The first time Jim laid eyes on Spock across the room at his trial, he knew he was in trouble – and not just because Spock was accusing him of cheating on his precious Kobayashi Maru. For all humanity’s advances, both technological and social, Omegas were still something like second-class citizens. They weren’t allowed to take up certain professions or enlist in Starfleet. The government claimed it was to protect Omegas.
Well, screw that. Jim didn’t need protecting. What he needed was the stars, the endless adventure and the absolute freedom that space offered.
So, he did what any semi-insane person would do: he got his hands on the heaviest suppressants he could and enlisted. The only person who knew he wasn’t the Alpha he claimed to be was Bones. Bones was a Beta so he didn’t particularly care one way or the other, even though he thought Jim had some kind of secret death wish by submerging himself in a world where he was pretty much bait if he missed taking his suppressants even once.
But Spock… Spock was an Alpha, a real Alpha. On top of being a real Alpha, he was also half-Vulcan and Jim wasn’t sure if he somehow hallucinated seeing his nostrils flare when he stood to approach the podium, or if he had imagined the way his eyes burned into Jim, making the small hairs at the back of his neck stand in warning, but either way, he was in trouble. Of course, the trial was interrupted.
Not that his fun with Spock stopped there. Nope.
Amidst the whole screwed up thing with Nero, he had to instigate Spock into attacking him so he would admit he was emotionally compromised. Later, he would regret his words, but at the time he was rather distracted by being pinned over the navigation console with Spock’s hand at his throat and a telltale hardness pressing against his thigh.
After everything went down and they were headed back to Earth, in a quiet, stunned moment of time he spent examining the marks on his neck, Jim realized he was wet, slick leaking between his legs. It should have been impossible. The suppressants were supposed to stop all his Omega functions. Deciding it was some kind of fluke, maybe a reaction from all the adrenaline and excitement, he didn’t think it about again until he was face to face with the half-Vulcan when he offered to be his First Officer.
Vulcans didn’t have Alphas, Betas or Omegas. In that, along with his human heritage, which was likely the reason he was an Alpha in the first place, he was a rarity. Yet another thing that set him apart was the fact that he’d never been bonded as a child. His parents were uncertain how he would respond, if he’d even have pon farr as an Alpha. There’d simply been too many potential variables to consider, and not nearly enough evidence to comfortably act upon.
As a half-Vulcan, his senses were already keener than those of a human. As a half-Vulcan Alpha, his senses were often overwhelmingly acute. It was how he’d known Jim Kirk was an Omega even before he’d come face to face with the cadet at the trial.
Whatever suppressants Kirk used were good enough to cover his scent to everyone but Spock. The lacing of Omega under the artificial Alpha pheromones was enough to make him salivate, even as faint as it was, no more than a whisper of something saccharine and hot, something he knew would taste amazing beneath his tongue. It took nearly every ounce of control he had to keep from stalking over and burying his face into the hollow of Kirk’s throat. He was both relieved and disappointed when the trial was interrupted by Vulcan’s distress call. Perhaps he wouldn’t come in contact with Kirk again, and that, as they say, would be that.
Of course, the universe doesn’t work that way, and all too soon he found himself staring down at Kirk on the bridge of the Enterprise. Combined with the too recent loss of his mother, nearly six billion of his people and his entire planet, Kirk’s taunting was too much. Spock’s control broke; with a snarl he didn’t recognize, he attacked Kirk, hitting him before throwing him into the navigation console and pinning him there, one hand at his throat, fingers closing on the human’s fragile windpipe. He was furious and aroused, torn between wanting to choke the life out of Kirk and wanting to bite the juncture of his throat as he thrust into him in one hard, brutal snap of hips. It was only the sound of his father’s voice that kept him from doing just that. He released Kirk with a start, stepping back and then turning and making his way off the bridge as fast as he could.
He unconsciously returned to the transporter room where he stared at the space his mother should have occupied and allowed shame to fill him. Everything was a blur. He was confused and unstable. The last person he wanted to see was his father but there he was, attempting to ensure Spock’s well-being. Still, something Sarek said grounded him. Between the, “I believe that she would say do not try to,” and the, “You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her,” he found the resolve to go back to the bridge and assist Kirk with his plan, despite how reckless it was. When everything was said and done and Spock found himself standing next to Kirk on the bridge as they made their way back to Earth, he realized his anger toward the human had dissipated.
His desire to claim him, however, had not.