the_deep_magic | FIC: Star Trek XI -- Reverse the Polarities

the_deep_magic

Title: Reverse the Polarities

Author: the_deep_magic

Pairing: Kirk/girl!Spock

Word Count: 2,344

Rating: NC-17

Warning: het (ish)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm not making any money.

Summary: “Captain, I believe our current circumstances warrant some… scientific exploration.”

A/N: Obligatory genderswap porn. No plot whatsoever.

Does it really matter how it happened?

There was a transporter involved, and a planet with an unusually strong electromagnetic field. Kirk isn’t really clear on the specifics – possibly there were ions involved, or quarks. Maybe even gluons, who knows? Kirk really prefers to leave technical matters dealing with anything smaller than a toaster oven to his brilliant engineering crew, who he is confident will find a way to reverse this little snafu in time.

Kirk is not, however, confident in his ability to remain upright with so little blood left in his brain as a direct consequence of his first-officer-slash-bedmate Mr. Spock materializing on the transporter platform as Ms. Spock. Once Scotty stopped swearing long enough to breathe, he got right to work on the problem, and Bones ran all the basic scans and pronounced Spock to be in perfect health, if now technically a woman.

“I think you mean lady,” said Kirk. Bones threw a tongue depressor at his head.

Point is, things have gone on like normal. There were some serious stares as Spock walked on to the bridge, and Chekov giggled like a little girl until Sulu smacked him upside the back of the head, but Spock had merely to issue a single command and everyone went right back to work. Kirk heard Sulu mutter “Only Spock could turn into a woman and make it look boring.”

Sulu – though an excellent pilot, a top-notch fencer, and a passable karaoke singer – is very, very wrong. Kirk has only a brief second to contemplate just how wrong Sulu is before Spock, in all his female glory, has Kirk pinned to the wall of his quarters. Spock is a bit shorter, though still tall for a woman, slender, but still possessing full Vulcan strength. Spock also has her (Kirk has to switch to the feminine pronoun in order to conserve what little brainpower he has left) tongue down Jim’s throat.

Thankfully, he doesn’t even have to try to keep his hands to himself – Spock is pressing back greedily into his touch and Jim can’t get enough. It’s not so much that Kirk has missed breasts, not with so much else to keep him busy. It’s just that this new-model Spock has the same big, sexy brain and sharp tongue, but also comes fully equipped with a soft, perfect pair of breasts. They’re small to match her slender frame, but they fit perfectly in Kirk’s hands and she shivers a little whenever his thumbs brush over her nipples through the fabric.

She pulls back from the kiss, and Spock’s usual growl is now a purr in her mouth. “Captain, I believe our current circumstances warrant some… scientific exploration.” She drags Jim over to the desk, perches herself on the edge, and pushes Jim to kneel between her spread legs.

Goddamn – if even half the crew knew how dirty Spock was, there’d be a line outside his quarters every night and Kirk would have to chase them off with a phaser (he would not set that fucker to stun, either). Spock’s been a woman for a little over an hour, and she’s already got Jim on his knees, mouth watering at the thought of tasting her. The spare uniform she’s wearing is a little too short already, and it slides easily up her pale thighs and holy fuck, Jim is almost certain this is some kind of incredibly detailed hallucination, because it looks like she wasn’t able to borrow any panties on short notice.

He glances up at Spock, who looks mildly amused at Jim’s astonishment. “Spock, if this is some kind of dream, don’t wake me up until I’ve made you come at least twice. At least.”

But she just quirks her lip in a way that’s equal parts arousing and irritating, and Jim figures if this were a dream, his brain would have wiped out the irritating bit. Which makes this situation another kind of crazy all together, because this is Spock with her legs spread wantonly in front of him. She’s so wet already, and Jim breathes in the scent of her, a little sharper maybe, but still Spock. He runs his hands up her long, perfect legs, draping her knees over his shoulders

“Let’s hope I still remember how to do this,” he says with an arrogant smirk.

Spock’s eyebrow forms its familiar arch. “You do not appear to be experiencing any anxiety over the matter.”

Kirk’s grin just widens as he leans in for the kill. This part he has missed, the fun and the challenge of it. Not that a blowjob doesn’t require its own set of skills, but this is an art form and – no exaggeration – Jim is right up there with Michelangelo and Van Gogh. There’s no mysterious, arcane knowledge involved, just a hell of a lot of practice and dedication to the craft. And if there’s one thing that’s for sure, it’s that Jim Kirk is damn good at the things he loves to do.

He starts off slow, letting his hands drift over Spock’s legs, nuzzling the soft skin of her thighs, lightly blowing air across her cleft until she spreads even wider, shifting closer to the edge of the desk and twisting one hand in his hair to guide him where she wants him. Spock has always been uncharacteristically impatient when it comes to sex – can’t repress animal instincts for that long without some kind of side effects – and it stands to reason that female Spock is no different. When he flicks his tongue out to taste her, she gasps and her fingers clench tight in his hair. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

It’s so easy to tease her with soft kisses to her thighs, her outer lips, alternated with long, deep licks that make her hips push off the desk. She’s leaning back on both hands now, making these high, breathy sounds that Jim’s never heard before, and they’re fascinating. He thinks about saying this, but as soon as he pulls his mouth away from her, Spock shoots him a look that promises injury or death if he doesn’t keep going.

God, she’s so responsive, too. Not loud or demanding, of course, but so appreciative of each new sensation, each twist and flick of Jim’s tongue. He wants to stay down here forever, but sadly, Scotty is a damned genius and they’ve got so much to do before this insane, wonderful accident of time and space rights itself. When he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, he has to use his hands to brace her hips, which buck hard as she comes. Jim draws it out as long as he can, glorying in her sweet, barely audible mewls and her juices dripping down his chin. It’s fucking decadent, is what it is, and his is so doing this again before she gets back on that transporter pad.

Spock’s still breathing hard as she yanks Jim to his feet by the collar of his uniform, her eyes black with lust and Jim’s stripping as fast as he can, clumsily tugging off shirt and pants as Spock neatly slithers out of her dress. She’s wearing nothing but boots now, and when she bends to take those off, Jim actually whimpers. He drops to his knees yet again to help her with the boots, then rushes to join her on the bed so quickly he nearly trips over his own feet.

He tries to stay on top, but she flips him and straddles him so tidily that Jim is in immediate danger of coming right then. He’s always gotten off on Spock’s strength, but being manhandled so easily by this slender, elegant woman might just kill him from lack of blood to the brain. “What, ah god—” She leans forward over him, her hips so close to his that her mound presses his leaking cock against his stomach. “What do you want?”

Spock just smiles that perfect little not-smile and rises up on her knees, gripping Jim’s cock with sure fingers and slowly – fuck, so slowly – sinking down on to him. He fights his body’s instinct to shut his eyes and focus on the pleasure in order to watch. In male form, Spock usually tops, and Jim wouldn’t have it any other way, but something about watching Spock’s impossibly hot body slowly envelop his cock is making Jim crazy. She’s so tight and wet that he has to run Starfleet emergency response protocol in his head to keep from losing it.

After what feels like hours, she starts to rock against him, tiny back and forth movements that force the breath out of his lungs. Her eyes are shut, but she’s flushed a deep green and Jim can see her eyes darting under closed lids. He suddenly finds that he needs to see her, see Spock’s dark, expressive eyes sweeping over him like a physical touch.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. He flicks a thumb over her nipple and her eyes snap open, boring into him. Jim holds her a little tighter, working the hardening bud between thumb and forefinger as he lets all his desire, all his raw human want flow through the telepathic connection between their skin, and this is what finally draws a soft gasp from Spock, and she rises up on her knees and begins to ride him for real.

He reaches down to touch her, but she bats his hand away to do it herself, and fuck, if Spock wants to ride him while working her own fingers roughly over her clit, Jim Kirk will damn well lie back and appreciate the show. When she finally settles on the right rhythm and her body starts to tremble, Jim clenches the muscles in his ass, giving her something hard to work against. She’s close, oh god, so close, and this time when Kirk brings his hands up, she doesn’t push them away. He tilts her back just a little, helping her find just the right angle so that his cock rubs against the sweet spot inside of her with every thrust, and between that and the frantic motion of her fingers, she’s coming again, even harder this time, rippling wildly around Jim’s cock.

He finally snaps, and she’s still pulsing hot and tight around him as he flips her over, drawing a quiet oh of surprise and goddammit, he is going to make a moan come out of that sweet, feminine mouth if he has to cripple himself doing it. Her body starts to go slack beneath him, but he thrusts in and grinds his pelvic bone against her clit and no, she’s not done yet, not by a long shot. By the time he’s found his rhythm, her nails are digging into his shoulders and fuck yeah, she can mark him, scrape those nails down his back ‘til he bleeds as long as he can watch her eyelashes flutter with every deep stroke.

He can’t hold out much longer now, and he wants Spock with him, always. “Got one more in you, baby?”

By way of answer – or possibly as retaliation for the pet name – she gets a tight grip in his hair and drags his head down for a brutal kiss. He manages to get a hand between their bodies and thumb her clit just as he starts to come, and this time she does moan, legs tightening around his waist to hold him inside. They ride it out together, Jim gasping Spock’s name against her lips.

Even though she’s by no means delicate, Jim is careful to roll slightly to the side before collapsing bonelessly to the bed. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but it seems to be easier to read the satisfaction across Spock’s face like this. She recovers first, bringing a hand up to push Jim’s sweaty, matted hair back from his forehead. When their eyes meet, he gets that same feeling he always does, like he’s being looked into, and the longer he spends with Spock, the less it bothers him.

With a sated grin, he covers the slender hand against his face with his own and murmurs “Show me.”

Spock’s eyes glint as her fingers find the familiar places. It’s not deep enough to be a full meld, but it’s more than enough to broadcast a replay of her body’s sensations through their link, and fuck, that’s insane. It’s not like any orgasm he’s ever known before – it’s so much deeper, all that pleasure drawn inward, and as spent as he is, he feels his cock twitch again. As soon as he regains some presence of mind he is going to tell Scotty to forget about changing Spock back and get to work on turning Jim female, stat. They’d be the hottest fucking lesbians in Starfleet.

A ripple of laughter comes through the link, and Jim realizes Spock heard that particular thought. Jim loves the sound of Spock’s laugh in his mind, and since he can’t hide that sappy thought either, he follows it up with all the things he wants to do before she changes back: press her up against a wall as those long, pale legs wrap around his waist. Have her strip for him – no tacky music necessary, just Spock’s natural grace as she peels her uniform off so slowly that Jim can barely stand it. Order everyone off the bridge and go down on her while she’s sitting, back straight and legs spread wide, in the captain’s chair. Sure, they’ve done that one before, but it will never, ever get old.

Another mental laugh, the closest thing he’ll ever hear to a Vulcan giggle. The sound of her voice – heard by his ears rather than his mind – is almost startling in its contrasting calmness. “I approve of your plans, Jim, but even lacking a refractory period, I require rest before we continue.”

It shouldn’t be sexy to hear anyone say “refractory period,” but somehow Spock manages it.