#kirkcut

gabe is a sexy smoking corpse tho

   ❛    perhaps next time you will take my advice into account captain. it could have ended quite differently.     ❜

     ❛   this better be good.  it’s three god dammed am jim.    ❜

vulcan staring ( the unamused kind )

“What’s the matter, Spock, you look–y-you look–”

Oh, God, here comes the laughter again.

@kirkcut

The slight chirp sound that comes from her PADD as she carries it back down the corridors to her workstation caused a knowing smile to come to her face. Glancing at the time, he would be on his way to the Bridge by then, which meant he must have seen the gift. Bringing the device up to her eyeline, she paused just outside the entrance to the weapon’s bay and displayed his message. [PADD Message || To: CPT. KIRK, James T.] It sort of already had your name all over it. I’m glad you like it.

      “ I made you breakfast. And it’s REAL FOOD. Happy birthday, Captain. ”

It wasn’t exactly a thought out plan, but it worked. Carol knew what she wanted and if she was going to get anything close to it, she knew she would have to initiate the contact. But it was Jim who leaned in first, his lips snapping spark of electricity into her. And he thoroughly knew what he was doing, his mouth then diving to her neck made her malleable in his grasp. Pink painted lips parted and gentle murmurs of gasps and forbidden moans left her. There was little point of trying to hide it.

Without a word, her arms lifted above her from their place draped over his shoulders. Her eyes closed and allowed the garment to be removed with no protest whatsoever. Carol wasn’t typically so compliant, a game of tug-of-war a bit more fulfilling in her book, but Jim had asked. She wasn’t about to deny such a request. Once free of it, she shivered, and she wasn’t entirely certain it was simply because of the rush of air hitting her bare skin. No, it was his hands taking inventory, his hands leaving heated paths where they traveled. And dammit all to hell if she didn’t arch directly to feel the fullness of his palms on her, anywhere they pleased.

“Jim.” Her tone was lower, deeper, needy. And just in case it didn’t get her point across, a few moments later, she repeated the single syllable name that always was her undoing.

“Jim.” That plea came a bit more breathlessly than she hoped, but his fingertips against her bare flesh was intoxicating and Carol was losing grip on her control.

But not completely.