Chapter Text
Kirk stood proud in the middle of the room he and his crew had been teleported to just two days prior. His broad shoulders were thrown back and his back was ramrod straight, while he held his chin high in an almost arrogant gesture.
He was looking good; vital and full of raw, masculine energy in the golden shirt that was stretching itself deliciously over his muscles. He knew it; even if it had not been for the shy, longing glances Princess Klena was throwing him.
And yet he didn’t feel powerful or Captain-ly in the least, right now.
The current affair was awkward and stilted, peppered with antagonistic glances Prince Krohk threw him and the fact that he had awoken this morning without Spock, who had already been up and about, delving in his findings from yesterday and valiantly trying not to reference the ending of last night in any way.
Kirk threw his First Officer a surreptitious glance out of the corner of his eyes. Spock stood a little to his right, hands clasped behind his back and stoically waiting for the party around the ambassador – consisting out of six Archnids, Prince and Princess included – to say their farewells to the family members gathered. It was a long journey to Triton II, the planet where the conference would be held and they would not see each other for at least 4 months.
‘I can’t wait to get back onto the Ship,’ the Captain thought longingly and forced himself to a dazzling smile, when King and Queen walked towards him in order to say their farewells. He had no idea what they were saying; he was way more interested in the burning presence of the Vulcan at his side.
Spock allowed himself to blow a breath out that could be very nearly described as a sigh, when the door to his quarters closed behind him and the familiar, dry heat surrounded his body comfortingly. It was 2257 on the dot and the day had been... taxing.
He had not known how to behave when he had awoken right next to his Captain. Jim. Their arms had still been around one another and the smooth, golden forehead of the human had been intimately pressed against his, so their breaths were mingling between them in an oddly satisfactory fashion.
The prospect, though, that Jim would awake and those hazel eyes would fix upon him with that mix of trepidation and apology they had held right before they had entered the bed, was something he definitely did not relish.
He had to think about the shameful way he had acted in front of the human and it had been enough to drive him out of the silent sanctuary of the narrow bed. The desolation radiating from Jim, when he had finally awoken had been nearly enough to crush the Vulcan under its weight.
Even though Jim still was across the room, Spock could clearly feel his emotions – and their had been nothing benign about them. Jim had been suffering due to Spock’s unresponsiveness. But what could he have done? What could he have said?
He had been totally overwhelmed by the sudden nausea when Jim had touched his phallus through the layers of clothing. Nausea and a surprising wave of shame over the fact that he had responded in such a strong fashion towards the human.
Spock slowly rolled his shoulders and stared contemplating down to the floor of his quarters. Back up on the Enterprise they had been obligated to personally show their guests to their quarters. An affair that was still heavily lying in the Vulcan’s stomach. Jim’s proximity had him allowed not only to feel the reluctance of his Captain, but also the rather negative feelings from their two royal guests. After this long time of abstinence it had been unduly difficult to analyze and compartmentalize the emotions from the other beings.
After they had been finished, they had had to conduct a meeting with Chief Engineer Scott and Lieutenant Sulu in order to get briefed on everything that had happened during their absence on the Ship.
Spock nearly shivered as he recalled the sudden drop in temperature when Mr. Scott had reluctantly told them about new orders from Starfleet. They were to take up cargo and deliver it to another planet while on their way to Triton II.
The Vulcan could almost understand the reluctance of the Scotsman, after witnessing the face of his Captain when he heard the news. Obviously Starfleet still was... unsatisfied with them. Jim hated it, when the Enterprise was exploited as a cargo Ship.
So it had not only been Jim that had felt miserable and agitated the whole day, but also Spock, who clearly felt all the negative emotions rolling off of the Captain. He had therefore retreated into the Science labs in an effort to calm down, but even 5.6 hours later, he still felt restless and almost twitchy – a condition that was highly irregular for the Vulcan.
Dark eyes slowly swept through his quarters. For a few seconds they were resting on the fire idol that was gently glowing in his sleeping area. However, the prospect of meditating was not as soothing as it normally was. In fact, the thought of sitting down and delving deeper into the almost destructive emotions was distasteful to the Vulcan.
The next item he laid his eyes on was the Vulcan harp, which stood innocently upon the same cushion he had carefully placed it a couple of days ago.
His fingers twitched longingly. Oh how he yearned to play her once more; to hear the clear, distinct tones of the strings soothe his frayed nerves. But it was hopeless.
Spock slowly held his hands up, staring at them solemnly. They had been calm and precise as long as the Captain was near him; but now they were back to their twitching, shivering state.
‘Am I to be dependent on him for the rest of my life?’ the Vulcan thought with a sinking feeling. An emotion was bubbling up inside him that he could only identify after a few confused moments as panic trying to overtake him.
Pictures of the disaster the day before as well as snippets of this past day were dancing through his mind’s eye, causing his chest to start heaving and the Vulcan heart in his side to start fluttering, until –
“Enough!” he said into the room with a low, but distinct voice. He would not let himself be reigned by his emotions. He would not wither and shrivel. He would not let this inability of his drive a wedge between Jim and him.
Spock was a man of intellect, a scientist and a thinker. But he also was a warrior – even if he didn’t always like to admit it.
The Vulcan walked determined towards the harp and carefully took her out of the shelf. It was time to face his demons and put his life back together.
Kirk was lying on his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head and staring at the ceiling. He slowly turned his head after a while and glanced at the clock. 2344. Perfect. So he was lying awake for nearly two hours now and could for the life of him not get any shuteye.
And why was that? Because he constantly thought of the wreck that had been his day. Not enough that these idiots in Starfleet were degrading his lady and his crew to mere delivery boys, he also had had virtually no word exchanged with Spock since the night before.
‘Should I leave him be? Or should I go talk to him?’ he thought and rubbed his hands over his face with an annoyed moan. Everything had been eternally more easy when they had been just friends. This whole sexual component was – although surprisingly exciting and pleasant – obviously not as easy manageable for the two of them as the start of their friendship had been.
Kirk sighed and sat up, rolling his shoulders and seizing his pyjama top that he had discarded before lying down on his bunk. When he was to try and make this happen, he should probably not scare his prey off right from the get-go.
His stride was purposeful, when he walked next door and he had a determined gleam in his hazel eyes. For a second his hand wanted to raise and buzz at the door of the Vulcan’s quarters, but he quickly thought better of it. They were a... couple, were they not? He should have the privilege of entering and leaving the quarters of Spock as he saw fit. Right?
He narrowed his eyes slightly at the door, contemplating his decision, until he heard footsteps coming down the corridor. And the Captain really did not want to be seen by any of his crewmen in the middle of the night standing in his pyjamas in front of the quarters of the First Officer like a kicked puppy.
So the decision was rather effectively made for him and his override code allowed him within seconds to slip inside the almost uncomfortably hot quarters of Spock.
The first thing he noticed, was the fact that the heat seemed to emphasize the scent of the Vulcan. All the little hair on his body started to rise, when the smell of sand and desert wafted around his being; his lips gave a wry, amused tug, when he felt his dick twitch in response to the delectable odour.
‘I have it real bad...’ he thought and finally concentrated on his surroundings. His eyebrows shot up, when he heard – and saw – Spock playing his harp. The man was sitting on the narrow, uncomfortable couch he had and cradled the expensive instrument in his right arm, while he plucked with the left one at the strings. The slanted eyebrows were furrowed in intense concentration and Kirk nearly held his breath in order not to disturb the gentle creature.
He had to be really out of it, when he was so fixed on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice the Captain entering.
Hazel eyes slowly drifted downwards from the down turned face towards the plucking hands. He winced, when he saw the way the joints seemed to block themselves every now and again in a spastic movement; there was nothing of the smooth, elegant swipes the Vulcan usually utilized while playing. It looked more like a robot trying to play the sensitive instrument – and that also was, what it sounded like.
Kirk slightly shifted his weight from one foot to another. He felt like he was intruding on something. Maybe he should go away and not humiliate Spock further by standing here and listening to his failed attempt to –
“Jim,” Spock said. The velvet baritone ensnaring the Captain once more, who sighed deeply in response.
“Spock, I... I’m sorry. I didn’t want to intrude. I go again, shall I?” he murmured and quickly turned towards the door.
“Why are you here?”
The human hesitated. Spock sounded calm and mildly curious – not at all upset or agitated, although having been caught at his abysmal attempt. Kirk slowly looked back over his shoulder towards the man.
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought...”
“The day has not been satisfactory.”
“No. Not really.”
“You wanted to sleep here?”
Kirk’s mouth fell slightly open and his gut started to tighten. He began wiping his sweaty palms surreptitiously at his pyjama bottoms, while he turned around again in order to face the Vulcan that was sitting calm and collected on the couch.
No words were coming forth; for the first time his tongue was simply paralyzed. Slowly, as if he was in a dream, he nodded. Chocolate brown eyes scrutinized him intently for a few moments, before the austere, stern face became neutral and Spock slowly came to his feet. The movement was graceful and fluid, reminding Kirk again of a panther that was circling his prey.
He closed his eyes, willing his cock to behave; he prayed that Spock didn’t see the way his loose trousers started to bulge slightly.
When he dared to take another peek, a silent gasp made its way out of his throat. Spock had put the harp on its place in the shelf and had made his way towards him without a sound.
The men stood in front of each other – close enough that they could feel the differing body temperatures. When Spock raised his hand, his fingers slightly traced the sharp angle of Kirk’s jaw, causing the Captain to slowly close his eyes.
A shiver ran down the human’s spine, when he heard the velvet baritone voice command the Ship’s computer to drop the temperature to a more acceptable heat.
“You don’t have to – “ Kirk began, but was silenced by a pair of firm, hot lips on his. When Spock raised his head again after a few seconds, the look in the gentle eyes was intense and as affectionate as Kirk had ever seen it. His throat closed off in reaction; suddenly he had the feeling that he was not worthy of Spock. Not worthy of the way this closed off Vulcan started to open himself up to him like a delicate flower.
Spock shook his head.
“No. Don’t think that. You have given me so much more in the past months, Jim. I can not hope to give even a fraction of it back to you. However...” A second hand rose and now both of them were cupping the golden, handsome face, tilting it slightly upwards towards him and gazing into the changeable hazel eyes, “... you came to me, because you were looking for comfort. And I will try to give it to you.”
Protest and indignation flared in the face of the human and he tried to extricate himself from the grip of long, slender hands.
“I’m no child. I didn’t look for comfort,” he growled and felt inexplicably nervous. Spock only shook his head, leaning forward and pressing his hot forehead against the cool one.
“You don’t have to hide from me. And I won’t hide from you. Let me comfort you, Jim,” he murmured, pressing another kiss on stubbornly pursed lips.
“I’m not a little kid, Spock...” Kirk murmured, his eyes averted from the curious chocolate eyes. He felt a slow blush of hurt, male pride creep up his neck and felt even more exposed. The Captain broke away from the firm, Vulcan grasp with a growl and drew his broad shoulders slightly up to his ears.
“Forget it. It was a stupid idea. I’m going back to my room,” he croaked, voice hoarse and scratchy and desperately trying to hide the shaking in his hands.
“No. Come with me,” Spock said without any real inflection in that Vulcan voice of his. He took hold of one broad, calloused worker’s hand and pulled the reluctant human with himself towards the bed. Kirk felt distinctly off-balance. The calmness and authority Spock was exuding right now was something he had not been prepared for. Not after the way the gentle creature had shied away from him the whole day.
He was pressed down onto the bed by insistent hands and a stern voice told him to ‘wait here, please.’
Spock disappeared into his bathroom and left a slightly puzzled Kirk sitting on his bed. The man felt alternatively hot and cold and chewed on his lower lip until he realized what he was doing and quickly stopped it.
When the Vulcan came back, he was wearing the same Starfleet-issued regulation pyjama as Kirk. The two men looked at each other from across the short distance of a meter. Kirk still sitting and Spock standing. Time seemed to freeze for a long moment, until Spock seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and came towards the human.
No words were exchanged when they slowly crawled into the bed and carefully started fitting their bodies together again. The pleasurable press and sliding of the two hard bodies against each other, caused their breath to start coming in little pants and silent gasps. However, once they were lying comfortably tucked against one another, they closed their eyes, letting the presence of the other man seep into them.
.oO Day 2 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
Kirk strode into Spock’s room like he owned the place and let himself plop down onto the couch with an angry growl. The Vulcan looked up from the PADD he was currently perusing at his desk and slightly raised the silky, slanted eyebrows, when he saw the frustration of his Captain. He looked towards the clock. 1912. He slowly laid his PADD to the side and clasped his hands together, waiting for Kirk to start his little rant.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Six weeks until we arrive at Triton II. Six weeks in which the Federation can – and probably will – send us on every milk run imaginable. I just can’t stand it,” the Captain growled, curling his right hand into a fist and ramming it down onto the couch. Spock slightly tilted his head to the side.
“We should have anticipated their reaction when we went against their orders and interfered on Prechta,” the Vulcan said calmly.
Kirk shot him a baleful look.
“That does not mean, that I have to like it,” he spat and shot up again from the couch in order to prowl through the room in agitation. Spock was watching the lion in silent adoration; the way the thick muscles perfectly played with one another was hypnotizing.
“No, you probably don’t have to like it,” he murmured a bit lamely; he was too occupied with the curious tingling deep in his belly.
A few hours later they were both lying in Spock’s bunk once more. Lazy kisses were exchanged; the delectable, wet slide of two tongues was causing their breaths to come in short, little gasps. Lips were clinging against one another in slow little sucking motions and hands were carefully petting silky blonde and black hair.
Only the panting breaths and the rustling of their clothes was to be heard inside the silent room. It was very... nice.
Until Kirk slightly slid his hips towards the Vulcan and let him feel the hot, hard length of his erection that was straining against the fabric of his loose pyjama bottoms. It was like a bucket of water was drowned over the Vulcan’s head and his whole body seized up.
Kirk wordlessly cursed and quickly brought a distance between their lower bodies – but it didn’t bring the moment back. So they just waited in awkward silence that was weighing down heavily upon them until the human’s erection had flagged and they could try to find sleep.
‘At least he did not puke again...’ Kirk thought dejectedly.
.oO Day 4 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
He only slipped with his hand under Spock’s pyjama top. He only had wanted to feel that hot, silky skin against his calloused fingertips. But it obviously had been too much for the Vulcan, who had nearly dislodged his arm when he gripped it in a startled reaction and drew it forcefully out from under his clothing.
Again their was an awkward silence reigning.
.oO Day 8 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
Kirk stood in the shower stall, frantically rubbing his angry, pulsing erection, while he pressed his forehead against the cool tiles. It was early in the morning, but Spock was already up and about; he had to observe an experiment in Science Lab 8, which gave the human the opportunity to take care of the ‘little’ problem that had arisen 8 days ago and simply was not getting any remedy.
He knew Spock didn’t make it on purpose. He knew that the Vulcan really tried and that it were purely psychological, instinctual reactions that were causing the man to seize up as soon as their tentative groping went over to heavy petting.
But that didn’t mean that his dick could understand the situation of constantly being engaged in the activity only to be shamelessly ignored. It hurt; not only mentally, but also physically. Kirk was not used to this kind of abstinence and it made the situation increasingly more difficult.
A low moan rumbled out of the depths of his throat, when he rubbed his thumb over the engorged head of his dick, swirling the moisture that had gathered in the slit around the sensitive skin and turning slightly until the hot water of the shower was drumming between his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes and thought of a hot, hard body that felt so exceptionally new and exiting against his own. Kirk bit on his tongue, reaching down with his other hand and cradling his heavy balls in his spread fingers, tentatively rolling them; feeling the hard orbs shift in the sensitive skin.
“NNnggh...” he moaned inarticulately, while his fist started to fly up and down the rigid, thick shaft of his manhood.
It was the thought of gentle, brown eyes that finally brought him to an earth shattering climax that robbed him of any breath for the next, few seconds.
.oO Day 10 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
Kirk was reading a report from an accident in Engineering, while Spock sat on the couch in the Captain’s quarters, his Vulcan harp in his lap. Kirk did not comment upon the failed attempts of the Vulcan to force his fingers into smoother patterns; he was way too humbled by the mere fact that Spock let him in on this. It made him feel like they were progressing somehow – despite their failure to achieve anything in bed.
.oO Day 13 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
“Did you read the new orders?” Kirk was positively fuming, when he stormed into the Vulcan’s quarters and started to prowl agitatedly through the room. Spock sat behind his desk; the very document Kirk spoke of currently on view on the screen of his computer.
It was no surprise that the Captain was here only 10 minutes after its arrival. The Vulcan slowly leaned back and clasped his hands in front of his stomach. He could understand Kirk’s indignation. Another milk run. It really was a disgrace; but he would not say it out loud.
“We don’t have any choice, Jim,” Spock said silently, watching intently the long strides of his Captain, who only growled angrily.
The corners of Spock’s mouth curled upwards ever so slightly. Kirk had come to him in order to vent his frustration. Not to Mr. Scott or Doctor McCoy. No – he went to him.
‘He feels secure with me...’ he thought and savoured the warmth that was pooling through his stomach.
“Do you want to spar?”
Kirk stopped dead in his track and stared slightly dumbfounded at Spock. The Vulcan could understand the human’s surprise; he normally was very reluctant to fight with any of his human crewmembers. His superior strength was simply too dangerous in his opinion. However, he knew that Kirk immensely enjoyed the rare occasions he had managed to convince Spock to spar with him; the Captain just loved the challenge.
A huge grin spread on Kirk’s face and Spock felt a little bit smug.
.oO Day 20 of their journey to Triton II Oo.
A low moan that had nothing to do with the very enjoyable activity from a few moments prior, tore out of Kirk’s throat and he rolled onto his back with an annoyed huff. Damn it, it had only been his thigh! He had only rubbed it against Spock’s crotch. He had only wanted to know if the Vulcan at least somehow enjoyed what they were doing.
But the lean body had frozen – yet again. His erection was pulsing in time with his frantic heart beat and it was twitching in his loose pyjama bottoms.
The Captain threw his arms with an angry growl across his face, until...
“I am sorry, Jim,” came the whispered, slightly choked voice of Spock.
The Vulcan never had said anything after their failed encounters. None of them had said anything. He slowly turned his head, gazing into the gentle, desolate eyes of the creature next to him and felt his ire melt away in the face of Spock’s clear struggle with himself. His blew out a slow breath and stretched one arm.
“It’s not your fault. Come here,” he murmured and the man slid after a moment of hesitation into the embrace. They clung to each other like lost children for the rest of the night.
.oO Day 25 of their journey to Triton II Oo.
“Tell me about Tarsus IV, Jim.”
They were lying in the Captain’s bed; both of them sleepy and exhausted after another sparring session with one another. It was surprisingly satisfactorily to playfully fight with the human; he suspected a large part of his enjoyment was coming from the fact that Jim simply loved sparring and fighting so much that it trickled over the bond they were sharing towards him.
The body in his arms stiffened and Kirk’s head snapped upwards.
“What?” he hissed and drew his eyebrows together. Spock looked calmly at him and tightened the grasp of his arms around the trim waist.
“Please tell me about your time on Tarsus IV, Jim,” he repeated silently. Reluctance and stubbornness closed the handsome face of his Captain off and the golden head turned away.
“Why would you want to know?”
“Because I’d like to know every aspect of your life. And I have the feeling that the experiences on Tarsus IV still are very present in your daily interactions with other people,” he said logically and watched intently the face of the other man.
Kirk shook his head and turned away from Spock. They didn’t have much room to navigate in the close confines of their bunks, so they had to be careful not to accidentally fall out.
“There isn’t much to tell,” the human said. Spock watched the broad shoulders and the strong back of his best friend and slowly reached one hand out in order to place it between slightly shivering shoulder blades.
“Will you tell me someday, Jim?” he asked silently. Silence answered him for a long time and he almost thought the human was already asleep, when there was a silent, high pitched, “Yes.”
“Then that’s enough for me. Thank you,” the Vulcan said with dignity and great respect, before gathering the stubborn, proud man into his arms and spooning behind him.
.oO Day 28 of their journey to Triton II Oo.
Kirk was sitting in Observation Deck 4. He just had had a meeting with the Alpha Shift crew and still felt a little agitated about their talk. Slowly but surely their weekly meetings had developed into highly philosophical debates that left him more often than not contemplating life in all its forms. It was a very curious notion for the hot headed, temperamental Captain and so he often remained in his seat even while the others already were long gone, nursing his drink with both hands and letting his mind come to a semblance of rest.
Tonight, however, it seemed nearly impossible. He was on edge and twitchy and the feeling only got worse over the course of the last week; it was also slowly beginning to impair his command decisions. That in turn made him distinctly annoyed with himself. And Kirk knew better than to enter the rooms of his friend when he was in such a mood; Spock could pick his emotions up like nothing else and Kirk had witnessed often in the past weeks how he had the power to greatly influence what Spock was feeling. He didn’t want to burden the gentle creature by exposing him to his rampant emotions.
“Captain Kirk?”
The tentative voice startled him out of his reverie and he nearly sloshed the liquid in his glass across his lap in his haste to sit upright in the armchair he had been slouching in.
“Um... yes?... Princess Klena..!” he said, the surprise evident in his voice, when he saw the slender figure of the woman in front of him.
He had to say that he had nearly forgotten about his Archnidian passengers. He had practically not seen them since their departure from Tchikon 5 and he was immensely glad for it. Nonetheless, he tried to keep his face neutral as he was looking up to the young woman. She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Her wings were fluttering nervously behind her, causing a slight buzzing to fill the room.
“How can I help you?” he asked in a more professional tone. The young woman was wringing her hands and her big compound eyes were looking shyly at the Captain.
“To be honest I thought, that I could help... you, Captain. You don’t seem to be very happy right now,” she said, taking a step towards him. Kirk’s throat closed off and he stared speechless at her for a few seconds, before he cleared his throat.
“Excuse me...? What do you mean?” he said and cursed himself for how hoarse his voice was sounding.
“I have watched you these past weeks, Captain...”
“You have...?” he cleared his throat, when his voice came out as an undignified squeak and he tried again with a more measured, “You have.”
Huh. He hadn’t even noticed it. Normally his sixth sense for beautiful women was foolproof. Princess Klena stepped even closer; their knees were almost touching.
“Yes I have, Captain. Very intently, if I might add. And you are desperate, are you not? It is obvious that your bond with Mr. Spock is not entirely to your... satisfaction,” she said with a low voice that was gaining in confidence. She slowly leaned down towards him, so their faces were mere inches apart. Kirk could smell the sweet, feminine scent emanating from her and his eyes flicked for the fraction of a second down towards her bosom that was delectably displayed before him.
Urges, that have been denied for nearly a month now, sprang to life with a vengeance. One hand gripped the glass tighter, while the other one curled around the armrest of the chair.
“This is highly inappropriate, Princess – “ he began with a choked voice, but was interrupted by her small, delicate hand, that gently took the glass out of his grasp and placed it on the low table beside the armchair.
“I could make you so much more happy, Captain. I’d be such a good mate to you; I promise,” she whispered and suddenly he had his lap full of a squirming, female body that was perfectly undulating its hips against him.
His head fell back against the headrest without his volition and a rumbling moan made its way out of his throat.
The soft, delicate body pressed itself against him and he could smell her sweet breath, when she brought her face close to his, her mouth open and panting.
“Say yes, Captain. Please; say yes,” she begged, writhing delectably against him, while pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to his lips.
God but how good it felt; he curled his arms around her body, closing his eyes and – freezing in his tracks.
He was not hard. After one month of a constant case of blue balls, he had a more than willing, beautiful woman throwing herself at him – and he was as flaccid as he could get. Everything felt... wrong, for lack of a better term. The soft body against his felt wrong; the supple lips trying to coax him into reciprocation felt wrong. The flowery, sweet scent permeating his very being was wrong.
“Captain...?” Princess Klena whispered, her compound eyes huge and beseeching in her delicate face. Kirk slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. Jesus; who’d have known that the day would come in which James T. Kirk would refuse the advances of such a beautiful creature?
“No,” he said silently, gently raising her from his lap and standing her on her feet, while he himself got out of the armchair. She stared at him obviously confused, her lips slightly trembling.
“N-No? But... but why?” she whispered, curling her fingers into the fabric of his golden shirt. Gently but nonetheless insistently he pried them off his being, holding the tiny hands in his and just shaking his head.
“I just can’t. I belong to him now.”
And how right these words felt. How utterly right.
When he turned around and left the room he felt a bit sad for the utter desolation he had witnessed in the Princess’ features, standing alone now in Observation Deck 4; but mainly he felt fierce elation, for he had a plan...
“Spock. I am a genius,” he declared, when he strode into the heated quarters of the Vulcan. Said Vulcan was currently sitting on his narrow couch, plucking with determination at his harp. Spock looked up, stilling the movements of his jerky hands and slightly tilting his head to one side.
“Of course you are; if a very unorthodox one,” he conceded, a mischievous light in his eyes. Kirk grinned and strode towards him.
“Oh no, no. Stay were you are. You are perfect over there,” he said, when Spock got ready to stand up in order to put the harp away. The Vulcan watched him with silent curiosity but did not question him.
‘Very good,’ Kirk thought. He started to feel nervous and clamped hard down on it; it wouldn’t do in the least if Spock started to get twitchy because he felt the nervousness of his friend. Kirk took the harp gently out of Spock’s grasp and strode towards the shelf, where he placed her with the utmost care. Then he walked back towards the Vulcan, sitting down on the other side of the couch and eying him across the distance separating them.
Spock’s eyebrows twitched minutely in obvious confusion because of the unusual position of his Captain, but was willing to wait and see what he was up to.
When he wanted to command the Ships temperature down so it would suit the physiology of the Captain better, Jim interrupted him.
“No, leave it the way it is. The warmth is better.”
“Better for what, Jim?” Spock asked; he just could not quench his curiosity. A strange light entered the hazel eyes of the man at his side and that deep red tongue he so intimately knew by now, flicked out in order to moisten pale, pink lips.
“May I take off my shirt, Spock?” the human said quietly, never leaving his gaze.
Kirk could see that the Vulcan was slightly taken aback by his request. Nudity has as of yet been no part in their relationship; and he intended to change it now. They needed to finally break that blockade Spock was having, if they wanted to be together in every possible way.
Gentle, brown eyes flicked slightly away and Spock slowly clasped his hands together on his lap.
“If... if you want to,” he acceded with a little hesitation. Kirk tried in vain to hide the slow grin that was starting to stretch his lips.
His movements were crisp and efficient, when he removed his golden tunic, putting his well toned body on display before the Vulcan.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked with a low voice, when he saw Spock’s eyes flick back and forth between Kirk’s muscled pectorals and some point just off to the left. Spock slowly shook his head in mute negation.
Kirk brought his right hand up, placing it over his chest, rubbing the skin that was just the slightest bit moist as a reaction to the hot temperature in the room as well to his increasingly faster beating heart. He watched Spock intently, while he slowly let his fingers drift to one of his own nipples, slowly circling it with his thumb.
His eyes closed and his head fell back, when an electrical charge surged through his body.
“You know, Spock... I thought nearly constantly of you in the past month...” he said, hissing slightly, when he scraped his nail ever so gently over the sensitive peak. His other hand was starting to rub lazy circles above the thickly muscled stomach; fingers dipping every now and again into his belly button.
“You... have,” Spock said; his voice sounded breathless and when Kirk opened his eyes just the fraction of a second in order to peek towards his Vulcan First Officer, he could behold the sight of Spock, pupils blown wide, fisting his hands into the fabric of his regulation black trousers, while clearly transfixed of the display before him.
“Yes... oh yes, I have,” Kirk murmured and arched his back, when he pinched the sensitive nub, before switching to the other one and starting the whole process over again. His voice sounded distinctly hoarse, when he said, “I have imagined how it must feel to have your naked body against mine, Spock. You feel so good beneath those clothes, did you know that? I’d never have thought that...” Slight moan upon pinching his nipple, “... that I would so thoroughly enjoy the hard planes of a male body, but... God, you are exquisite.”
He forced his eyes open in order to look again at Spock. The cheeks of the other man were suffused with a green tinge and his lips were slightly open and glistening as if he had licked them. Kirk moaned.
“So fucking exquisite. Damn...That tongue of yours. It drives me insane to imagine how that sharp tip would feel on my body... licking my nipples...”
As if to somehow showcase it, he rubbed hard with the calloused pad of his thumb across the sensitised flesh and arched off the couch again. The electrical surges were nearly constant now, shooting straight to his cock that was tenting his trousers in obvious arousal.
“May I...?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest, when he laid his hands upon the fastenings of his trousers. Spock seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He only nodded, his eyes still fixed upon Kirk’s chest, while the blush started to spread to the tips of his ears.
It only needed a few efficient movements, before Kirk's smooth dick sprang into his hand. He hooked the elastic band of his regulation briefs under his heavy, aching balls and encased the throbbing, turgid length loosely in his fist.
“Everything all right?” he asked throatily, still watching the Vulcan. Gentle, soft eyes were flickering every now and again towards his crotch; never lingering for long and lowering towards the expanse of couch separating them. Spock was panting as heavily as he was and he could see a distinct bulge in the black fabric of Spock’s trousers. Very encouraging.
“You may look, you know,” he murmured, while lovingly tugging at the thick length in his hand, rubbing his thumb slowly across his glans.
And – would you know it – Spock actually bit his bottom lip, as he shyly raised his gaze, fixing the dilated, dark eyes upon the human shaft and feasting on the debauched picture Kirk made; shamelessly pleasuring himself in front of the Vulcan.
“And I think about how it would feel to be encased by your heat and warmth...” Kirk took his earlier monologue up again. He grimaced, when his cock gave a longing throb and twitched in the tight confines of his hand.
“God, it has to be heaven to be buried inside you... Feel you twitch around me...” the human moaned, his hand starting up a faster rhythm. He swirled the clear fluid gathering at the engorged head with his thumb, lazily spreading it across the hot, silky skin and making his cock glisten enticingly.
“And sometimes I wonder how it’d feel to have you buried in me,” he croaked and barked a short, sharp laugh, pressing his cock into his hand, while almost sobbing in lust, “Can you believe it? I? Asking myself how it would feel to have a cock buried in my ass?”
And that was, when he heard it; a repressed, tiny moan coming right from the direction of the Vulcan. It was like music to his ears; hearing that velvety voice in passion.
Kirk’s eyes snapped open and he beheld the single most beautiful picture he had seen up until now: Spock slouching back, bracing his shoulders against the backrest of the couch, one hand shoved under his blue science shirt, clearly playing with his nipples, while the other was wrapped around...
‘My God...’
... his magnificent shaft that was rising out of his open trousers like a proud pole of ivory. The alien head with its double ridges was flushed a verdant green and it glistened from the juices that were trickling constantly out of the slit at the top.
The slender hand wrapped around the shaft, set a fast rhythm that Kirk was unintentionally mimicking.
“Yes... yesss Spock. God, you are perfect. Perfect. So perfect,” Kirk moaned it like a mantra; he could simply not take his eyes off of the vision before him; never had he seen Spock become this undone. It was intoxicating.
He cradled his balls with the hand currently not gripping his cock in a death choke and started rubbing them. A wicked grin spread across his face.
“Take your balls, Spock. Like me,” he rasped and moaned, when vulnerable chocolate brown eyes opened, fixing trustingly on his, while Spock hesitatingly drew his hand from beneath his shirt and slowly did as he was told.
“Yess... rub them, won’t you?”
Kirk idly wondered if he would get a stroke right here and now, when he watched those delicate, pale hands handling the heavy sack and large penis; Spock, with the deadly efficiency of a Vulcan Scientist started mimicking Kirk’s movements in perfect precision. A deep rumbling moan that sounded like a mix between a growl and a purr, emanated from Spock’s throat and caused an electrical shiver to race down Kirk’s spine and settle at the small of his back.
“That’s right. Oh yes... waited so long for this,” Kirk sobbed, arching his back again and squeezing his churning testicles. He could feel them starting to draw up to his body and his legs fell open as wide as his trousers would let him.
“I’m nearly there, Spock. I’m nearly there. Are you too? Do you feel it? God, Spock...” The Captain said frantically, his hand practically flying over his pulsing erection, spreading the pre-seminal fluid that had gathered at the head across his aching shaft.
“Yes...” It was the first thing Spock had said, since allowing Kirk to remove his shirt and it was the tremor in the deep voice, the utter longing in it, that finally tipped him over the edge.
A hoarse cry ripped out of his throat, while his hips were undulating in time with the spurts of creamy fluid that were coating his abdomen as well as his hands.
He had to force his eyes open in his coital bliss, though, when he heard the strangled moan at his side. Spock was nearly doubled over, one hand gripping his cock so hard that it nearly looked painful, the other one not longer curled around his testicles that were dusted with fine, black hair; instead it was fisted inside the edge of the couch.
Kirk’s mouth went dry, when he witnessed spurt after spurt of thick semen being shot out of the flared head, coating the blue tunic Spock wore in messy, sticky stripes.
For long moments afterwards, there was only the hard breathing of the two men to be heard. When Kirk chanced a glance towards Spock, he saw a wondrous but distinctly elated gleam in the dark depths. His lips slowly spread into a cocky, but affectionate grin.
‘So it is not impossible after all...’ he thought, while gingerly sliding towards the Vulcan and throwing one arm that felt like a overcooked noodle across his shoulders.
Later, when they were lying in bed together, comfortably tucked against one another – they could find the perfect position now as easily as two well trained dancers – Spock murmured into one delicately rounded ear, “How did you know, what to do?”
There were a few moments of silence, before Jim murmured back, “I knew it all the time; I just didn’t realize it. I think I just needed the right... push in order to finally pull my thumbs out of my arse.”
Spock sighed; he didn’t want to argue right now about the illogicality of that statement. Instead he said, “What was this ‘right push’?”
“Princess Klena.”
One silky, black eyebrow drew upwards.
“Oh?”
“She threw herself at me, while I was in Observation Deck 4. I had her sitting on me – practically lap-dancing, you know? And she was smelling so nice and everything, but...”
“But?” Spock didn’t know what he felt at that odd revelation of his friend... and lover. A slight shiver ran down his spine.
“I just couldn’t. I suddenly realized how utterly wrong everything felt. She simply was not... you. So I left her standing there and came right back here.”
The words were spoken quietly, but with a conviction that made all sorts of curious things to Spock’s stomach. The Vulcan tightened his grip around Jim and pressed a kiss into the soft, blonde hair.
.oO Day 31 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
Jim’s quiet confession simply would not leave Spock alone. The Vulcan was not sure if the man himself did realize it, but the fact, that James T. Kirk had shunned a beautiful woman in favour for the Vulcan, was a very big event, indeed.
Spock was contemplating ever since how he could repay Jim for his kindness. How he could give him back even a fraction of what the human had given him in the months prior and especially the last one. When the idea came to him at last, he had to carefully plan how it was supposed to go down; it wouldn’t do to let it end in a disaster yet again.
.oO Day 35 of the journey to Triton II Oo.
Kirk was every now and again peeking above the PADD he was currently perusing and looking over toward his Vulcan that was behaving rather oddly the past couple of days. He seemed strangely... twitchy, for lack of a better term.
He never had seen Spock this nervous. The Vulcan was at the moment trying – yet again – to force his fingers into some semblance of submission, but was failing – yet again.
Golden eyebrows raised, when Spock blew out a breath that was clearly annoyed and carefully lay the harp beside himself, throwing a glance towards Kirk.
The human quickly pretended to have read the report, while his eyebrows drew together in contemplation. What was up with the Vulcan? Shouldn’t he be currently still riding the high together with Kirk? The magnificent orgasm from one week prior still made him grin just by thinking of it. It didn’t even matter, that they since hadn’t engaged in something similar.
“Jim...” Spock said suddenly with that quiet baritone that seemed to ensnare Kirk with such ease. The human raised his head.
“Hm?”
“Would you... come to bed with me?” Large, dark eyes were fixing him with an intense stare. Kirk blinked slightly, gazing over towards the clock.
“Eh? It is only 2100, Spock...”
“Still; will you lie down with me?” came the reply, while the vulnerable eyes were averted and fixed themselves on a point just left to Kirk’s head. The Captain slowly leaned back in his chair, contemplating the Vulcan with a furrowed brow, until he slightly shrugged.
“If you want to...” he murmured dubiously, slowly getting up from his chair and walking over to his sleeping area in order to fetch his pyjama. He had no idea what Spock was getting at, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this. Something very clearly was gnawing at the Vulcan and it was time that he spilled the beans.
Just as Kirk wanted to slip into his pyjama top, however, a hotter-than-human hand stopped him with a gentle touch at his shoulder.
“Leave it...” murmured Spock into his ear. All the little hair at the back of Kirk’s neck stood up instantly at the sudden proximity of the other man.
“Why...?” he asked, slowly turning around. His hazel eyes went wide, when he saw that Spock, too, was only wearing the dark pyjama bottoms, leaving his lean, muscled torso free for the eager inspection of the Captain.
A hot burn started to spread in Kirk’s stomach and he had to lick his lips that were all of a sudden very dry.
“You won’t need it,” murmured Spock. The Vulcan looked nervous and twitchy – and as magnificent as a colt. Kirk’s eyes raked over the black fur covering the pectorals of the other man, down the treasure path that bisected Spock’s flat stomach and disappeared into the drawstring of his trousers.
“Spock...?” Kirk asked, the hopeful, disbelieving question evident in his voice. The Vulcan swallowed heavily, taking the calloused human hand in his and slowly walking backwards towards the narrow bunk.
“Jim, please don’t talk right now. It is difficult enough, as it is,” Spock intoned, his deep voice even more serious than usual; it was thick with a mixture of arousal and fear that tore straight through the Captain, who nodded apprehensively, watching Spock intently.
The Vulcan stopped, when he felt the edge of the bed in his knees and drew the man towards him, pressing their chests against one another.
They moaned when their bare chests made contact for the first time. Kirk’s eyes closed involuntarily at the feeling of the soft fur that was scratching delectable against the smooth skin covering his thick muscles.
‘Never would’ve thought how amazing...’ The thought remained unfinished for Spock chose that moment to bend his head down low and kiss Kirk with an intensive precision that made Kirk’s toes curl in the thick rug under his bare feet.
His lips opened eagerly for the moist, alien tongue, that was lapping inside his mouth, drawing his own tongue out and gently twining itself around.
Kirk raised his arms, curling them around the slender waist of Spock, drawing him nearer. Spock, however, broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together.
“If this is to happen, Jim, you need to follow my instructions,” Spock said, voice husky and trembling; eyes huge and anxious in the pale face. Kirk slowly nodded, watching as Spock turned them around and pressed the human down on the bed.
“Try not to move too much, please. I... want to control what is happening. And I don’t want to lie beneath you,” Spock said silently, kneeling next to the human, who was bracing himself on his elbows, intently watching the Vulcan. Golden eyebrows slowly drew together, watching the shy creature next to him intently.
He could not say that he understood entirely these instructions, but he was willing to try and go along with them; he just couldn’t ignore the frantic pleading of his dick that was already half hard. So he slowly nodded.
Spock let his eyes slowly roam across the expanse of golden, muscled torso in front of him and while the Vulcan looked his fill, Kirk did the same; totally absorbed in the perfect lines of that toned, slender body. Next to Kirk’s thick muscles Spock was looking almost delicate; a fact that was even more fascinating for the human as he knew the Vulcan was easily four times stronger than he.
He was startled out of his silent reverie by Spock slowly rising from the bed and putting his pale, long hands to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.
Kirk’s mouth went as dry as a desert, while his cock made a sudden upwards surge, clearly twitching beneath the loose fabric. His hopeful eyes were alternatively watching Spock’s face and his hands; he almost didn’t dare to believe what was happening, as the Vulcan – cheeks and ear tips flushed a delicate green – pushed the loose fabric down his slender hips and stepped out of it, silently standing in front of his lover in order to give him time to look at him.
Kirk’s lips opened into a silent moan, as he slowly beheld the perfection that was his First Officer. Who would have thought this was lying beneath the Starfleet-issued regulation uniform? Endless, long runner’s legs with a lean musculature; the impressive shaft that was starting to rise out of a nest of thick, silky looking black fur. Kirk’s fingers twitched in his curiosity to explore the alien texture; it really didn’t look as coarse as human pubic hair.
His gaze wandered further over slightly protruding hipbones and the dipping line of a slim waist.
‘By God, but you’re beautiful...’ Kirk thought longingly, biting his lower lip in order to keep himself from speaking the thought out aloud. It wouldn’t do to embarrass the gentle creature even further.
Nonetheless, he could not withhold his moan when Spock bent down towards him, hooking his hot fingers into the waistband of his own pyjama bottoms and efficiently divesting him of the unnecessary fabric, after Kirk eagerly raised his hips towards him in order to help the alien.
Kirk slid further up the narrow bed, when Spock crawled onto it, in order to make room for the tall alien, until he was half sitting, his broad shoulders braced on the headboard and an uncertain Vulcan gingerly straddling his thighs.
Hazel eyes locked together with chocolate brown ones and for a few endless seconds both men just sat there, marvelling at how long they had come until this moment.
Their breathing slowed and got deeper; inhaling the scent of the other body. Kirk wanted to touch the slim Vulcan. He wanted to touch him so badly...!
But the instructions had been rather clear in that regard, so he just fisted his hands slowly in the bedding next to his hip.
He thought his heart would explode, when Spock finally slowly bent his head towards Kirk’s chest.
“I believe in our last encounter you mentioned something about my... tongue, did you not?” he whispered; hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin, caressing the nipple that was already eagerly rising in anticipation.
Kirk’s eyes rolled back into his head, when the pointed, devilish tip of the Vulcan tongue touched the hardened nub, circling it a few times, before lapping at it with short, kittenish licks.
“Gooood...” Kirk moaned breathily, his head falling back against the headboard, while the Vulcan brought one hand up towards the neglected nipple and playing with it, until he thought the first one appropriately chastised and switched towards the other one, starting the delicate seduction all over again; coaxing the tender flesh into a nearly agonizing peak and soothing the throbbing with massaging swipes of the hot, alien tongue.
Spock slightly wiggled on his place on Kirk’s thighs, inching forwards every so often, until the leaking tip of his phallus slightly grazed the heavy balls of his commanding Officer.
Kirk nearly jack-knifed of the bed and choked back a longing moan. This hot, hard flesh against his own... never had he thought... never...
A low, growling sound was constantly streaming out of the depths of Spocks chest now, vibrating into Kirk’s very being, while the Vulcan very carefully sidled upwards and fitted their erections together.
“J-Jim...” Spock moaned, helplessly and without any finesse thrusting against his lover; their cocks slipping against each other in a delectable friction that was not nearly enough.
Kirk was panting with an open, glistening mouth, reciprocating the hot kisses Spock was bestowing upon him. The long, slender hands were lying upon broad shoulders, gripping them for dear life, while his inexperienced hips were rutting against the other man and his tongue was licking into the open, inviting mouth.
Deep, guttural groans were being wrenched out of the men, their emotions absorbed and rebounded in the double by each other, drawing them higher and higher in their need.
All of a sudden, however, Spock pried himself away from Kirk, stopping his motions altogether and just staring at the human, while panting like an animal in heat.
‘Please don’t stop... not now... Oh please, Spock, don’t do this to me...’ Kirk thought frantically, gripping the sheets of the bed so hard that his joints were starting to protest. He nearly sobbed, when Spock leaned away from him, towards his bedside table.
He could not leave him now that his testicles were a hot mess of churning, insatiable desire and his cock was pulsing, steadily leaking clear pre-cum that was sluggishly sliding down his shaft...
Spock did not leave him.
He only retrieved something from the upper drawer of the bedside table, prying Kirk’s right hand loose from the bedding and pressing a tube inside his open palm.
“Wha...” Kirk mumbled, trying to fix his bleary eyes onto the tube and flushing red hot, when he realized it for what it was; lube.
“I thought it would be needed...” Spock said quietly, the green of his flush slowly spreading down his neck to is shoulders.
The thought of Spock standing at one of the medical replicators and punching in the combination for lube – with the sole intent of bedding his Captain, no less – was so intoxicating, that Kirk’s eyes rolled back into his head for a second.
Had Spock been flushed with embarrassment like he was now?
“Jim?” came the uncertain, deep voice. “Don’t you want to...”
“Oh yes... yes I want to. Damn, and how I want to...” Kirk muttered, grinning at Spock like a mad man and popping the cap of the tube open.
“May I touch you?” he asked silently, receiving a sardonic eyebrow in return.
“I thought it impossible to achieve what we are about to do, without any touching...”
“Cheeky Vulcan...” Kirk murmured, while squeezing a good amount of the lube onto the fingers of his right hand. He let the tube fall down on the bed next to them and carefully wound his left arm around Spocks waist, drawing the upright kneeling man closer towards him.
The flushed, verdant cock of his companion, brushed against the smooth skin of his pectorals; he could smell the spicy scent of Spock’s arousal and closed his eyes slowly, savouring it for a moment.
“Jim...” Spock whispered slightly, his voice trembling. Kirk slowly let his head fall back against the headboard and opened his eyes again, locking gazes with Spock. The Vulcan slowly entwined his long, slender fingers in the thick, golden hair of his lover in order to find purchase somewhere.
His eyes were huge and vulnerable, when the warm, calloused hand of Kirk gently gripped his left buttock, slicked fingers gliding into the cleft and slightly running up and down.
He could feel the shudder going through the lean body, when he delved between the firm globes, seeking and finding that hidden entrance that had been so abysmally abused.
A tight sob forced its way out of Spock’s throat, while soft, brown eyes clenched tightly shut.
“Shhh...” Kirk soothed, while slick fingers circled the trembling, clenching pucker.
“Want to stop here?” he asked silently, his voice low and husky. He could see the distinct flagging of Spock’s erection and felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Spock determinedly shook his head.
“No. It’s.. it’s all right. I only need to accustom myself to the... feeling. Please proceed,” came the trembling baritone back.
Kirk sighed slightly. Spock was as stubborn as he was. A wry smile tucked at the corners of his mouth and he strained upwards in order to nuzzle against the silken fur on Spock’s chest; it really was as soft, as it looked; it felt like the pelt of a cat.
With the first lick of his tongue against green flushed nipples, the first part of his pointer finger eased himself inside the tight passage...
It took a long time; coaxing Spock down from his anxiety and fear, until he was calm enough to tentatively accept the soft brushing of lips against his sensitive nubs or the sweet friction of a cheek against the hair on his chest. The intrusion of the fingers, at first nearly agonizing though so very tentatively done, slowly but surely morphed into something akin to... longing.
When Kirk’s calloused fingers graced a point inside him he never had wasted a thought to, a silent moan was forced out of his throat and Spock’s hips started carefully undulating upon the intruding digits.
The Captain was very thorough in his preparation of the tender, tight orifice; when he finally pulled his fingers back with a wet squelch, his hand as well as Spock’s crevice were thoroughly glistening from the generous amount of lube the Captain had used.
“You ready?” he asked, staring into the soft, brown depths of Spock’s eyes. The Vulcan’s lips, swollen and green tinged from the long, deep kisses they had been exchanging, were open and panting. He slowly unwound his fingers from Kirk’s hair and brought his hands down upon the broad, golden shoulders, tentatively nodding.
“You go as fast or slow as you want...” Kirk murmured, while leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Spock’s collarbone. He reached down, encircling his throbbing erection with his fist; it gave an almost painful jerk, that made Kirk drew his breath sharply in.
He held himself at the right angle, while the man on his lap slowly but surely brought himself down upon him – impaling himself on the thick, hard length.
Every now and again the Vulcan hesitated, his forehead pressed intimately against Kirk’s, his eyes tightly shut. Kirk could see tears glistening at the corners of the eyes, trapped in the long lashes, while the hot, tight channel twitched spasmodically around his angrily pulsating erection.
A tight moan forced its way out of his throat and he carefully curled his arms around Spock, murmuring reassuring nonsense.
When Spock was finally seated in his lap, Kirk thought, that he could happily die right then and there. The hotness engulfing his shaft was pure, molten heaven and the delectable prickling at the back of his head told him that the Vulcan slowly but surely caught on to the positive waves of euphoria radiating from his bed mate.
However, he quickly withdrew the notion again, when Spock tentatively started rocking.
“Holy hell...” Kirk moaned, his head falling back, his mouth opened wide in order for him to draw enough breath into his lungs.
It was an achingly slow climb; soft rolling of hips, tentative rising and falling, gentle pressure of long, slender hands that were bracing themselves on his pectorals until...
Spock found that spot again. That sweet spot that caused an instant heat to explode inside his belly that was spreading fast throughout his body.
A long, drawn out moan was ripped from him and he started moving faster, holding that sweet angle that allowed him to precisely rub the thick head of Kirk’s erection against that pleasure spot; nerve endings in his rectum were starting to ignite in a most pleasurable way and his erection – up until now only half full – came back with a vengeance, causing the Vulcan to whimper slightly in his need.
Kirk grinned like a maniac, while latching his mouth onto one creamy shoulder.
‘Finally...’
Hot sliding of skin against skin; wet breath mingling between open, panting lips; moist tongues lazily rubbing against one another; a ring of muscle twitching every now and again, nervously fluttering against the thick, hot rod embedded inside the slender body.
Kirk’s climax was starting to build. He curled his hand around Spock’s twitching shaft, that was weeping copious amounts of pre-cum onto his belly; his other hand lovingly cradled heavy, low hanging testicles that were covered with the same, silken fur as the rest of Spock’s body. He felt the firm orbs in his hands starting to draw up and knew that Spock was just as close as he.
‘Now or never...’ he thought sluggishly and allowed his hips to do what they had wanted the whole time: rock up into the delectable friction the Vulcan was so innocently and clumsily providing with the slightly uneducated rolling of his hips.
Spock emitted a low, keening sound, when he felt the reciprocation of his mate.
It didn’t last long until hot, creamy semen was released with hoarse, incredulous shouts.
They were clinging to one another, panting and exhausted. Kirk wrapped his hands around the Vulcan, slowly rocking him and planting soft kisses all over the pointed ears, while his slowly shrinking penis slipped out of the well-loved orifice.
Somehow Spock had managed to get up and bring them some towels in order to clean themselves. They didn’t say anything. However, the atmosphere was distinctly satiated and full of tender warmth. When they snuggled at last up together, it was the most natural thing in the world for the human to press his lips intimately against the shell of one delicately pointed ear and whisper, “I love you.”
Spock did not reply, but the arms tightening around him in an almost crushing embrace were enough. They slept.
When Kirk was awoken he could not tell what time it was. He felt disoriented and his body was heavy with the languid tranquillity it always had after a bout of great sex.
He wondered why he was awake, until he heard again what must have eased him out of his sleep: the gentle, melodic sound of distinct, clear tones. His mouth fell open slightly in astonishment when he slowly crept out of the bed – he was alone in there – and padded around the divide of the sleeping alcove in order to fix his eyes upon his Vulcan.
Sitting gloriously nude upon the slightly more comfortable couch of the Captain’s quarters, his earlier abandoned harp on his lap and playing with an ease that spoke of all the days prior to the attack of the Andorians.
Kirk’s mouth went dry, when he watched the long, slender hands move fluently and full of grace across the strings, plucking at them with a gentle care that was reminiscent of how he had touched his lover only a few hours prior.
When the song faded and Spock opened his eyes, Kirk’s lips slowly started to stretch themselves into a broad grin.
And how could they not? Spock’s eyes; these soft, gentle, deep, soulful brown eyes, were alight with elation and happiness and love; for him.
There was still a long road ahead of them, but Kirk knew in that moment that they would overcome everything; they were, after all, the best team Starfleet ever had.
.oO EPILOGUE Oo.
Kirk was patiently waiting in front of the huge building his mate had disappeared into roughly one hour prior. The heat on Vulcan was as immense as always, but he was wearing light clothing and he was somewhat used to the extreme temperatures by now.
He was humming silently, while he sat on a bench across the street and perused the PADD in his lap that was holding the next orders from Starfleet. They obviously were no longer in disgrace, for the next mission sounded very intriguing indeed.
Finally the Enterprise was back on course and the feeling was immensely satisfying.
The Captain grinned slightly, when he felt the presence of Spock emerging from the house. In the last month he had started to attune himself to the curious presence the Vulcan held inside the back of his head. It was an entirely new feeling; but a welcome one.
He waited until Spock seated himself beside him and then shut off his PADD. He looked up into the eyes of the gentle creature next to him.
“Well? What did the healer say?” he inquired. Spock tilted his head slightly, his eyes avoiding the inquisitive stare of his mate.
Golden eyebrows shot up.
“Spock...?” he asked with a sinking feeling. The eyebrows of the Vulcan twitched slightly and Spock squared his shoulders.
“Well. It seems like what we share is no I’ki sa-kai bond, after all. At least no more,” he said quietly, gravely. Kirk felt like his stomach was plummeting through the ground.
“What do you mean? What is it then?”
Spock was silent for a few moments, turning his head away in contemplation and then sighing deeply, while clasping his hands neatly together in his lap.
“It is a bond. Just not what we have – that is, I – have thought.”
Kirk uttered a sound full of impatience and he growled, when he saw the mischief dance in Spock’s deep eyes, while the face of the Vulcan remained perfectly neutral.
A long, pale hand slowly seized his own, intertwining their fingers.
“Jim... Let me tell you about the bond called T’hy’la...”
THE END