "Laoshi ni tai piaoliang le", but Kirk isn't about to tell him that. Grinning, he decides to stick to the middle plane for now. "Spock, I can't believe you can't appreciate the exotic appeal of foreign languages. 'Ik-un bela-rik ak min'? 'Ollatareng maafeyn JemQu orinda'j'?"
"Regrettably, my knowledge of both Orion and Efrosian is rudimentary at best." The chess master replies somewhat stiffly after a while, still considering his next move. It's a rare enough triumph that makes Jim feeling like pushing his luck.
"Tell me you have at least heard the magical phrase 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?'" He leans over the board and ghosts over Spock's hand, fingers settling on the Queen piece that's resting in Spock's palm. Spock looks up at him with suddenly startled, eyes bewildered and unreadable.
He probably shouldn't be having this much fun playing out a seduction skit at the expense of one clueless Vulcan, but he is. For best effect Jim Kirk smiles again and does his most come-hither bedroom eyes. His fingers brush against the tip of Spock's nail, just slightly.
"So what do you think, Spock? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
Spock looks at him for a long moment. Jim watches as confusion fades from the Vulcan's countenance. Spock's lips moved—twisted—before he moves the Queen away with a distinct thud.
"Comme vous voulez."
He stares blankly at Spock, trying and failing in an attempt at speech. Vulcans aren't supposed to know how to joke, right? Especially this one, who's motioning to the chessboard and saying, of all things, "Jim, your turn."
"You are…not serious." That's the only conclusion he can bear to make right now. No other alternative possible.
"You insult me, captain." Spock gazes straight at him, calm and collected as ever. "You have not made your move after my previous one. I did understand your proposition and answered accordingly. And my mother's family once resided in France. That should answer all of your questions, I believe."
"…you are serious," he breathes and reaches out for Spock's fingers, staring in disbelief when Spock doesn't move away. He trembles a little at the majesty of this feeling, the sheer weight of it. A pawn is knocked onto the floor but neither of them is even looking at the game at this point.
He's just amazed at how very soft and warm Spock is. It's almost unreal.
"You aren't going to cite Starfleet regulations?" He asks in spite of himself.
"No such regulation exists. I've checked. Twice."
"You aren't going to tell me—I don't know, something like you need to repopulate your race and can't waste your time on a guy?"
"I appreciate your concern, captain, but as you humans would put it, that ship has long sailed."
"What about all that crap you said about how there's no logical constant between the two universes?"
"Jim, that does not preclude the existence of a coincidence." Spock's tone is, God forbid, amused. "As you can see, I no longer perceive any logical reason to oppose your proposition."
Jim Kirk pushes his luck for one last time, because not only is he one lucky bastard, he's also a greedy one who wants everything to begin perfect, without any doubt or question.
"And you aren't gonna say that we shouldn't risk messing up what we have, just because we wanna fuck?"
That earns him another arched eyebrow. "No, I must say that scenario never occurred to me. Nor do I see the merit of it."
"Well, Mr. Spock, if you insist…"
"I rather do, Jim," Spock leans down and puts the pawn piece back to its position. "Let's first finish the game, shall we? Six moves until checkmate. Your turn."
*
Finis
st_xi_kink request filled: 4 times Spock was propositioned and declined (logically, of course) and the 1 time he accepted (also logically). My thanks to dissociate for the beta and general assistance.Note: "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)" is a French phrase popularized by the song "Lady Marmalade", first sung by the group Labelle and later featured in the movie Moulin Rogue. It means "Do you want to sleep with me (tonight)?" Given the prompt, I thought it was, well, fitting.
Title: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (+T'Pring)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,349
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?
by Renata Lord (
snowlight)*
i. James T. Kirk
In retrospect, he shouldn't have told Kirk about his knowledge of the Ambassador. If he didn't, his commanding officer certainly would not feel comfortable in coming on to him with a confession based on a mindmeld with his...non-future-self, as it were.
The silver lining was that they were both drenched in alcohol, and from his experience, this generally meant it that would all blow over tomorrow morning.
"Captain," Spock said with immaculate propriety, "although I am indeed surprised to learn about the nature of our association in an alternative universe, I must remind you—it's exactly just that. There is no logical constant between the two universes."
Kirk nodded and didn't argue. They downed another bottle of Romulan ale after that, because they needed it for the coming morning. For Kirk's sake, Spock decided to not inform him that alcohol doesn't really work on Vulcans.
*
ii. T'Pring
As soon as he saw her walking through that door, Spock understood why he was being recalled back to Vulcan Beta.
Truth be told, it wasn't an unpleasant prospect, but something about it troubled him greatly. This was not the same T'Pring he remembered from a shared childhood, the one with nimble fingers sliding across the lute. The princess' eyes had hardened, and her dignified air carried no warmth. He understood why, but could say nothing in the face of Vulcan pride.
The room was spacious enough, but her presence filled it. She sat across from him and, after regarding him intently for a while, extended out her hand wordlessly.
Instead of taking it, he stood up and bowed.
"My lady, as you still indulge me with the privilege of calling you a friend, you would surely understand that I cannot allow myself to contribute to your distress."
T'Pring's body went very still. She did not retract the gesture.
"We act in accordance with duty and necessity. The times and places have changed, Spock. It's only logical."
Spock noted that she didn't refer to the deed by name, as if out of shame. Still, he considered her argument carefully. He owed it to his people.
"It would have been logical, my lady. But I, too, have changed."
T'Pring did not look upset when she took back her hand.
*
iii. Kana Ashlen
Given the nature of Enterprise's missions, it was no coincidence that its officers had been to a lot of diplomatic functions. The Vulcan first officer had also been noticed and propositioned to on a number of occasions, especially after words got out that he had became single and thus very, very eligible (think endangered-species status).
None of the propositions, however, came out quite as blunt as this.
"I would like to see you after the event, Commander. You will find me most pleasing in bed." The Ambassador's aide smiled at him over a glass of cocktail, as if he was requesting a copy of the security plan. He had a handsome face with a certain boyish charm, golden as honey.
Spock remembered the young man's name to be Kana Ashlen. They had met a few times during the conference's course but exchanged no more than five sentences. He was thankful for the nakedness of the request, however, because now he didn't have to think of a way to cloak his response in polite language.
"I must decline."
Ashlen actually frowned as if he did not expect this.
"I had a faint but very much unmistakable impression that you were physically attracted to me, Commander Spock." He spoke Standard with a distinct accent. "As I am also highly interested in you, I see no reason why we shouldn't explore the possibility further."
"You were mistaken," he replied flatly and started to walk away.
"I don't think so," the young man moved fast. Entirely too fast for a human, in fact. Blue eyes peered at him from beneath the thick blond eyelashes, and for a split second he thought he saw someone else. Most illogical. But those eyes wouldn't let him go. They held him in place, almost mesmerized.
"You like the blueness of these eyes, Commander. Regrettably it comes from contact lenses, which I wear because I'm a Betazoid. Surely you realize what this means."
He heard himself answer automatically, "It means that you are a natural telepath, Mr. Ashlen. Given your post assignment, I would suspect that your psionic ability is exceptional even when measured against your own kind."
"Precisely. So when I say that you harbor a physical attraction for me, even without touching you, it is the exact truth, one that may be submitted as expert evidence in all the Federation courts. You may choose to not act upon your desire, but I must ask that you do not besmirch my professional reputation by denying its existence."
Game point and Spock knew when he lost a match. He wasn't accustomed to losing, but he wasn't the kind to get hurt over it, either. That would have been human. Both Vulcan and Betazoid culture valued honesty, at least.
"I stand corrected, Mr. Ashlen. However, what you detect is merely an echo of something highly illogical and, as such, cannot be consummated."
The young man shrugged and regarded him with something akin to pity. Betazoid culture also, Spock remembered, valued freely given love.
"Illogical, my dear Commander, is not the same thing as non-existent."
*
iv. Jim (again)
When the Enterprise bridge received the news that Mrs. Winona Kirk had passed away, Jim Kirk didn't say a thing. Nobody did. For a while the captain just sat in the chair, staring into the space blankly. All eyes were on him, but his eyes had no focus.
The Vulcan moved to stand by his captain's side, hands behind his back. After a while, Jim seemed to have noticed.
"Spock?" he asked, eyes still fixated at the ether.
"Yes, captain."
"Walk with me."
Spock complied immediately and set off after Kirk after a short nod to Sulu. It was another two minutes—leaving the bridge passing the mess hall and down to the exercise center—before Jim said, "Come with me, for the funeral."
It wasn't a request.
Five days later, after the coffin had been lowered into the ground, Spock realized that in the eyes of humans Vulcans must have made lousy funeral mourners. More than one person also gave them the odd look when Jim introduced him as his first officer. Apparently, this was a family event. He just wasn't sure what did that make him.
Spock was glad he came, though. For some parts of the day, Jim looked like he was sleepwalking. And when he was alert, there was a jittery energy about him, like he was trying very hard not to lash out and punch something. When the late Mrs. Kirk's last husband delivered that overtly long eulogy at the service, Jim's fingers dug into his arm, hard.
A part of him quietly evaluated his captain's psychological state and its associated implication with regards to resuming active duty. Another part of him, however, felt a perverse sense of pride that Jim allowed him to see this side of Starfleet's golden child. Dr. McCoy once told him that it's a nice thing to have somebody to worry about, and now he was beginning to understand why.
He wondered if that truly made him family to the man now lying two feet away from him on the bed, breathing heavily into the 0200 hour. It was fortunate that Vulcans required so little sleep.
"Jim," he finally said at 0330.
"Yeah," the human's voice was thick.
"I believe it's socially acceptable to cry, on an occasion like this."
Jim didn't bother to put on the bravado for him, at least. His captain turned to him in the darkness and asked, "Did you?"
For a moment he wished he could say yes, but his people didn't tell those kinds of lies.
"I'm a Vulcan."
"And this, Spock, is why I fucking hate you sometimes." Yet all the same, a hand reached out to him, disconcertingly cool and slightly damp from sweat. Spock took it in both hands, and suddenly Jim's full body was on him with a fury—fingers snaking all over the place, writhing and clawing and seeking, although for what he could not say. Human emotions were messy affairs, weren't they? He tried to keep still and let Jim take what he wanted, until unsteady hands tugged his sleeping pants and struggled to get them off him.
He didn't say no, even then. Instead he lifted the hands off his body and placed them on the bed sheets, as gently as possible. Jim kicked him once on the shins, but that was it.
"Emotionally compromised" was probably not the most appropriate thing to say at this moment, nor was "impaired judgment". So he simply murmured "you need to rest" into the damp hair, still holding the body slumped against him.
Jim seemed too exhausted to argue against the facts. He rolled off Spock, lightly pressing their bodies side by side. His hand stubbornly clutched onto Spock's chest, though, and Spock was fine with that.
"Spock, you know that if you ever told anybody about any of this I'd have to kill you, right?"
He was relieved to hear the unstable rage gone from that voice at last. He brought up his hand to touch the human's face in a gesture of reassurance, only to realize that Jim was already out cold, arm still draped over him and all.
It was really fortunate that Vulcans required so little sleep, because he spent that whole night eyes open, listening to Jim's breathing for possible nightmares.
*
v. Jim (kind of)
They have learned a great deal about each other during their regular chess time, but the next surprise is always there.
For example, Spock actually arches an eyebrow when Jim reveals that he joined the Starfleet Academy Xenolinguistics Club to better pick up women—"You wouldn't believe how many girls would fall for the same 'hey baby you look so fine' line in their own language. Even when it's humans, any Standard dialect would work."
Spock moves his Knight piece to the top plane. "I fail to see the reason for attachment for a particular language in a sexual situation."
Obviously Spock has never looked into Instructor Ouyang's dark eyes and told her "Laoshi ni tai piaoliang le", but Kirk isn't about to tell him that. Grinning, he decides to stick to the middle plane for now. "Spock, I can't believe you can't appreciate the exotic appeal of foreign languages. 'Ik-un bela-rik ak min'? 'Ollatareng maafeyn JemQu orinda'j'?"
"Regrettably, my knowledge of both Orion and Efrosian is rudimentary at best." The chess master replies somewhat stiffly after a while, still considering his next move. It's a rare enough triumph that makes Jim feeling like pushing his luck.
"Tell me you have at least heard the magical phrase 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?'" He leans over the board and ghosts over Spock's hand, fingers settling on the Queen piece that's resting in Spock's palm. Spock looks up at him with suddenly startled, eyes bewildered and unreadable.
He probably shouldn't be having this much fun playing out a seduction skit at the expense of one clueless Vulcan, but he is. For best effect Jim Kirk smiles again and does his most come-hither bedroom eyes. His fingers brush against the tip of Spock's nail, just slightly.
"So what do you think, Spock? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
Spock looks at him for a long moment. Jim watches as confusion fades from the Vulcan's countenance. Spock's lips moved—twisted—before he moves the Queen away with a distinct thud.
"Comme vous voulez."
He stares blankly at Spock, trying and failing in an attempt at speech. Vulcans aren't supposed to know how to joke, right? Especially this one, who's motioning to the chessboard and saying, of all things, "Jim, your turn."
"You are…not serious." That's the only conclusion he can bear to make right now. No other alternative possible.
"You insult me, captain." Spock gazes straight at him, calm and collected as ever. "You have not made your move after my previous one. I did understand your proposition and answered accordingly. And my mother's family once resided in France. That should answer all of your questions, I believe."
"…you are serious," he breathes and reaches out for Spock's fingers, staring in disbelief when Spock doesn't move away. He trembles a little at the majesty of this feeling, the sheer weight of it. A pawn is knocked onto the floor but neither of them is even looking at the game at this point.
He's just amazed at how very soft and warm Spock is. It's almost unreal.
"You aren't going to cite Starfleet regulations?" He asks in spite of himself.
"No such regulation exists. I've checked. Twice."
"You aren't going to tell me—I don't know, something like you need to repopulate your race and can't waste your time on a guy?"
"I appreciate your concern, captain, but as you humans would put it, that ship has long sailed."
"What about all that crap you said about how there's no logical constant between the two universes?"
"Jim, that does not preclude the existence of a coincidence." Spock's tone is, God forbid, amused. "As you can see, I no longer perceive any logical reason to oppose your proposition."
Jim Kirk pushes his luck for one last time, because not only is he one lucky bastard, he's also a greedy one who wants everything to begin perfect, without any doubt or question.
"And you aren't gonna say that we shouldn't risk messing up what we have, just because we wanna fuck?"
That earns him another arched eyebrow. "No, I must say that scenario never occurred to me. Nor do I see the merit of it."
"Well, Mr. Spock, if you insist…"
"I rather do, Jim," Spock leans down and puts the pawn piece back to its position. "Let's first finish the game, shall we? Six moves until checkmate. Your turn."
*
Finis
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Date: 2009-06-26 01:11 pm (UTC)I loved this scene. Captured me. I tend to enjoy everything you've posted so far. :)