Chapter Text
Chris sighed deeply as the Prime Minister bound his and Lieutenant Spock’s forearms with an embroidered sash. He was almost absolutely certain this was a marriage ceremony.
It wasn’t like this was Chris' first alien-welcoming-ceremony-turned-legally-non-binding-marriage-ceremony . He was at least hoping that this one did not require consummation of the marriage. Or at least not a public one, something he knew some of his peers had experienced. He had been married to Una a few times, usually when the aliens in question had two or three general sexes and/or genders, two of which aligned (to various degrees) with general human male and female gender expression. They had only been required to consummate one of those and agreed never to speak of it again.
Most other times he had been married to a random, unfortunate lieutenant. So far, none of these had required sexual contact in ways considered culturally sexual to either party involved. On Arroza II, he and Lieutenant Cisneros only had to press their noses together and pour wine over each other’s heads to be recognized as spouses by the High Priestess of Arrozalan. The one time he had been married to M’Benga had been the only other time a form of human-esque sexual couplation had been required. This was fortunate in its own way, since Chris trusted M’Benga with his life.
He and M’Benga had decided their roles based on Starfleet guidelines for situations like these -- it was recommended that higher-ranking officers take the “welcoming” position, low-ranking officers taking the “gifting” position, though this was not a hard and fast rule. It could change based on the level of comfortability in the situation and of the officers’ relationship to each other. Chris had no qualms letting his CMO come in his mouth, though, so that’s how that particular situation had been resolved.
That situation was not like this situation, Chris quickly discovered.
Still, Chris was not particularly surprised when the Prime Minister tapped the embroidered binding tying him and Spock together three times with the spine of an ancient tome and declared, “May the procreation portion of the ceremony commence!”
The rest of the Starfleet diplomatic party around them, except M’Benga and Una, had been fidgeting in the corner of Chris' eye as the situation slowly revealed itself. At the Prime Minister’s declaration, Chris was sure he saw one of the three xenoanthropology officers start to hyperventilate.
Before anyone could speak up, Chris did.
He pasted on his most endearing expression. It may not have worked on the Exhosian Prime Minister, since Exhosians had far more facial muscles and nuanced expressions than most Federation species. But it was worth a shot.
“Human and Vulcan ceremonies—” (Chris excluded the word marriage, as this may be some other type of friendship or bonding ceremony— though he knew from the cultural briefing that marriage did exist as an institution on this planet.) “—may be a little different from Exhosian ceremonies. Could you extrapolate on this part of the ceremony?”
The Prime Minister, for their part, only blinked once before launching into a detailed explanation that very much had nothing to do with procreation, since partners who could not produce offspring together could participate, but did very much fall under the category of sexual acts for both Humans and Vulcans.
And the Prime Minister was clear that this was meant to be a public act, to be completed as soon as possible. Now, preferably. In front of the twenty or so witnesses in the room.
Chris managed to contain a weary sigh.
Luckily, M’Benga swooped in to save them. The xenoanthropologists looked like wanted to melt into the floor.
“Prime Minister, I understand that this part of the ceremony is very culturally significant. But for the most part, Captain Pike and Lieutenant Spock’s cultures consider public copulation to be extremely taboo.”
The Prime Minister blinked a few more times at that statement. Some murmurs were starting up at the edges of the room.
“I’m—I’m sorry, but,” the Prime Minister looked thoroughly confused, “How do you confirm that the consummation of the marriage has taken place?”
Ah, so it was a marriage.
“Historically, a physician of some kind would examine the receiving participant. I can take on this role as I am both participants’ primary physician, or if you would prefer one of your own physicians to confirm the consummation, that may also be arranged.”
Chris glanced at the Vulcan next to him. Lieutenant Spock seemed to be interested in M’Benga’s words but his outward expression was placid as a still lake.
Chris didn’t know Lieutenant Spock very well. The only reason Spock seemed to be in this particular situation with Chris at this moment was that they had beamed down next to each other for the first landing party excursion to this planet. Since then they had been intentionally seated next to each other in every meeting. But that had been the only evidence that the Exhosians considered Spock Chris'…life partner? Lover? Who knew.
Most Starleet officers knew they could find themselves in this situation, and were trained on how to conduct themselves and negotiate the situation they were in to their best advantage. It seemed that this was as good as it was going to get.
From previous research, this type of ceremony was considered critical to building relationships between the dominant culture and other people groups on the planet. Effectively, there was no getting out of it.
As M’Benga ironed out the situation and arranged for a private guest room for he and Spock to use for the consummation of their non-binding marriage, Una kept sneaking mirthful looks over her shoulder at the two of them. The second the Exhosians gave the officers some space, the xenoanthropologists tripped over themselves to apologize to both him and Spock for not gathering the appropriate information on this ceremony. Chris waved their apologies off and then he and Spock were whisked into a much too lavish guest room with M’Benga attending.
Finally away from the Exhosians, M’Benga gave the old song and dance— consent, mental health resources, etc.
“I explained to them that neither of you have the appropriate anatomy for oviposition, so I’ll be the one confirming everything for them. We almost got out of it on that alone, but they decided since there is no one currently serving on the Enterprise with that type of reproductive structure, you two will do. They want a sample directly taken from one of you of the other’s gametes. However you want to play that is up to you—you’re both familiar with the guidelines for deciding that?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Spock confirmed verbally. Chris nodded—M’Benga knew he knew, they had been in a similar situation together, after all.
M’Benga nodded, and confirmed they had the entire night (analogous to a human wedding night, as the doctor had explained to the Exhosians) to consummate, and then left.
They were finally alone.
Chris looked down at their embroidered binding. It was a beautiful blend of reds, pinks, and oranges.
“Let’s get this off before anything,” He said as he lifted their forearms together and picked at the knot.
Spock was quiet. Chris could feel the lieutenant’s eyes on him as Chris unraveled the knot.
Chris wrapped the material up and placed it on a delicate Exhosian dressing table, before taking a seat at the vanity.
“Spock, you know we don’t have to do—”
“Captain.”
Chris glanced up at the lieutenant. He couldn’t read the Vulcan’s expression at all. Spock turned and took his own seat on the edge of the half-circle Exhosian bed.
“I would prefer to have this conversation sitting across from each other, if possible.”
Chris weighed his level of comfort with Spock’s request. He didn’t mind.
As Chris settled down on the bed, an arm’s length between the two of them, Spock turned to face him.
Spock’s body language was extremely open. That was interesting.
“Captain,” Spock began after a few moments of silence. “I am not adverse to copulating with you.”
Chris waited. It felt like Spock had more to say.
He did. “I would like to caution that for Vulcans, touch telepathy is often an inherent part of sexual intercourse. For this reason, I understand if you do not wish to copulate with me with this information in mind.”
Chris blinked. And then considered. Was this a way for Spock to give himself an out, so he didn’t have to admit he was not comfortable with engaging in a sexual act with his Captain? Somehow that didn’t seem likely. If Spock was uncomfortable, Chris got the impression he would be more straightforward about it.
“Spock, do you mind if I ask a question? And I’d like to preface it with the fact that I always ask this question to a person I find myself in this situation with.”
At Spock’s nod, Chris asked, “If you and I were not in this situation, and I was not your superior officer,” Chris allowed himself to chuckle, “And all that implies, of course— would you actually want to have sex with m—“
“Yes,” Spock interrupted bluntly.
Chris shut his mouth. Then opened it again to ask, “…Yes?”
That wasn’t a question but he wanted to confirm.
“Yes,” Spock confirmed.
Well.
They sat looking at each other.
“Would you like me to elaborate?” Spock asked and Chris' brain started working again.
Spock spoke up again before Chris could decide if he wanted to hear about Spock’s fantasies of his captain and commanding officer.
“May I ask the same of you?”
Chris blinked, then realized what Spock was asking.
“Do I believe I would have sex without if you were not an officer serving under me and if we were not in this current situation?” He confirmed.
Spock only looked at him, head tilted ever so slightly. In thought, it seemed.
It didn’t take very long for Chris to reach his own conclusion.
“Yes.”
Divorced from their work relationship, Spock was extremely attractive. From the cut of jaw, to the sharp ridges of his knuckles, to the way the blue of the science uniform stretched across his chest and the piercing look of his eyes. Spock was tall, his hair looked magnificently soft, and Chris could easily imagine sliding his hand over those shoulders, down his strong back…
Chris' voice was even as he continued.
“Yes, yes I would,” he said with a wry smile.
Something…hungry was blooming in his gut.
Spock continued to look thoughtful.
“If you are consenting to sex in this situation with the knowledge that I will be able to know your surface level thoughts for the duration of our copulation then I suppose the next logical question is… how would you like to proceed, Captain?”
“Firstly, we should dispense with the formalities, don’t you agree?”
Spock looked like he was actually thinking about it.
“If you prefer.”
Chris held Spock’s gaze for a heavy moment.
“Do you often use formal terms of address with others during sexual intercourse?”
Spock didn’t miss a beat.
“Yes.” Spock’s head tilted even further. His dark eyes were so bright in the Exhosian sunlight streaming in from the windows. “To great effect,” the Vulcan added.
Then Spock’s voice dropped to a murmur as he maintained eye contact, asking, “May I continue calling you captain, sir?”
A hot knife of arousal was suddenly, dizzyingly buried in Chris' gut.
The tension in the room pulled taut. They were staring at each other. Chris hadn’t noticed when Spock had shifted his weight onto his hand so his upper body was leaning towards Chris, but the lieutenant was a great deal closer now. Chris could see the barest shadow of chest hair as the collar of Spock’s uniform slipped down.
“You may,” Chris finally said, quietly. The tension of the situation, of their proximity, pulled tighter.
Chris managed to drag his eyes away, glancing down at the comforter of the alien half-circle bed beneath them.
“I would prefer to call you Spock though, if that’s alright.”
Some of the tension leached out with Chris' request, but the atmosphere was still heavy.
“You may,” Spock answered, using Chris' own words.
Chris looked back up at Spock. Spock’s body language was open to him. Welcoming. Inviting. Still, he didn’t want to make assumptions.
“How do you want to do this? Starfleet guidelines—”
“I would like to welcome you.”
Chris' blood pooled low and tight in his stomach. He took a deep, low breath before confirming, “You’re sure?”
“To begin with, at least. If you are amenable.”
“I am,” Chris replied immediately. Heat pooled heavily in his stomach, at the thought of spreading—
“I would like to begin now, if you are also amenable.” Spock’s low murmur ripped through Chris. Spock’s hand was sliding next to his now, the barest skin of Spock’s pinky brushing against Chris'.
Chris felt his body move forward, closing the distance between them. Up close, every detail of Spock’s face striking. His hooded eyes, his sharp brow, the barest shadow of his jaw, his plush lower lip. They were breathing each other’s breath as Spock slid his dry, soft hand over top of Chris'.
Chris' arousal suddenly felt like it had doubled, no, tripled. The heat in Chris' stomach fanned violently into a wildfire, before it banked suddenly.
Spock was gasping against Chris' lips.
“My apologies,” Spock didn’t sound very apologetic, as his lips brushed against Chris'. They were kissing, and parting, brushing and meeting. “I—”
So that was touch telepathy.
It was dazzling.
Chris didn’t let Spock finish, hand twisting up to harshly grip Spock’s hand in his own. He brought his other arm under Spock’s to yank him flush against Chris' own chest.
He placed his mouth on Spock’s properly, feeling the rough bite of beard growth and groaning lowly, hungrily at the sensation. Spock’s free hand twisted in Chris' hair as Spock slipped his tongue into Chris' mouth. Chris chased the sensation and Spock met him until it was simply not enough.
They parted, Spock tugging Chris down. Chris went, happily, the breath of a low, “ Captain ,” on his ear.
Chris only hoped the Exhosian wedding bed was up to the task.