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The destruction of Vulcan is the catalyst.
In a matter of moments–seemingly inconsequential minutes to the rest of the thriving universe–the dominant species of an entire planet is crippled. A couple thousand of the Vulcan race now become the last few of a decimated many. Those fortunate enough to be away from home–be it for diplomatic missions, those part of StarFleet, those simply on pleasure trips to other life sustaining solar systems–survive. The rest turn to ash with all of Vulcan.
The awakening of the long slumbering Augments is the driving force behind the ambitious bid for survival.
On paper, Vulcan’s and Augmented Human’s draw many similarities, despite the vitriol that came naturally between the two. In practice, without the dire circumstances, neither would consider the other beyond a studious interest in something deemed lesser. It could be argued this was another similarity: a shared arrogance toward their capabilities, worth, and potential legacy.
It could be argued as well that this is why they fit together so perfectly once logic and pragmatism took the forefront; once the animalistic distaste for ‘other’ was placated by the primal urge to survive as a species.
On their own, neither stood a chance against their ever stacking odds.
Politically, the remaining Vulcan’s–now situated on New Vulcan–held a severe disadvantage to the suddenly more influential planets of the Federation.
Strategically, the Augment’s lacked the standing and defined independence needed to operate free of Federation oppression and persecution.
Neither had the numbers or military power for a proper foothold within the Federation. Dwindled and misplaced, separately they would fall to a larger, opportunistic species. Together, however, they could become an unyielding force as they once were. Repopulate and thrive. Remain free in their own cultures, their own morals, their own mores and folkways.
Mutually assured survival.
It is, of all people, S’Chn T’Gai Spock who initiates first contact. His connections run deep in Star Fleet–his family name, a legacy of diplomats and scientists, has given him many advantages within the Federation. His clearance goes beyond a Science Officer’s standard scope. He sees the moment Star Fleet discovers the hibernating Augmented Humans; watches as the ham-fisted plan to control the superior humanoids begins to unfold.
It is Noonien Singh “Khan’’ who seals the deal. An emperor of his own people, he alone determines that the alliance between Augment and Vulcan truly is ‘most logical’. It is the best chance his family has at not just surviving in the distant year of 2255, but thriving. Gaining a foothold in history as to never be used and discarded by another lesser species again.
Months pass after their deal is struck with Admiral Alexander Marcus still in full belief he is in control. That it is he who shall steer the newly developed war machines brought to life by an enslaved Khan. He is unaware of the close scrutiny he’s under; unaware it is in fact he himself that has become the slave–the puppet at the mercy of two desperate, brilliant men.
It is the Admiral’s blood that signs the first official declaration of independence of the Augments. It is his murder that propels the corruption of Star Fleet into the limelight–that gives New Vulcan the substance in which to declare their support and offer of amnesty to the Augments on their soil.
Moral outrage and political posturing keeps New Vulcan safe–for now. Let Earth try to declare outright war–let Star Fleet try. The Augments paint the perfectly sympathetic victims, and the charitable Vulcan’s hold half the warp-capable planets on their side.
Mutually assured destruction, should either side try to strike now. Assured civil war within the Federation.
Earth nor their allied forces would make a move against New Vulcan and the Augment sympathizers. Finally, a more even playing field.
Act one of their bid for solar dominance comes to a close with a strong victory. Now, with a planet of their own and a budding war fleet, it is their numbers that need tending to. The genetic pool that needs growing.
That, and a political gambit to further muddy the waters; to keep alliances fragmented while New Vulcan permanently fortified their standing.
Jamie Tiberius Kirk is not a prude. She didn’t have the background to be one. Didn’t have the innocence or the naivety to pull it off. She has stared death in the face dozens of times before she even hit eighteen. She learned early on to enjoy life for what it was, for herself.
Most people just called her a whore. It just so happened she never fucking asked for their opinions.
Jamie is not a prude, so when Spock comes to their planned night out with a plus one–tall, dark, and undeniably arm-candy–she is not put off at all by the man’s immediate bedroom eyes.
“This is John,” he’s introduced as a work acquaintance. Must be someone in the Science Division, Jamie thinks, because she swears his face is familiar. But it’s dark in the bar, and Friday nights get a little crazy with the laser show, so she can’t quite place where she’s seen him.
They’re six months into a one year Earth side break. A chance to repair and upgrade the Enterprise, promote and remove Officer’s–pull from the new blood and give veterans a chance to choose different Fleet paths if desired. Jamie has taken this as a chance to both solidify her position within Star Fleet command and party her ass off. She takes no little pride in being able to do both so fabulously.
It is Spock’s new friend that buys the first few rounds. Jamie certainly doesn’t argue. They’re a few towns away from headquarters and in civs as to not be recognized. She appreciates John’s form fitting pull-over just as much as he apparently appreciates the length of her skirt and low-cut band t-shirt. He’s subtle, but she catches him peeking.
It’d be a lie to say she doesn’t lean over the bar more than absolutely necessary just to give the man’s gaze another inch or two to appreciate.
It’s Spock, however, who watches her body shamelessly. Caught off guard at first, Jamie flushes. Hesitates. Her Second In Command is wearing a button up and dress pants, something she’s seen on him a thousand times, and yet after catching his eyes roaming her exposed thighs she finds his out-of-place attire attractive. Uniquely ‘Spock’.
It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been inappropriate, but they’ve never done more than hand holding or chaste kissing. They’d briefly discussed things–in a very stunted, awkward way–but had ultimately decided mid-deep space mission was not the right time to explore anything further.
Well, they were Earth-side now, she supposed.
Jamie finds she’d be hard pressed to choose between the two this evening: the acutely interested stranger or the horny Vulcan.
Or maybe she doesn’t have to.
The Captain swears she’s only a few drinks in, the night barely scratching the surface of shop talk and frilly shots, but the world already feels buttery warm around her. Jamie’s head gives a pleasant little spin. She can’t think of a single reason to protest when John pulls her toward the back of the bar, into a dark corner populated by a small menagerie of horny couples all but dry humping each other off the crowded dance floor.
Nor can she think of a single complaint when John pulls her in close, his back against the wall, fingers gripping possessively just under the hem of her skirt, tongue in her mouth. Jamie thinks it’s odd, hasn’t ever had a guy pin himself to a sketchy bar wall before, but it makes a lot more sense when a second set of hands roam up her shirt to cup her breasts from behind.
Oh.
Her head is floaty, but in a fun way, and she groans into the kiss when Spock sucks a bruise into the crook of her neck.
Yeah, she’s onboard with this. Whatever this is.
“We have a hotel room nearby,” John’s voice carries over the pounding music. The meaning of his words sparks a whole different kind of arousal. For one, John clearly intended to fuck her from the start. And two, ‘we’ implied Spock intended to fuck her the whole time too.
Something’s off, her remaining brain cells warn. John caresses her over her underwear, insistent and hot. Jamie decides her last remaining brain cells can fuck right off.
“What are we still doing here, then?” Jamie bites John hard on their next kiss, teasing. She presses her chest forward and her ass back to grind against the very erect Vulcan behind her. Spock huffs what sounds suspiciously like a Vulcan curse before pulling her back, spinning her around as he pulls her through the throng of drunk dancers.
John grabs her other arm, a possessive gesture as he helps shoulder anyone out of her way before they can so much as bump into her.
She thinks her new kink is aggressive nerds.
The hotel is a block away. Her vision is wavy but she manages to walk a mostly straight line on her own. Jamie’s giddy mood and the girly shots keep the walk from becoming awkward; she chirps happily at Spock about the latest updates regarding the Enterprise–her baby–and enjoys John’s opinion on the latest hardware and software being integrated into the newer Federation systems.
She’s so engrossed in her iteration of just how cool the new geological, 3D scanning sensors installed on their survey ships are that she doesn’t register they’re in the hotel room until John shoves her against the locked door and shuts her up with his mouth.
Jamie goes with it–completely forgetting the Enterprise–and laughs breathlessly when John hikes one of her legs up so he can properly grind himself against her. His kiss is viscous now, fervent and full of teeth. She wraps her hands around his neck more out of necessity than passion. All she can smell is his cologne and alcohol and feel the heat of him all over her. It’s aggressive, but good.
The room suddenly spins, violently enough for her to end the kiss, eyes screwing shut as she groans in discomfort. Her grip on John becomes less sure. It felt like she was nearly black-out drunk, but she knew she hadn’t had that much to drink–had she?
“Are you feeling alright, Captain?” cool hands pull her away from the door, all but carry her to the hotel bed.
“Something's not right,” Jamie slurs. Her eyes open to the dim light of the room above, unable to focus. John and Spock hover on either side of her, faces blurry.
“You have had too much to drink,” Spock supplies, but his tone is missing the usual unvoiced reprimand.
Did I? She wonders again. How many drinks did I have?
Laying down, the dizziness passes, so when Spock sits beside her and cards his hands through her hair, she leans into his touch.
“Feels good,” she murmurs. His fingers feel cool against her overheated scalp. She happily accepts when he kisses her, more gentle than John and methodical in a way only a Vulcan could be. Spock’s hand travels from her hair, down her throat, before palming a breast through her bra. She combs her fingers through his hair and arches into the touch, legs spreading, skirt more a suggestion at this point.
John takes advantage, his hand traveling feather light from her knee to her inner thigh. He pauses, almost like he’s asking permission, though Jamie thinks they’re far past that point. She wiggles her hips and his hand slips higher. It’s all the permission he needs before he yanks her underwear down her legs and works two fingers inside her.
There’s a moment where she registers every sensation all at once, an overwhelming sense of pleasure, before she teeters on the wrong side of a blackout. She’s aware, to a degree, of the world around her, but her eyes roll and no amount of effort can get them to open.
“Now,” she hears Spock say, distant and close all at the same time. She feels his hands rearrange her, a confusing sensation of floating even as she can feel the bedding sliding against her skin. He undresses her–her shirt, bra, and skirt removed quickly–before he must do the same to himself. When he finally settles, they’re skin to skin, with Jamie’s head cradled at the crook of his neck, straddling his lap where he lays on the bed.
Spock’s erection juts against her hip, trapped between them.
She groans, a strangled attempt to speak, and she continues to fight to open her eyes. Her thoughts are a mess, too quick and disjointed for her to truly process more than the physical, and yet a small voice of reason flutters across her coniscness–I’ve been drugged–before it melts away and is lost with the rest of her thoughts.
John comes behind them, naked as well. She can feel his erection hot against her ass where he hovers.
There’s the sound of paper tearing, the sharp scent of alcohol, before he wipes something cold over one of her thighs. It’s followed quickly by the familiar pinch and hiss from a hypo.
Adrenaline spikes, she gasps, and finally she teeters back to awareness. Her arms are heavy, but she tries to push herself up all the same, hands braced on Spock’s chest. She looks down into the man’s eyes, confused, upset.
“What’s happening?” she slurs, swaying above him. Something was wrong, they needed to stop.
His only answer is to shush her, like he’s gentling a scared animal. He helps steady her with a firm hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly across overheated skin.
John grabs her by the hips then, raises her to her knees. Spock uses his free hand to align himself, the head of his cock rubbing teasingly through her slit. She’s wet and he slides through her lips easily, bumping into her clit in a delicious way.
Despite herself she moans.
“You should enjoy this,” Spock says then, his cheeks flushed green and his pupils blown. “You have said yourself we are compatible, and we have discussed physical intercourse before. It is only logical for you to enjoy yourself.”
In the haze Jamie isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. She does find him hot, and she has thought about fucking him before. He rubs against her clit again and she whines, horny and needy despite not understanding what’s going on. Despite not being able to shake the overwhelming feeling of wrongness.
John lets go of her hips then, and with no strength in her legs, Jamie slowly impales herself on Spock’s cock.
“Oh god,” she moans, and every inch is a perfect stretch. It feels different then what she’s taken before, and she’s reminded of the few times she’s looked up Vulcan porn. Their cocks are knobbed on the underside–ribbed for her pleasure–and Jamie had always wondered if Spock had inherited that trait from his Vulcan half. Now she knows.
From head to the base she feels three distinct bumps, each a little bigger, each stretching her just that much more. On the last one she hesitates, tries to use her hands on Spock’s chest to pull herself up.
“Too much,” she groans pathetically, looking at Spock with pleading eyes. He shushes her again, the hand on her shoulder snaking into her hair, the other gripping her firmly at her hip. He pulls her in for a kiss at the same time he forces the last knob inside her.
She whines into Spock’s mouth, a strangled thing, and feels overfull in a way she never has with toys. He grinds into her, his pubic bone pressing into her clit with each movement, but otherwise holds still so she can adjust.
Jamie breaks the kiss, head falling back to the crock of his neck. She’s breathless and doesn’t have the strength to hold herself up anymore.
“Please,” she says breathlessly, unsure what she’s actually asking for. The girth of him burned, even as he stayed buried inside, unmoving. And yet the erotism of it, the steady pressure, had her walls fluttering around him and arousal pooling hot in her stomach.
She’s not sure how long they stay like that. Spock’s hands slide soothingly up and down her sides, John’s hands joining in, massaging her lower back.
“Relax,” she hears John say, and accompanied by his skilled touch, she does. The stretch is still there, but where she and Spock are joined no longer burns.
John’s hands pull her back by the shoulders until she’s resting against his chest, steadying her to properly sit on Spock’s cock. They both moan with the movement–human and Vulcan–as the position seems to sink him just that much deeper inside.
John switches his grip to her hips, uses the leverage to again guide Jamie to her knees. He moves her slowly, gently, and she can feel as each individual node on Spock’s cock is pulled out of her. It’s a strange sensation, but somehow good. Each pull sends a jolt up her spine. When the last knob pulls free and only the head of his cock remains, John stops.
Jamie is breathing hard, heart fluttering in her chest. She grips John’s hands where they hold tight at her hips. He runs his nose along the back of her neck, nipping and kissing his way to her ear.
“We’re going to start now,” he breathed, husky and low. She shivers. “Try to keep up.”
They move in unison, John pushing her down while Spock rocks his hips up. She’s wet enough he slides in easily now, each bump on his cock slamming into her without resistance. They set a pushing pace, and Jamie thinks she’s going to hyperventilate with how fast she’s panting.
Each upward thrust forces a moan, and each quick pull out has her whining from the strange sensation. She likened the feeling to anal beads, almost, a toy she has enjoyed plenty of times in the past, but never so big, nor were they ever fucked into her like now.
The curve of Spock’s cock and the pressure from the bumps press insistantly at the perfect places inside her. She comes quickly and loud, surprisingly even herself, her walls clamping down even as Spock and John continued to fuck her down on the Vulcan’s cock over and over.
“Spock,” she whines his name desperately, her eyes screwing shut, body falling forward again and letting the Vulcan take her full weight while they use her.
“I have you,” Spock grunts, sounding as disheveled as he’s ever been, before he covers John’s hands with his own to force Jamie down on his cock one last time and holds her there. He turns his head, pressing his nose into her hair, murmuring her name while he comes inside her.
Jamie pants in the Vulcan’s arms, confused and sore and tired, allowing him to hold her–taking comfort where she maybe shouldn’t. She feels more aware now, her mind still sluggish but not nearly as disoriented.
He’s still hard inside her, and she thinks she can… feel him coming. In waves. Splashes of heat. She’s never experienced anything like it. They shiver together at his next release, him groaning his pleasure into her hair, Jamie moaning at the strange feeling. He holds her tightly to his body; Jamie goes lax while she tries to process everything, waiting for him to finish.
Her stomach warms, and soon the feeling of his release is not only tangible, but pleasurable. A tingling deep inside, reminding Jamie of the shivers she gets when someone runs their fingers through her hair just right.
“Spock?” her words aren’t slurring anymore, but her voice is tired, words still difficult. She tries to lace as much concern into her tone as she can. “Feels weird.”
Spock goes soft. Jamie shifts her hips, dislodging him, and feels come flow out of her in a way she never has before. It’s disconcerting how much there is and a surprising tidbit of Vulcan biology.
“Does it feel good where he’s come inside you?” John asks, and Jamie flinches when he’s suddenly touching her, using his fingers to stop anything else from leaking out. In the chaos of it all, with her mind just coming back to her, she had almost forgotten he was there.
“He’s going to be unbearably smug now, about being right.”
“I could not be certain of our physical compatibility before,” Spock uses one arm to keep Jamie pinned to his chest, the other runs soothing caresses up and down her sides. “Cross species intercourse does not always produce the same biological reaction as purely Vulcan coupling would. What you are feeling is what any Vulcan woman would.”
Despite herself, Jamie squirms in Spock’s arms, trying to push John’s fingers deeper inside, the tingling heat now making her unbearably restless and horny.
“Fuck, what’s happening?” she pants into Spock’s neck, biting at the skin there when he doesn’t let go of her, unable to hold still.
“This is how Vulcan’s mate,” Spock says simply, using his superior strength to easily hold her in place. “A frenzy is triggered until an egg is successfully fertilized.”
“Are you insane?” Jamie snaps, still grinding herself back into John as much as physically possible. “I’m on the shot. Can’t get pregnant. Now what?”
“Were,” Spock interjects.
“What does that mean– oh god–”
John removes his fingers and quickly replaces them with his cock. He’s not as thick, considering the extra bits Vulcan’s packed, but it seems endless before she feels him completely seated. Every inch of him sliding against her inner walls is nirvana when paired with the sensations brought on by Spock’s come. Normally Jamie hates anything touching her cervix–partner or toy–but the head of his cock buried so deep only feels good, spurs the ‘fenzy’.
Jamie gathers her knees beneath her more firmly, but not to escape. She angles her hips to try and take John deeper, and when he starts to fuck her with abandon, she does her best to meet each thrust.
She cannot hold back the endless stream of nonsense as she babbles and moans like a whore in Spock’s arms. She’s had plenty of partners in her life, a truly impressive line of trysts, but none have ever felt so intense.
She comes quickly, a wordless cry forced from her lungs as her body clamps around John tightly and the man continues to fuck her through it.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she whines into Spock’s chest, overstimulated tears streaming down her cheeks. But apparently she can, because John fucks her through her second orgasm only to push her into her third.
They finish together this time, the man gripping her hips so tight there will definitely be bruises, burying himself inside her as deeply as he can.
Jamie is still quaking in Spock’s arms, slowly coming down, when she realizes something isn’t quite right. Was John getting bigger?
“Stop,” she yells, but even as she says it she feels her hips shift to try and better accommodate the sudden mass. Even this felt good, the ballooning flesh just at the entrance of her cunt.
She knows what a knot is, has watched enough porn for a basic understanding. It was a rare thing in a very few select alien species. And apparently John wasn’t fucking human like she thought.
Jamie can’t feel him finishing in the same way she could with Spock. Instead of a tingling heat, its pressure. John’s cock twitches, and the pressure grows, a slow ache beginning to build alongside the pleasure. Her human body not made to accommodate so much.
“Too much,” she groans, and this time they listen. John maneuvers them onto their side, taking pressure off Jamie’s stomach. He moves her with such ease, a hidden strength–definitely not human.
He pulls her in close, one arm pillowing her head, the other possessively covering her too-full stomach. She’s facing Spock now, staring at her friend with watery eyes and confusion. The night and their choices were completely lost on her.
“You drugged my drinks,” she states flatly, voice hoarse from all the yelling.
“Yes,” Spock answers easily, turning on his side to look her in the eye, as though he were simply reciting a mission report.
“Why?” her voice doesn’t tremble. Maybe it will later. For now she feels only a strange detachment from the situation. That, and a Captain's need to understand, to get a crisis under control. “I was already going to sleep with you. Both of you. Why?”
Before he can answer, Jamie spots an eerily familiar shape on the bedside table behind Spock. A hypo. She knew she’d felt one.
“What the hell did you dose me with?”
“The drink was a sedative,” John answers this time. He buries his nose in her hair, breathes her in. He thrusts himself shallowly, testing the knot, the sensation making her shiver and gasp.
“And the hypo?” she asks breathlessly. She felt the ‘frenzy’ Spock described coming on again, the initial knotting having given her just a short reprieve. Jamie tries to hold onto the severity of the situation all while her hips push back on John’s cock wantonly.
“A neutralizing agent for your contraceptive,” Spock answers.
“There’s more,” Jamie feels somewhat validated in the fact John is also breathless. He tangles their legs together to help her find better purchase, so she can fuck herself on his knot more firmly. “Fertility serum, of sorts. My creation.”
He comes again, the pressure inside her grows. She shudders, gasps, a fourth orgasm wringed from her exhausted body.
Jamie goes limp then, gasping for air, sweaty, shaking.
Spock brushes her hair from her face; she doesn’t have the energy to open her eyes to look at him. She just wants to fall asleep and never wake up again.
“Do you still feel the heat?” he asks, placing his hand next to John’s on her stomach.
Her eyes open then, she stares wide-eyed at Spock, a sense of dread building. The tingling was gone. The strange heat in her stomach. The ‘frenzy’. All that was left was soreness and a bone deep exhaustion.
Spock looks past Jamie, over her head, at John.
“An egg has been fertilized,” he confirms what everyone else is thinking. “At least one.”
Jamie shudders at the implication.
“I… I don’t want a baby,” her voice is small, the information should be obvious. She’s a Federation Captain, for christ sake. She, they, had been preparing for their second deep space mission. Of course she wasn’t planning a family–since when was Spock? And who the hell was John?
Panic bubbles to the surface as reality truly sets in. She tries to scramble forward, kicking John’s legs off of her, but ends up groaning in pain where the knot pulls at their connection.
John hisses from the sudden jerk, arms coming around to cage Jamie in.
“Another ten minutes,” he bites out when she jerks forward again in fear. “Another ten minutes and I’ll let you go.”
Jamie goes still, tears streaming down her face, breathing ragged.
Ten minutes, she tells herself. Just ten more, she could do it.
Spock reaches forward again, settling his hand along her temple. Calmness slowly settles over her body, and she knows it’s his doing. Not a Mind Meld, but control of some kind.
“Don’t,” she sniffles, shaking her head to dislodge him.
“I only wish to bring you peace.”
“If that’s what you wanted, you wouldn’t have done this.”
He stares back at her, stupid face as impassive as always.
“We don’t have a choice,” he starts. She interrupts him.
“There is always a choice.”
They settle into a quiet lull, waiting. It’s agonizing.
“My name is Khan Noonien Singh,” John–not John–suddenly says.
Her heart stutters.
“The fucking Augment?” she glares at Spock. “What the hell is going on–cut the bullshit and just tell me!”
Jamie knew about the Augmented humans, and the evil things Admiral Marcus attempted under the guise of the Federation’s whims. She was happy even, when New Vulcan took what she considered the moral stance, offering them a home–a kind of safety she knew they would not have without a sponsor.
She had asked Spock about it, back when the story first broke, and the fallout was still building. He had told her as a Starfleet Officer, he was not allowed to be deeply involved in the politics of New Vulcan, and knew only what Jamie did.
“What ever happened to Vulcan’s don’t lie,” she snarled.
“It turns out they can lie exceptionally well, when part of them is human,” Khan supplies, earning a dark look from Spock. “The official story is that Admiral Marcus was killed after his own Officers revolted at his cruelty, then helped my family escape. This narrative is false. Your Science Officer coordinated quite a bit behind the scenes, and was the spearhead for New Vulcan extending amnesty to Augments.”
“Fantastic, so happy for the two of you,” Jamie bit. “Why am I here?”
“Politics,” Khan answered simply, as though that were a simple answer at all.
Jamie’s brow furrowed, her mind racing. Galactic politics were never her interest, definitely not a strong suit. But if what Khan said was true, then she could only imagine the easy peace between New Vulcan and Earth was not so easy after all. If an outsider was needed to free the Augments, then that meant there were more co-conspirators within Earth’s Federation than the public was being led to believe.
Marcus’ plan had been to instigate war, commanding Augment intellect to create a fleet of unstoppable warships. If other planets within the Federation thought Earth was complicit, not simply an unwitting bystander…
But then why did New Vulcan take on the Augments? The answer came easily–their numbers. If tensions were so high amongst the other planets, if there were worries of Earth’s intentions–and those who might side with Earth–then each opposing entity would need to be able to stand on their own merit.
Dog eat dog, if a civil war broke out. It would be a game of numbers and fire power.
And politics, as Khan had so helpfully supplied.
Jamie was a decorated Captain of Starfleet, a war hero. The woman who not only killed Nero, but stopped him before Earth could suffer the same fate as old Vulcan. Her command style was unconventional, often drew the ire of her superiors, and yet the name Jamie Tiberious Kirk spread across the Federation like a folk hero.
A human of Earth already beloved by New Vulcan. Whose second in command was Vulcan, and the son of a diplomat no less.
If there was any singular woman who could further tip the scales of public opinion in the favor of New Vulcan and the Augments alliance, it was Jamie. Still, that didn’t wholly explain their actions.
“You said it was a fertility serum ‘of sorts’. What exactly does that mean?”
Khan nuzzled into the back of Jamie’s neck, using one hand to move her hair to give better access. He licked at the delicate skin there, eliciting a shiver.
“A child born between a Vulcan and Augment is expected and will not change much in the current political climate. A child born between a Vulcan and human would not do much in the scheme of things either,” Khan murmured into her neck, tickling her small hairs. “The same could be said for a child born between an Augment and a human–even if that human was a beloved Starfleet Captain.”
“Then what the hell was the point in all of this?” she says impatiently, then realizes.
A fertility serum ‘of sorts’. A man whose intellect was so potent an entire galactic government feared him. A Starfleet scientist who specialized in Xenobiology.
“It’s not possible,” she tells herself.
Three distinct species and the desperate need to be the center of a galactic stage.
One egg, two sperm, a genetic impossibility made reality.
“I do love your mind,” Khan says. “I’ve only been able to study you from afar until now. Riveting to watch a human be anything but boring.”
Khan bites her at the juncture of her neck, abrupt and brutal. She screams, arching away as her hands scrambled back to pull at his hair, to try and yank him off. She feels his teeth split skin just as the knot finally gives.
Spock grabs her arms while Khan pins her in place, leaving her no choice but to take the assault.
Khan licks at the wound when he finally releases her, relishing in it. Despite finally being free from his knot, she can’t shake the sudden feeling of connection between them, as small and vague as the feeling is.
“Fucking psychopath,” she hisses through her tears. She glares at Spock. “Both of you.”
Jamie knows Spock, as painful as that is to admit now. His face might seem placid, but she can see the hurt in his eyes. What right did he have to feel guilty now?
Spock pulls her away from Khan, arranges her under him. She fights, or tries to. Fatigued as she is, sore as she is, she’s ashamed with how little fight she can actually put up.
He forces his way between her legs, already hard. He slides in easily, each bulbous knob on his cock aided by the absolute mess they’ve made of her.
Surprisingly, he fucks her gently, as though an exact contrast to Khan’s bite. It feels good, but in a quiet way. He holds her eyes, joins their fingers in one hand, places the other at her temple.
It’s what she imagines they may have done before, if they were to make love.
He closes his eyes, and she knows what's coming next. She just doesn’t have the strength to fight it.
T'hy'la, it’s whispered in her head, the mental voice decidedly Spock despite not really being a voice at all. Jamie’s eyes well with tears, screwing shut as she wrestles with the mental intrusion. It feels strange, like a link has been made between the two of them.
From his side, she can feel adoration, love, and a twisted possession.
She hopes he feels nothing but disgust and hate from her tether.
Jamie doesn’t know how long he roots around in her head, but she comes back to herself on the tail end of an orgasm. She feels Spock coming again too, the overfull feeling deep inside her only growing more apparent.
Khan sits beside them, leaning against the headboard, petting idly through her sweat damp hair. She doesn’t have the mind to shake him off, nor the energy to speak again. She watches Spock’s expression shiver in pleasure with each hot spurt of come, thinks she would have found him so endearing like this if things had turned out differently.
Jamie’s eyes flutter, the drugs and drinks and turmoil finally catching up, and finally–blessedly–passes out.