ext_159081 (
posyvanilla.livejournal.com) wrote in
crack_van2010-07-02 11:26 pm
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Entry tags:
Wall by ningengirai (NC-17)
Hi! I'm
posyvanilla, and I'll be driving the Star Trek: Reboot van for July. My main love is Kirk/Spock, but I read a wide variety of pairings and genres and I'll try to provide a diverse selection of recs.
Fandom: STAR TREK: REBOOT
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Length: 4,421
Author on LJ:
ningengirai
Author Website: LJ Fic Index
Why this must be read:
First time slightly angry wall sex, sweet second "first" time sex. The
st_xi_kink meme has spawned a lot of great fics, but this is one of my favorites. This is porn, yes, but it's not plotless or contrived.
ningengirai's dialogue is smart and snappy, and the whole story is sharp as a whipcrack. It's also hotter than hot.
The second time they have sex, which happens about three hours after the first time they have sex, is slow and explorative, playful and gentle, sweet and hot. It feels like something Jim could get used to.
The first time they have sex is the ultimate conglomeration of several cases of intergalactic clusterfucks finally coming to a head.
Or maybe just Jim and Spock colliding.
*****
The first time happens like this:
"Mr. Spock," Jim says quietly, lacing each word with just enough venom to make Spock's back even stiffer than usual, "come with me. The rest of you, as you were." At the turbolift, he makes a half-turn, taking in the subdued faces of Chekov and Sulu, the way Uhura seems to have found something incredibly interesting on her console's screens. Spock glides past him noiselessly. "I don't want any interruptions. Unless my ship is on fire or another Narada happens to cross our path, I don't want to hear about it. Understood? Yes? Good. Sulu, you have the conn."
The choir of quiet yessirs is drowned out by the quieter whoosh of the 'lift doors closing. Jim internally bemoans the fact that turbolifts don't have seats, because then at least he'd be able to sit on his hands, instead of fighting the incredible urge to throw a punch at Spock's expressionless face. Jim's never been very good at keeping a reign on his emotions, much less his reactions: he wants to throw a punch, he throws it. He wants to fuck someone, he tries his damndest to get them horizontal. He wanted to drive that stupid car off a cliff, he'd done it—granted, the desire to do so didn't actually manifest until he'd been about to do it, but it's the thought that counts.
He wants to plant his fist in Spock's face - and he doesn't, because over the last six months and through twenty-seven different fuck-ups on thirty-four different planets, he's had more than ample opportunity to witness Spock's
a) reflexes
b) strength
c) complete and utter disrespect for an opponent's life once the first hit's been thrown
and being not only the youngest captain in the history of Starfleet, but also the captain they had to scrape off of the interior walls of a turbolift with a spatula, well, that isn't how James T. Kirk wants to go down.
Wall
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Fandom: STAR TREK: REBOOT
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Length: 4,421
Author on LJ:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Author Website: LJ Fic Index
Why this must be read:
First time slightly angry wall sex, sweet second "first" time sex. The
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
The second time they have sex, which happens about three hours after the first time they have sex, is slow and explorative, playful and gentle, sweet and hot. It feels like something Jim could get used to.
The first time they have sex is the ultimate conglomeration of several cases of intergalactic clusterfucks finally coming to a head.
Or maybe just Jim and Spock colliding.
*****
The first time happens like this:
"Mr. Spock," Jim says quietly, lacing each word with just enough venom to make Spock's back even stiffer than usual, "come with me. The rest of you, as you were." At the turbolift, he makes a half-turn, taking in the subdued faces of Chekov and Sulu, the way Uhura seems to have found something incredibly interesting on her console's screens. Spock glides past him noiselessly. "I don't want any interruptions. Unless my ship is on fire or another Narada happens to cross our path, I don't want to hear about it. Understood? Yes? Good. Sulu, you have the conn."
The choir of quiet yessirs is drowned out by the quieter whoosh of the 'lift doors closing. Jim internally bemoans the fact that turbolifts don't have seats, because then at least he'd be able to sit on his hands, instead of fighting the incredible urge to throw a punch at Spock's expressionless face. Jim's never been very good at keeping a reign on his emotions, much less his reactions: he wants to throw a punch, he throws it. He wants to fuck someone, he tries his damndest to get them horizontal. He wanted to drive that stupid car off a cliff, he'd done it—granted, the desire to do so didn't actually manifest until he'd been about to do it, but it's the thought that counts.
He wants to plant his fist in Spock's face - and he doesn't, because over the last six months and through twenty-seven different fuck-ups on thirty-four different planets, he's had more than ample opportunity to witness Spock's
a) reflexes
b) strength
c) complete and utter disrespect for an opponent's life once the first hit's been thrown
and being not only the youngest captain in the history of Starfleet, but also the captain they had to scrape off of the interior walls of a turbolift with a spatula, well, that isn't how James T. Kirk wants to go down.
Wall