5A/N: Written for a prompt on the Star Trek kink meme: "Kirk and Spock bake a cake together. Spock's half turns out perfect and logical, and Jim's half turns out... well, not that good. Then they have sex."
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: R for some language and sex
Length: 571
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor do I make any money from this.
Summary: See prompt. :)
"How does that even work?"
Jim's face was too busy being utterly bewildered to look particularly upset.
Spock was considering the confection with his head tilted slightly to one side.
"It defies all logic."
They stared together at the cake sat on the table. Perfectly formed, with high rising, smooth walls, a perfect 90° corner ran evenly around the top and opened onto a round plateau coated in perfectly even icing that looked to have the texture of silk. The icing was smoothed down in wide, artful strokes to cover the sides, the piped crenellations around the rim looked too beautiful to consider breaking and eating and the delicate swirls of sprinkles embellishing the surface were like galaxies and constellations in their pure sugar form. It was as if the hand of a deity were reaching down to pour sunlight upon this cake and hold it up as an example of all that was right and good in the world.
That was Spock's half.
Jim's half looked as if the devil had come to claim this cake as his own but had merely turned back and gone home in disgust. Only wrath and hellfire could have contorted the foodstuff like that, surely: it looked as if it were melting alive, deformed and horrible, and ought to be screaming in pain. The icing was glooped into the canyons and crevices of the sponge, spilling out like ugly boiling tar, whilst other sections lay dry and barren. As for the coloured sprinkles…
"It looks like Walt Disney throwing up a rainbow." Jim seemed close to tears.
It took Spock a moment to respond as he was struck by the outward illogic yet surprising accuracy of Kirk's analogy.
"It bears no resemblance to highly coloured vomit." he assured Jim. A lie. "And I expect that the taste far exceeds its physical attractiveness." Picking up a spoon, he gouged out a large, stodgy, lumpen piece and popped it into his mouth.
Only twenty years of frequent meditation and emotional suppression allowed him to keep a normal face.
"It is…" he managed to swallow the thing, but had to struggle a second before saying, the slightest croak in his voice, "delicious."
Jim's face brightened slightly. "You really think, Spock?"
"Indeed," continued his partner, holding back from choking slightly, "however, I feel our foray into the roles of traditional domesticity might be better served by now exploring another aspect of co-habitation."
"Oh yeah?" Kirk might get upset over the failure of a cake but he was far from stupid and could understand Spock's manner of speaking without trying. "What did you have in mind, honeybun?"
Spock almost winced: nicknames had been something Jim took to with aplomb and he quietly found to be pointless and a little uncomfortable.
"I imagined," Spock began, removing a 4cm straight line of icing from his side of the cake and licking his finger very matter-of-factly, "that we might invoke the nonverbal agreement of cohabitating couples to have sex. Often, and at somewhat irregular times during the day. Now, in fact."
Kirk grinned at him. "That, Spock, is a very good suggestion."
"My research indicated that to copulate upon the kitchen furniture is considered an arousing propo–"
"Oh, fuck yes!"
In the resulting tumult, both evil and good cake ended up on the floor, icing ended up all over the First Officer and crumbs ended up absolutely everywhere. But nobody minded.