Chapter Text
It has been observed by three individuals in Spock’s life that he is “not much one for parties.”
Michael had been the first- he had thought she was being serious at the time, given that he had only been six years of age, but now he realizes she was being facetious, since the party in question had been a gathering of high society Vulcans at their home. She had followed that statement by declaring she was also not much one for parties, and convinced him to go upstairs with her and watch an animated Terran film from the late 1980’s- the Little Mermaid.
He had, in fact, enjoyed the film (and constructing a makeshift tent that Michael referred to as a “pillow fort”) much more than the party.
The second person to state that was former Fleet Captain Christopher Pike, back when Spock was still an ensign. His observation came as a result of Spock not engaging with the other crew members at the Enterprise’s annual holiday party. When Spock confirmed that he was, in fact, not much for parties, Pike had laughed and given him a cup of a beverage known as “hot cocoa.”
Spock does not remember the rest of that party, nor does he wish to.
The third person was Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, who had said so at a recent gathering celebrating a successful first contact mission. She had very clearly been teasing him, something that, deep down, Spock found pleasing- between her, Nurse Chapel, Dr. M’Benga, and Spock himself existed a sort of special comradery, founded in the days when Pike was still captain.
In a sense, they are his closest friends, save for one person in particular.
Still, the observation made by Michael, Pike, and Nyota is true- Spock is indeed not much one for parties. Were he not Vulcan, it would be accurate to say that he rather dislikes them, dislikes the noise that comes with them and the expectation to engage in pointless social niceties and activities.
At the very least, the sort of function that he is currently attending is much more formal than those types of parties- the post-inauguration ball for the Altairian president is a black-tie affair, after all, so there is no need for loud music or party games.
Still, Spock is not much for the typical conversations with diplomats and the upper echelon of the system’s social hierarchy, nor is he much for more formal dancing, so he is very grateful that he has a captain who is inclined towards such things. It makes it simple for Spock to excuse himself back to the senior officers’ table, where he is able to remotely look over some of the work he has fallen behind on while under the influence of the blood fever-!
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Or, at least, he was. Spock bites back a sigh, glancing up at Christine. She smirks back at him, arms folded behind her back.
“It is not hiding when one is sitting in plain sight, Nurse Chapel.”
Christine rolls her eyes, gathering the skirt of her gown- a blue chiffon piece with a sweetheart neckline- before taking the seat next to Spock’s- technically it belongs to Nyota, but as she is currently at the bar speaking animatedly to an Andorian man, Spock doubts she will mind.
“Spock, we’ve known each other for almost ten years. Hell, you were in my wedding party. You can call me Christine.”
“May I remind you that we are currently on duty?” Spock replies, his tone light enough that he is certain that Christine won’t take it as him reprimanding her.
“Only technically,” Christine replies easily. “Otherwise I doubt that Leonard would be allowed to nurse a flask like that.”
Spock pauses, turning back towards the bar. Sure enough, McCoy is leaning against the wall, drinking from a silver flask and gazing wistfully at…
“Is Dr. McCoy upset with Lieutenant Uhura?”
“You could say that,” Christine replies breezily before leaning her elbows onto the table. “Anyway, I… well, I just wanted to make sure you were alright, after… y’know. Everything.”
Spock pauses, gratitude and guilt rolling through him before he pushes it down.
“I am functioning optimally.” He hesitates. “I… apologize for my behavior towards you.”
Christine snorts, leaning back in her chair and waving him off.
“Oh, Spock, it’s fine. You were grumpy because you were sick, I’ve seen it a million times before.”
“It is not fine. You were attempting to comfort me, and in response I threw hot soup at you.”
Christine gives him a look Spock knows she reserves for her most stubborn of patients- notably, one James T. Kirk.
“I’m a nurse, you think that’s the first time someone’s thrown something at me when I’m trying to help them?”
Spock hesitates again, thinking over his words carefully.
“You screamed,” he finally says quietly. “I frightened you.”
Something in Christine’s eyes softens, and she smiles.
“Alright, you did kind of startle me, Spock. And while I’d prefer it didn’t happen again, I’m not gonna hold it against you. You were sick, it happens.” She reaches over, patting him lightly on the forearm. “No harm done.”
Spock resists the urge to sigh, then pauses as a whisper floats into his ear.
“... do you think they’re really together?”
“Well, I didn’t, but come on, how many people does Commander Spock let touch him like-!”
Spock turns towards the source of the whispering, and the two ensigns startle, quickly dispersing.
“Now what was that for?”
“I believe those two ensigns were gossiping about their belief that you and I are engaged in a romantic relationship.”
Christine groans, and when Spock turns to her he sees she has thrown her head back in played-up dismay.
“God, what do I have to do, get Erica’s name tattooed on my forehead?”
“I believe most people simply wear a wedding ring.”
“Yeah, but it’d be annoying to have to take it off and put it back on all day.” Christine sighs. “I’m glad Erica took the job on the Herald, and I’m so proud of her, but god do I miss having her around.”
Spock hums nonchalantly in response, and Christine stiffens slightly.
“Ah, shit, Spock, I’m sorry.”
Spock blinks, lifting one eyebrow.
“For what?”
“Well, here you are freshly dumped, and I’m complaining about missing my wife. Kind of a dick move.”
“Nurse Chapel-”
“Christine.”
“Christine, you are aware that T’Pring and I terminated our romantic relationship approximately five point two years ago-!”
“Yes, Spock, I know, I was also at the dinner in Pike’s quarters when you announced it.” She grinned. “And at the bar that Erica dragged you to when we took shore leave right after.”
“I still do not understand why she was so insistent on that.”
“It’s tradition. A friend gets dumped, you take them out to drink the pain away.”
“Due to my Vulcan physiology, alcohol does not have the same effect on me that it does on Humans.”
“It’s the principle of the thing, Spock,” Christine replies. “Anyway, not my point. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and T’Pring. Again.”
Spock takes a breath, considers his words carefully.
“Kaiidth,” he finally settles on.
“Yeah, I know, it is what it is, but it still sucks.” Christine smiles sadly. “You guys used to be really happy together, y’know?”
There is a part of Spock that wants to refute that, though whether it is because Vulcans could not be happy or because looking back, he isn’t sure he truly was happy with T’Pring, he is uncertain. In the end, he decides against it, allowing himself to send a small smile towards Christine.
“Thank you.”
She smiles back, but before either of them can continue to speak a figure catches Spock’s eye.
“Christine, do you perhaps know the current location of the USS Herald?”
“Huh? Uh, yeah, it’s somewhere near Betazed, why?”
“Because Lieutenant Commander Ortegas is currently approaching our table.”
Christine’s eyes go wide, her head whipping around just as Ortegas starts laughing.
“Erica!” Christine shouts, clearly delighted as she nearly knocks her chair over in her attempts to stand up.
“Surprise!” Ortegas replies with a grin, holding her arms out as Christine runs to her. They embrace almost forcefully, Christine’s skirts swishing as Ortegas stumbles back.
Despite himself, the corners of Spock’s lips quirk upward.
“You! You little- what are you even doing here, you’re supposed to be headed for Betazed right now!”
“I pulled a few strings,” Ortegas says. “Might owe a few favors now, but hey, I get to see my favorite nurse, so it’s worth it.”
Christine’s cheeks flush, and she is nearly grinning too widely to properly kiss Ortegas, though she very quickly fixes that issue.
The kiss lasts longer than Spock expected. He decides it would be polite to look away, which is when his eyes fall on another familiar figure- that of one Captain James T. Kirk, clad in his green dress uniform and speaking to McCoy with amusement glittering in his eyes.
And despite himself, despite everything that Spock is and has ever strived to be, he cannot help it- fondness, relief, and guilt bubble up in him unbidden.
Yesterday, he nearly lost his Captain.
His friend.
Perhaps the closest friend he has, with Michael long since lost to him and Pike left in the care of the Talosians.
And it was by Spock’s own hand that he nearly lost him.
Jim has told him that it was not his fault, that he wasn’t in control of himself- that he had even tried to beg T’Pau to bar Jim from being chosen as T’Pring’s champion, despite the plak tow eating away at his sanity- but Spock, for all that he is Vulcan, cannot let this very Human guilt go.
Jim laughs at something McCoy mutters too quietly for Spock to hear, and Spock thinks of how close he came to never hearing that precious sound again.
Spock blinks, brow furrowing slightly.
Precious?
He has never had that thought in relation to the captain before. He has thought many things of Jim- that he is brilliant, that he is stubborn, that he walks through life charming all who cross his path- but never that particular quality.
Curious.
Spock does not have long to think on that, however, because the captain’s gaze turns to him. Jim’s eyes light up, and Spock’s heartbeat increases rapidly before he is able to get it under control.
And yet curiouser.
Jim says something that makes McCoy roll his eyes rather overdramatically- Spock is too far away, even with his Vulcan hearing, to make out most of it, but he picks his own name out, sending his heartbeat up yet again despite his focus on it.
Perhaps he would speak to Dr. M’Benga about it once they returned to the ship. Spock did not think it had anything to do with his Time, but it could be cause for concern.
Jim starts walking towards him then, and Spock yet again forgets what he was thinking about, his attention captured by how the light from the chandelier above them glints in Jim’s golden hair.
Spock’s typical body temperature falls closer to the norm for Vulcans than Humans, but with every step Jim takes towards him he feels warmer- not feverish, as he had felt before, but pleasantly, like sitting beside the fireplace on a rare rainy day on Vulcan.
“Mr. Spock, don’t tell me you’re actually working right now,” Jim says, the teasing tone in his voice evident.
“It is logical to catch up on the work that I have missed due to my-!” Spock begins, only to find himself cut off when Jim takes the PADD out of his hands. He blinks, arching an eyebrow as Jim sits in the seat next to him- which actually was assigned to him- and places the PADD on the table. “Sir?”
“As captain, I’m ordering you to refrain from work for the rest of the evening.” Jim smiles softly. “You’ve had a long week, you deserve to have some fun.”
“I assure you, I enjoy my work.”
Jim rolls his eyes, then pauses, eyes widening as if surprised by something behind Spock’s head. Spock turns towards what he is looking at, only to find that Christine and Ortegas are still kissing.
Quite deeply, at this point.
Jim clears his throat.
“Er, Nurse Chapel?”
Christine’s eyes fly open, a sound coming from somewhere in her throat as she breaks away from Ortegas. Her lipstick is now slightly smeared, and some of it has transferred over to Ortegas’ lips.
“Captain!” She squeaks, her face bright red. “I-I apologize, sir, I didn’t even notice you approach!”
“Yes, I can see that,” Jim replies, clearly amused as he gets out of his chair. He walks over to Ortegas, holding out his hand to her. “Captain James T. Kirk, USS Enterprise.”
“Lieutenant Commander Erica Ortegas, USS Herald,” Ortegas replies as she shakes his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir, Christine’s told me a lot about you.”
“Oh? All good things, I hope.”
Ortegas scrunches up her face and makes a noncommittal noise, earning her a half-hearted swat on the shoulder from Christine and a laugh from Jim.
“Well, I do tend to be her worst patient,” Jim admits.
“No, that would be Leonard,” Christine corrects. “I’ve never seen a man get so huffy over a case of the sniffles.”
“That’s true,” Jim replies. “You’d think a doctor would be better at taking medical advice.”
“And you’d be wrong in most cases, including in Leonard’s,” Christine replies. Spock sees Ortegas’ hand move behind Christine’s body, though he’s not sure where. “Anyway, Captain, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to share a dance with my wife.”
“Your- oh!” The surprise is evident in Jim’s tone, but from what Spock can see of his face he hides it well. “Of course, nurse, I wouldn’t want to keep you. It was lovely to meet you, Lieutenant Commander.”
“You too, Captain.” Ortegas leans over slightly, smiling at Spock. “And how about you and I catch up later, Spock?”
“I would be amenable to that, Lieutenant Commander Ortegas.”
“Spock, seriously, we’ve known each other for over ten years. You can call me Erica.”
Spock allows one corner of his lips to quirk upward.
“Very well, Erica.”
She grins, then begins speaking animatedly with Christine as the two head towards the dance floor.
“Huh,” Jim says after a minute. He turns to Spock, eyebrow raised. “Spock, did you know that Nurse Chapel was married?”
“Yes. I was one of her bride’s men.”
Jim’s eyebrow arches higher as he goes to sit down.
“Bride’s men, Mr. Spock?”
“I was asked to serve on her side of the wedding party, and as I could not, by definition, be a bridesmaid, she declared I was her bride’s man instead.”
“I see. I can’t quite picture you participating in something as… emotionally involved as a Human wedding, you know.”
“I found it quite informative, actually. Even enjoyable at times.”
Spock decides not to mention that the enjoyable aspects mainly revolved around the fact that Christine and Ortegas’ wedding was the last gathering of the bridge crew that had served under Pike prior to his former captain’s injury.
It is too… raw, still, even now.
“Well, I’m glad that you enjoyed- hey!” Jim says as Spock reaches for his PADD, grabbing it and pulling it just out of Spock’s reach. “Ah ah ah, mister, I mean it! No more work for you!”
“Captain, that is my PADD. It was issued to me by Starfleet.”
“Well consider it confiscated until tomorrow. Captain’s orders.”
“I do not believe you have the power to do that.”
“Oh, really? What regulation expressly forbids me from confiscating my First Officer’s PADD when he’s in need of a break?”
Spock frowns.
“None. That is far too specific to be noted in the regulations.”
Jim grins at him.
“Then you’re just going to have to find something else to occupy your time, aren’t you? Maybe you can go find your own dance partner.”
“That would serve little purpose.”
“Not everything needs to be done in service of some grand purpose, Spock. Sometimes you can just… have fun.”
Spock inhales deeply to ground himself.
“Even so, I do not think it would be wise for me to attempt dancing with anyone in this setting, as I have not done so before.”
“Really? Never?”
“There has never been a need for me to do so, so I have not.”
“Huh.” Jim leans back in his chair, a contemplative expression on his face. “I suppose Vulcans aren’t much for dancing, are they?”
“Not typically, though there are some who do.” Spock pauses. “Though T’Pring did propose that we learn together at one point.”
Jim’s eyebrows rise.
“What, really? Why would she suggest that?”
“At the time, she was attempting to make more concessions towards my Humanity in the hopes of strengthening our relationship.”
Jim’s eyes widen, and somewhere in the back of Spock’s mind he notes that they look a bit more green than brown today, perhaps due to the color of his dress uniform.
The color suits him.
“Your… relationship?”
“T’Pring and I were in a romantic and physically intimate relationship up until five point two years ago.”
Jim’s eyes go impossibly wider as his lips part in shock, and Spock arches an eyebrow.
“Is that information truly so surprising to you, Jim?”
“Well, I- I have to admit, it is. Honestly, Spock, I could have sworn you two despised each other.” Jim’s expression turns a bit sheepish. “Although I suppose that could have been because things didn’t end well. Am I right?”
“The termination of our relationship was fairly unpleasant.” Spock resists the urge to sigh. “Though I would be lying if I said I hadn’t expected it.”
Empathy shines in Jim’s eyes, and he smiles gently as he leans in.
“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Spock hesitates, thinking over his words carefully.
“Our paths diverged,” he finally settled on. “My duties to Starfleet and her duties as an administrator and treatment specialist at a Vulcan rehabilitation colony both became more and more demanding, and we saw each other less and less.”
Spock decides to exclude the… incident involving his brother and the pirate Angel- Sybok is a topic he does not wish to get into today.
Possibly ever.
“Ah, that’s the trouble with a long-distance relationship, isn’t it?” Jim comments.
“Indeed. However, I did not realize…”
Jim looks at Spock inquisitively.
“You didn’t realize…?” He prompts.
“I did not realize how much my absence bothered T’Pring.” Spock takes a breath. “At some point, I ceased to miss her presence by my side, though she still desired mine. So when she asked for me to leave Starfleet once my Time came and we were wed, I… I found I did not want to.”
Jim doesn’t respond, but his expression is still one of understanding.
“I did not wish to hurt her. I regret that I still did. But I knew that if I chose her over Starfleet, I would…” Spock swallows against the shame burning in his gut. “I would only end up resenting her for it.”
He tilts his head back slightly.
“I knew that T’Pring deserved more than that.”
“You both deserved more than that, Spock,” Jim replies. “No one deserves to be in a loveless marriage.”
Spock finds that he is unable to respond to that, and instead steadies himself with a quiet breath.
“When we terminated that aspect of our relationship, we made an agreement that we would reconvene and discuss what would occur when my Time came. However, we never spoke again after that.” Spock steeples his hands in his lap to comfort himself. “I suppose neither of us wanted to face the other after we parted ways.”
“And that leads us to yesterday,” Jim muses.
“Yes. While I find much fault with her methods, I cannot fault her logic. There is no purpose in attempting to be with someone who has already rejected you, especially if another shares your desires.”
“Hm. Well, I have to say, I feel a little bad now.”
Spock quirks an eyebrow.
“For what reason?”
“It’s a little embarrassing, but I thought some rather uncharitable things about your ex while we were down on Vulcan.” Jim gives him a wry little smile. “Namely, about why anyone with a lick of sense would choose that big fellow she came around with over you.”
Spock’s heartbeat quickens once again, and he clears his throat.
“Stonn is an accomplished psychiatrist with whom T’Pring works closely.” Spock pauses. “He is… also considered quite handsome by Vulcan standards.”
“Really? More than you?”
Spock pushes down the humiliation in his gut.
“I am considered rather average in terms of attractiveness.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” he hears Jim mumble under his breath. Spock quirks an eyebrow.
“Could you repeat that, Jim?”
Jim startles, then clears his throat as his cheeks redden.
“Ah, er, I just- well, I think there are plenty of folks out there who’d say you’re quite the catch, that’s all.”
Again, Spock’s heartbeat spikes, and he is only barely able to keep his face from flushing.
“Is that so?”
Jim snorts.
“Oh, come on now, Spock, I know you notice all those doe-eyed ensigns hanging on your every word. I’m surprised none of them have taken to writing ‘marry me’ on their eyelids.”
Spock furrows his brow.
“Pardon?”
Jim waves him off.
“Ah, old film reference, don’t worry about it. The point is, Spock, that there are plenty of fish in the sea- plenty of people out there, I mean. You’ll find someone.”
For a moment, Spock thinks to clarify that he is not currently looking for someone, nor does he have any plans to do so in the near future now that his Time is behind him, but the words stick in his throat.
Instead, he looks at Jim, with his golden hair and skin, and he thinks of someone else’s words.
“Find that person who seems farthest from you, and reach for them. Let them guide you.”
Not for the first time, he thinks that Michael would have liked Jim.
He is uncertain as to why that makes happiness bubble up inside him.
“Spock?”
Spock blinks, and realizes that he has gone too long without responding.
“... thank you, Jim,” Spock says, allowing the smallest of smiles to grace his lips.
Jim smiles back, and something odd happens to Spock’s stomach.
Again, he thinks he should speak with M’Benga, just to be safe.
Something behind Spock’s head catches Jim’s eye, and he sighs.
“Sorry, Spock, but I’m afraid duty calls.”
Spock frowns, turning in his seat to see a Rigelian woman walking towards them.
“Duty, sir?”
“I promised the Rigelian Ambassador a dance. You know, diplomacy through charm, and all that.”
Something angry and jealous spikes in Spock, and he hastily buries it.
“I see. If it pleases you, then, Captain, I think I’d like my PADD back, as I’ll be taking my leave once I speak with Lieutenant Commander Ortegas.”
Jim smirks at him.
“Not much one for parties, are you, Mr. Spock?”
Spock can only nod as Jim becomes the fourth person to make that observation.
“No, sir.”
“Hmm…” Jim grins, then taps at Spock’s PADD a few times before giving it back to him. “Alright, here you are.”
“Thank you,” Spock replies. He taps on the screen, only to find that it is locked behind a countdown timer. “Captain?”
“Sorry, Spock, no work for you til Alpha tomorrow,” Jim says cheerfully as he gets out of his seat. He pats Spock on the shoulder, and for some reason that sends a thrill down Spock’s arm. “Go relax, would you?”
“Jim, you are aware that I will have full access to my work through the computer in my quarters, are you not?”
“Perfectly aware, but I’m trusting you not to do that.” Jim smirks. “Unless I need to make it an order?”
Spock resists the urge to roll his eyes.
“No, sir.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Jim pauses just as he starts to walk away. “Oh, and Spock?”
“Yes?”
Jim smiles, and Spock’s heart beats just a bit faster.
“Sweet dreams.”
He walks away before Spock can respond, leaving him with his lips parted and his heart ramming in his side.
He swallows, then takes a deep breath as Christine and Ortegas once again approach the table.
Perhaps he will first rest, as the captain has suggested, then see M’Benga if…
If this feeling does not subside.
Spock is being kissed.
It takes a moment for him to fully process this- T’Pring rarely engaged in Human kisses, and since then he has only been kissed by one other person while under the influence of the spores from Omicron Ceti III. He had enjoyed the kisses with T’Pring, grateful for that concession she made to his Humanity, and while he had enjoyed being kissed by Leila Kalomi at the time, once he was free of the spores’ influence he had found the entire event… unnerving.
This, though, is… different. The lips against his are soft, but warm- Human, most likely. There is a slight prickly sensation against his cheeks and chin, one that is unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and the body on top of his is solid, pressing him into sheets that are not his own. Something wet presses at Spock’s lips, and when he parts them he realizes it’s a tongue, hot and sliding against his own in a way that makes Spock’s head spin. The hands on his hips- no, now those warm hands have slipped under his regulation black undershirt and he can feel the calloused fingers on his skin, slowly moving higher and higher until a thumb brushes his nipple.
Spock breaks the kiss as a gasp tumbles past his lips unbidden, hips arching up against the body above him. Heat floods his face as he snaps back to reality, even as his blood rushes southward into his erectile tissue.
He finds it very difficult to control that reaction.
What is more, he finds he does not want to.
“I apologize-!” Spock starts, not fully certain of what he is apologizing for, only to find himself cut off by a soft laugh.
“Why, Mr. Spock, I never realized Vulcan nipples were so sensitive.”
Jim.
Jim is the one on top of him, a smirk playing on his lips. His pupils are dilated, nearly hiding his hazel irises, and his cheeks are flushed a pale pink, as if he had been exercising recently.
He is also not wearing a shirt. Spock’s heart begins pounding in his side at this realization, which is odd- he has seen the captain shirtless countless times before, given his tendency to lose clothing on away missions.
But this is different. Here, he can feel the warmth radiating off of Jim’s body, can see the beads of sweat forming on his brow and the almost imperceptible dusting of freckles across his nose from his time in the Vulcan sun.
Pure lust rolls through Spock at the sight, and he-
He wants-
“Not Vulcans, Jim.”
He suddenly wants to hear Jim laugh more than anything, needs to hear it.
And, as he expected, Jim does, ducking his head a bit.
“Oh, so it’s just you, then? Well, aren’t I lucky?”
Spock begins to form a reply, but then Jim kisses him again, and the words evaporate on his tongue. He cannot help but sigh, relaxing against the pillow. On a whim, he wraps his arms around Jim’s neck, tangling one of his hands into the hair at the back of Jim’s head and placing the other on his shoulder. The sudden rush of happylustamusedwantwantwant makes Spock gasp and break the kiss.
“Something the matter?” Jim asks. His voice is slightly rough, lips just a bit swollen from kissing, and Spock feels himself harden even further.
“I… Vulcans are touch telepaths.”
Jim blinks, then raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“When I touched your- your skin, I… I felt…”
Jim blinks again, then reddens slightly, chuckling before leaning in and kissing Spock almost chastely.
“Well, I should hope you’ve figured out by now how much I’m enjoying this.” He shifts slightly, and suddenly one of his thighs is lightly pressing against Spock’s groin. Spock is helpless to stop the moan that escapes his throat, rolling his hips against Jim’s thigh on instinct. “I’ve certainly got a pretty good idea of how much you like what we’re doing.”
There is a part of Spock that knows he should be ashamed of how quickly his controls have failed- they are not even fully unclothed yet- but his brain has been overrun by his own quickly mounting arousal.
“Jim…” Spock says quietly, not even sure what he is trying to communicate. Jim simply smiles, ducking down and pressing his lips to Spock’s throat. The bristly sensation- Jim’s stubble, Spock now realizes- brushes against the skin there, and for some reason that makes another wave of lust roll through his body. “I… Jim-!”
Jim’s thigh presses right against Spock’s still-clothed erection, and Spock arches up against him.
“Ja-ames,” he moans, earning a soft chuckle from Jim.
“Something you want, sweetheart? Gonna have to tell me, then, I’m afraid the only telepath here is you.”
Spock looks up at the gorgeous, golden man above him, the knowledge that this beautiful specimen desires him filling him with a sudden boldness. His hands trail down Jim’s back until they reach their destination, squeezing his firm buttocks with each palm. Jim lets out a yelp in surprise, then gives him an absolutely filthy grin.
“I want-!”
And then Spock wakes up.
He blinks, staring up at the ceiling of his quarters for approximately thirty seconds as his senses return to him.
He is in his own bed.
He is alone.
His face is damp with perspiration.
His heart is beating twenty-seven beats per minute above his typical resting heart rate.
He has managed to shift enough in his sleep that his blanket has pooled around his hips, his sheets tangling between his legs.
Finally, he is aroused- approximately fifty-three point six of the way to achieving a full erection. Not enough for his penis to begin lubricating itself, but noticeable to anyone who might look.
Spock blinks again.
“What.”
For the next two minutes, that is the most coherent thought Spock has. Confusion, embarrassment, and discomfort all swirl around in his brain, a throughline of sheer arousal thrumming behind it all.
When he finally is able to think clearly again, he thinks of two words.
Pon farr.
His heart plummets, and he sits up in bed, trying to control his own rising panic.
“Lights at thirty percent.”
The world brightens a bit as Spock gets out of bed; though his erection has mostly subsided, it is still a bit uncomfortable to walk over to the bathroom. By the time he has fixed his hair and wiped away the sweat, he is entirely flaccid, though some discomfort remains.
“Computer, what is the current time?” Spock inquires as he begins dressing.
“The current time is zero-five-one-nine.”
Spock pauses, then puts on a uniform shirt- he is uncertain how long M’Benga’s tests will take, but if he is able to return to duty it would be logical to be ready when Alpha starts.
Assuming that this is not pon farr, of course, which it very well still could be.
Despite himself, he hopes against hope that it is not, that these feelings- those images of Jim with no shirt on, smiling at him and calling him sweetheart-!
To his horror, Spock’s penis twitches in his regulation trousers, blood flowing towards his erectile tissue once more.
He forces the arousal away with a slight grimace, then makes for the nearest lift.
Hopefully, M’Benga will be able to resolve this with little issue.