Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2009-12-07 14:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | rated: teen, slash, startrek, startrek xi |
Fic: A Little Touched 1/1 Star Trek XI
Title: A Little Touched.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.
Characters: Spock, Unnamed Navigator With Curly Hair and Russian Accent
Words: 412
Prompt: Spock obsesses over Chekov's hands.
Fandom: Star Trek: XI
Pairing: Spock/Chekov UST.
Rating: Teen.
Warnings: Vulcan Perving.
Summary: Spock is quietly going mad....or he's just lusting.
Author's Note: Silliness at its best.
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Closing his eyes, he let the noise of the ship and its crew wash over him. He heard every chirp, a reaction to the fingers that slid over consoles. A constant rise and fall indicated normal functions of the power grid. Every so often these were broken by a shift in someone's breathing pattern.
It was to one of these Spock found his mind drawn.
The soft exhalation through slightly flared nostrils lured attention. It was strong and regular for someone of that size, a good sign. This meant that he was in good health.
A quiet shudder ran through the Vulcan. Wresting his mind from this new obsession, he fought for control. It was not easy as another wave of warmth flowed through him.
Taking a deep breath, Spock married this to the flow of his own pulse for a mental focus. From there he strung the core functions of autonomic control. Mentally, he began to weave through these his memories and ingrained loyalties. Finally, he draped awareness of the surrounding world over the entire structure.
There, it was done. He was ready. With a tentative flutter, he Spock opened his eyes. Relief blossomed in his chest. It seemed that his mental faculties had been restored to him. He was once more in command of his own mind.
Of their own will, his eyes flew to the console forward of the bridge. More specifically, they were glued to the back of the officer manning Navigation.
The dark-yellow, scale-patterned shirt hung loosely over taught shoulders. He held them high, going about his duty with visible pride. It fit him well, stretching over his shoulders and down his arms where it came to an embroidered cuff.
From his position at the Science Station, Spock could clearly see one hand. The careful splay over the controls looked effortless. Medium length fingers ended in stubby nails, blunted from use. They still held a shine from the morning's scrubbing.
Flexing his fingers, the young man typed in his calculations. Each press of the buttons was carefully managed to a precise stroke. Viewed slowly, they were almost a loving caress.
Swallowing, Spock sucked in a quick breath. He quickly closed his eyes in defeat. Obviously the mental exercise had failed. Some other course of action would need be taken, and soon.
He would not resort to catching the young man's fingers in passing a forth time. There was only so much perverted groping his psyche could allow.
THE END........................