Chapter Text
Lieutenant Commander Spock stood at parade rest at the edge of the busy docking area, calmly awaiting his opportunity to bid farewell to his captain of six and three quarter's months. All around him, other officers and crewmen of the USS Farragut chattered and laughed, some of them hugging or vigorously shaking hands as they prepared to part ways and continue on to whatever awaited them upon their return to Earth.
"Hey, Spock! You headed home to Vulcan for a visit?" his fellow shipmate Lieutenant Lo asked. Lo hefted a duffel bag full of his belongings over his shoulder and mustered up a weary smile.
"Negative," Spock told him, keeping his own expression suitably blank. "I have accepted a teaching position at Starfleet Academy for the next academic year, with an option to renew the appointment should my performance prove sufficient."
The lieutenant whistled with what Spock understood to signify admiration and envy. "That's great. I'm sure they'll try to keep hold of you for as long as they can. Me, I've got four weeks with the wife and kids before I head out into the black again."
"I see. I had thought your leave was scheduled for two weeks only." Spock had gone over the leave grants himself twenty-eight days ago; typically, such plans did not change after their initial approval.
Lo paused, a startled look flickering over his face before he again assumed his normally cheerful expression. "Well, when they offered the leave extension after our last mission, I wasn't going to say no." There was a pause, and Lo cleared his throat. "Sorry you can't take it yourself. You probably have to report at the start of classes no matter what happens. Seems kind of unfair, especially considering --"
"Even without the constraints of the Academy's calendar," Spock interrupted him, "I would have been unlikely to avail myself of such an opportunity."
Lo nodded slowly. There should have been no surprise on his face, Spock reflected; he and every other crewman aboard the Farragut were by now well acquainted with Spock's disinclination to spend over much time on leisure pursuits.
"Well. See you around, then," Lo offered. He hurried away before Spock could offer a farewell of his own.
"Mister Spock," Captain Coutinho called amiably, waving Spock to his side. A pair of ensigns crossed the room after having taken their own leave of the captain, nodding at Spock as they passed.
"I thank you once more for the opportunity to serve under you, sir," Spock said immediately when he reached Coutinho.
"As I said to you last night, you've done a fine job, and I've no doubt you'll excel in instructing our latest crop of cadets." Coutinho looked as though he would very much like to grasp Spock encouragingly on the shoulder, as he often did when praising those he commanded.
Spock raised his hand in the ta'al as a way to convey his own well-wishes, bowing his head slightly when Coutinho mirrored the gesture as best he could.
"I hope you'll keep in touch, Spock."
"I will of course communicate with you when appropriate to update you on matters concerning my career."
The captain smiled, though he seemed distracted. "If you ever want to talk, about whatever challenges you're facing...or, say, any of the missions, like the one we just concluded on Cataclys..."
Spock tilted his head to the side. "I have of course submitted all of the necessary reports detailing my reactions to you already."
"That you have." Coutinho exhaled. He seemed about to speak again, but his yeoman appeared at his elbow, holding out a PADD for him to sign. "Duty calls," he said with a last smile before shifting his focus to his task.
"Of course." Spock turned immediately and made his way to the turbo lift. He was certainly not avoiding any further conversation with his captain or any other officers and crewmen, he told himself. He had merely decided to move on because it was an appropriate time to depart.
The lift door slid shut on him, the lone passenger, turning all the noise of the leave-taking on the shuttle deck to silence.
************
Though Spock had several days to "move in" to his assigned faculty apartment, within an hour of his arrival to the unit he had easily settled his few possessions in the already-furnished space.
He stood at the windows in his bedroom, taking in the activity on the street below and considering how he might pass what remained of the evening. Though meditation would be appropriate later, at the present moment he felt too restless to devote his attention to the practice. Additionally, most Starfleet facilities would be closed at this time, making the late evening hour not conducive to study or research.
In any case, he judged the energy he could feel pent up inside him would be best expended in a physical fashion. Were he still aboard the Farragut, he might have sought out a partner for sparring in the ship's gym, one of his few outlets for excess corporeal drive during space travel. Now that he was on Earth, however, other even more desirable diversions were once again available.
He glanced back at the tautly-made bed, considering.
Deeming himself surely acclimated enough to his new living space for the moment, he quickly fetched his communicator so that he might arrange conveyance to a dance club found some distance from the campus. The venue would likely prove most advantageous for his purposes of locating and engaging an appealing partner for sexual congress; the location, situated far from the Academy, would make certain very few of his prospects would be members of Starfleet.
Spock felt the low thrum of sensual need he had kept at bay these past months increase until it became a steady beat along his nerves and in his veins urging him on.
His somewhat brief assignment on the USS Farragut had not allowed for extended shore leave, and had thus interfered with Spock's chances to meet suitable partners with whom he might engage in coitus. In a few days, the fall semester would begin, and the flurry of meetings and extra duties associated with the start of the term would leave him little time for socializing, particularly given his status as a new instructor. Indeed, there were many logical reasons to utilize this night to find a companion for the mutual pursuit of physical release.
As he carefully set aside his uniform, Spock considered his few civilian clothing options before he pulled on a pair of black trousers that fitted his legs closely. Moments later he chose a dark grey tunic that adhered to his torso.
Receiving confirmation via his communicator that his transport had arrived outside, Spock irrationally took one last look at himself in the full-length mirror installed in the room. The black boots he had selected added a slight elevation to his height, which many of his potential partners seemed to find most alluring.
For a moment he held his own gaze in the reflection, observing the anticipation but also the steadiness in his eyes before leaving the building.
************
"Wait, wait, wait -- you actually just go right ahead and fuck people?" Spock's first-year roommate at the Academy had asked in amazement during their initial conversation on the topic. "But you don't like to be touched! So how does that --" and here he waved his arms about wildly, "work?"
"Vulcans do not welcome illogical or unnecessary bodily contact," Spock corrected him. "The understandable and expected addressing of physical urges is, by contrast, logical and necessary. It follows clearly that touching a partner during sexual interaction is not only appropriate but highly rational."
"Isn't it weird if you can read their minds, though?" Cadet Martin asked, his voice breaking.
Spock regarded his roommate with barely disguised impatience, not for the first time privately ruing Martin's required enrollment in Introduction to Xenocultural Norms and Customs. Though they were still at the start of their first term at Starfleet, Martin seemed to consider Spock a test subject of sorts. He continually posed questions about this or that Vulcan practice he encountered in his readings and lectures. No session of Martin's examinations on the matter was as irksome as discussing the subject of Spock's sexual experience, however.
"Assuming that the Vulcan in question has appropriate mental shields in place, as would of course be sound," Spock began, "no transgression of the mind -- such as detecting their partner's thoughts without express permission -- will take place."
"Oh." And with that one word, Martin managed to sound both appeased and slightly disappointed.
Had Cadet Martin's questions stemmed only from his theoretical studies of Vulcans that might have been the end of the matter. It had been somewhat unfortunate then that Martin was present at an informal campus event when Spock obtained the attentions of one of the most desirable guests and left with her. The resulting assignation had been most satisfactory. Dealing with Martin's resulting questions, however, was not.
"So you think it's fine if, you know --" Martin said the next time Spock returned from a tryst. Spock suppressed a sigh upon viewing Martin awaiting him at his computer, much as if he had positioned himself there precisely to speak to Spock upon his reentry.
"Elaborate," Spock said at last when no further clarification seemed forthcoming.
Martin glanced at him and quickly looked away, his cheeks heating. "So I get that you're okay with touching people for, uh, sexy purposes. But I still don't get how it's cool if you hook up with random prospects. I mean, I thought Vulcans were all with the lifetime bonding."
"Indeed, Vulcans hold bonds as sacred." Spock started to strip efficiently in preparation for a shower.
His roommate's gaze flickered over him again, most likely trained upon the evidence of small bruises and bites on Spock's person, which from his widened eyes he apparently found somewhat scandalous. Spock, who considered such marks typical indications of enthusiastic sexual congress, merely finished undressing.
"But doesn't that mean you can't --" and here Spock's roommate looked up at the ceiling and thrust his fist in the air several times in an unsophisticated signal of intercourse. "With just anyone?"
"Why would that mean such a thing?" Spock asked curiously. He slipped into the robe he wore for proceeding from their room to the showers as he spoke. "Is it not rational to find outlets for the expenditure of sexual energies? Is it not healthy for all species to seek partners for mutual relief of and pursuit of sensual pleasures?"
"I guess?" Martin replied, his voice rising dubiously. He seemed both disinclined and yet avid to regard Spock now, in turn looking away with flushed cheeks and then blatantly staring, presumably at what he could glimpse of Spock's bare chest.
Spock ignored Martin's attentions and gathered the uniform he would need to change into after his shower. "Certainly after a Vulcan is bonded, their mate provides partnership on all levels," he answered his roommate. "But until then, seeking sexual activities with any variety of partners is appropriate and even logical expenditure of erotic drive that would otherwise inhibit calm and ordered minds."
"Wow," Martin had said, shaking his head as if in wonder. "Wow."
"Indeed," Spock replied for lack of a better response, and departed.
************
There had been occasions during Spock's youth when he felt embarrassment surrounding the topic of sexual joining. His discomfort, however, had been due to a misapprehension that other Vulcans would find him an unworthy object of desire. After all, at issue was his status as not only a near-friendless individual, but indeed his widely known and disparaged origin as the product of a Vulcan and Human union.
How wrong Spock had been! As he attained his full-grown height and gained the toned physique of an adult Vulcan, Spock's peers began to find him an exciting and exotic specimen. There was no lack of candidates for sexual exploration when he looked for them. Indeed, he found partners even amid those who had previously deemed him a target for bullying.
He realized the full extent of his error in judgment about his own appeal when his former childhood nemesis Stonn approached him.
They encountered one another at a museum in Shi'Kahr, both navigating an extensive exhibit devoted to the evolution of the Vulcan Lute. Upon recognizing Stonn, Spock gave a slight nod and prepared to approach the exhibit from the opposite direction. However, Stonn diverted his path to follow Spock's.
"You play," Stonn remarked curtly when he joined Spock in regarding an early pre-Reformation example of the lute.
"Affirmative." Spock continued to study the explanatory placard next to the instrument, though it contained information he already had committed to memory. Though Spock anticipated Stonn's departure at any moment, the other man did not leave Spock's side.
"I would not be averse to hearing you perform," Stonn at last continued gruffly. "With no one else present," he clarified.
At this, Spock turned to stare at his former foe. Such an invitation to play privately, even unappealingly worded as it was, was irrefutably sexual in nature. Though he had particularly disliked Stonn when they were children, Spock could not dispute Stonn's masculine appeal. His sturdy frame was muscular, and his slightly aggressive manner suggested a banked passion that Spock found compelling.
Additionally, Spock could admit to himself this opportunity to "get his own back" (to employ the odd idiom that his mother had occasionally reiterated) had a peculiar but undeniable appeal.
"I would consider playing for you," Spock said evenly as their eyes met in the reflection of the glass display case.
Stonn's sharp intake of breath and slight olive flush at his cheekbones had sealed the decision.
So he had indeed taken Stonn to his bed, along with a variety of others who caught his eye. They would approach Spock at traditional gatherings like organized tournaments of kal-toh players, or intellectual opportunities like talks at the Vulcan Science Academy. He soon learned to observe the small twitches of their fingertips or their increased rates of blinking, signaling to him that a physical encounter would be considered most welcome.
By the time Spock refused the VSA's offer and instead accepted the invitation to attend Starfleet Academy, he had a few regular partners. All of them expressed regret in their stoic fashions that they would lose access to him and his sexual skills.
Stonn in particular had viewed Spock's approaching departure as an inconvenience. He even spoke of pursuing various opportunities on Earth, all of them near Spock. In the end, Spock had to explain bluntly that while he found it satisfying to observe Stonn reduced to uttering irrational phrases during their bouts of erotic entanglement, he had no intention of considering Stonn an acceptable long-term romantic partner or a potential mate.
Later, Spock would realize that "breaking up," as Earthers termed it, could prove just as irksome with a Vulcan as with a human. Stonn's formal presentation of logical points as to why he and Spock should continue their association had been quite lengthy and most tiresome.
************
As for humans, once he relocated to Earth Spock soon judged his appeal to prospective partners had increased by as much as twenty-six percent. Whether it was the unusual shape of his ears (by Terran standards, of course), the green tint of his skin (oddly thought exotic on other planets) or his unemotional demeanor (which apparently lent an enthralling mysterious air to his person), he could not say definitively.
He could, however, bring Cadet Martin's series of questions regarding Spock's sexual proclivities to an end. At the next awkward session, Spock explained, "Though I am open to further abstract consideration of the topic, I should clarify that I have no interest in sexual intercourse with you, Martin."
"Oh, right, yeah. Not like I would -- even that -- I mean --" Martin blustered. His ears turned scarlet, and he quickly swiveled back to his computer. The subject did not arise between them again.
Though Cadet Martin did not tempt Spock's attentions, others certainly did. During his time as a student in San Francisco Spock even conducted several relationships, though none lasted longer than four months. It seemed inadvisable to continue past that point, as soon after humans apparently began to raise topics like cohabitation, the introduction of various family members, or the mutual procurement of domestic animals.
Ultimately, Spock judged even temporary relationships with other Starfleet members a distraction, too time-consuming. After all, he would bond eventually. Entering into a lengthy association with someone who might eventually entertain ideas of commitment Spock did not intend to fulfill seemed imprudent. And sharing a campus -- or a starship -- with such individuals invariably became awkward. Though he did not waver in his decisions, he admitted he found some of the emotional responses...unpleasant.
Additionally, now that Spock had achieved the post of instructor, he added a logical extension to his earlier policy. Though there was no specific protocol requiring him to do so, he would avoid any emotional and sexual entanglements with cadets at the Academy.
************
Fortunately for Spock's future erotic prospects, there were such venues as the one he was now on his way to, well out of the way of the normal sphere of socializing for Starfleet's students, officers, and enlisted personnel. He would keep his academic and sexual spheres completely separate, and find greater peace of mind for it.
Just as Spock had thought, when he had paid the driver of the vehicle upon arrival and was quickly waved in to enter the club, he did not recognize any of the patrons from Starfleet.
He was pleased to note there were a variety of appealing denizens of the establishment tonight. Indeed, there were so many attractive people that Spock was at first content merely to survey the inhabitants as he sipped his mineral water drink.
He had chosen to linger in the largest room, designated primarily for dancing, and situated himself at the smaller and more shadowed of its two bars. Though he knew from past experiences that a more visible position would garner him approaches and offers almost immediately, he wished to take his time and choose someone himself. After all, he only had a few nights remaining to him before he would be absorbed by his teaching work. It would be most rational to pursue a very memorable encounter with a highly pleasing individual rather than merely satiate his desires with the first interested party.
He scanned the crowd, assessing candidates. The occupants of the room were almost to a one male, as befit his inclinations for the evening. As he finished his beverage and signaled for another, he ruled out several men: some due to their flirtation with and proximity to someone else; others because of his lack of interest in their physical attributes; and several because of their obviously advanced state of inebriation that would render their consent to any sexual acts invalid.
At one point Spock spotted a highly attractive male, dark-skinned and quite slim, who was laughing with a group of friends at the other bar. The individual seemed focused on his companions but would peer at the crowd with unmistakable interest every so often, indicating his readiness to locate a partner.
When Spock raised his glass to his lips to take another drink, his eyes fixed on the handsome specimen, the man noticed him. He smiled in a very charming manner, seeming somewhat abashed at being caught staring but also obviously pleased at Spock's interest.
Spock lowered his glass to the bar top and held the man's gaze, wordlessly declaring his intent. Intriguingly, his potential partner ducked his head slightly and grinned. Seeing no reason to delay any longer with such a promising candidate available and inclined, Spock took a step forward.
Before he could make his way any further, however, Spock sputtered as he found the contents of someone else's beverage clumsily spilled on his face and garments.
"Jesus fuck, I am so, so sorry," the holder of two now-empty glasses apologized immediately. His own wrists and hands were dripping with the same liquid he had splashed on Spock. Yet the expression on his face indicated he might be more inclined to laugh aloud at their mutual predicament rather than look appropriately chagrined for his responsibility in causing it.
"I didn't see you there, and it's so freaking dark on this side of the club," the stranger explained, his brows furrowed as he saw the extent of the damage to Spock's garments. He discarded the wet glasses atop the bar counter. When he turned back to Spock a small insouciant grin finally escaped. "I really hope you like pomegranates, because you're going to smell like one for the rest of the night."
"Though I have no objection to that particular Terran fruit, I also did not intend to wear its scent for the remainder of the evening," Spock said stiffly. He took the heap of paper napkins his unwitting assailant thrust at him, waving away the man's efforts to help with the task of drying his apparel.
As soon as his clothing was sufficiently blotted, Spock glanced back, taking in the appearance of his unwelcome conversational partner more fully.
Perhaps he was not so unwelcome as all that, Spock allowed. His eyes dropped to make observation of well-worn fitted denim trousers, the tight t-shirt outlining a most becoming abdominal area, and the stretch of fabric across his broad shoulders. In addition, the man had arresting blue eyes, attractive dark blond hair styled to appear as if it had been recently mussed from a sensual encounter, and an agile looking tongue that flicked out to wet his lips nervously. Even over the cloying scent of pomegranate, Spock could register the inviting scent of this recent arrival -- a blend of simple soap, clean smelling sweat, and an underlying hint of musk.
While Spock watched, he witnessed his new acquaintance experience a vasodilation that turned his cheeks an inviting shade of pink. Additionally, the expansion of his pupils increased substantially, making the unusual blue color of his eyes even more striking.
As if discerning Spock's increased concentration on him, he leaned into Spock's personal space even more than he had done earlier, when he had awkwardly attempted to pat away the worst of the moisture clinging to Spock's clothing.
"I believe you will need to replace the drinks you were procuring for yourself and your companion," Spock said at once. If the attempt to persuade this man to join him in an assignation would be a fruitless endeavor due to a prior arrangement with another party, he wished to know as soon as possible.
"What?" the man asked dazedly, his eyes on Spock's mouth. "Oh, those," he added quickly, obviously having come back to his senses enough to remember the task that had set him in Spock's path. "Yeah, those were actually both for me. I mean, I'm not here with anyone." He flashed a wide smile at Spock, not at all disarmed at finding Spock scrutinizing him. "Kind of a liquid courage thing, you know?"
"I do not think you are in need of such an aid," Spock observed. "You seem to have an inordinate amount of confidence already."
The man gave a surprised laugh before his expression changed to a spirited grin and beguilingly lowered eyelashes. "Well, yes and no," he allowed. When Spock prepared to ask him to clarify his contradictory statement, he glanced over Spock's shoulder. His blue eyes widened slightly. "Whoops? Looks like maybe I got in the middle of something."
Spock turned to view the attractive dark-skinned man he had almost approached looking disappointed. Spock gave him a civil nod, and his earlier prospect shrugged in resignation, smiling slightly as if to communicate that there would be no injured feelings.
"Or maybe not," the man at Spock's side said, a slight edge of displeasure to his voice. "Listen, if you want to get over to your friend --"
"I am content where I am," Spock answered simply, making certain to offer his full attention once again.
The young man -- for he was younger than Spock, surely, though he seemed respectably of age -- gave Spock another quick cocky curve of his lips, that former confidence returning in full.
"Would you be content somewhere else, as long as I'm there too?" the man asked, his voice mischievous.
"What sort of relocation did you imagine we might undertake?" Spock asked.
"Well, there's always the dance floor." At this the young man's gaze swept up and down Spock's body in blatant approval. "I don't know how much you like dancing, but I wouldn't mind moving in a little closer to you."
"I find dancing a worthwhile diversion. But I believe that now I would be more interested in a shift to a place where I can take off your clothing and taste your skin," Spock answered calmly.
The man's lips parted in surprise, and Spock took a moment to enjoy his partner's tempting mouth. After a moment he laughed again. "Wow, you do not waste time. I knew I was going to like you as soon as I poured those drinks all over your shirt."
"Illogical." Such instinctual reactions of affinity for another individual, particularly in the case of a situation likely to generate conflict, seemed to him highly questionable.
"If you want logic, I don't know if I'm your guy," the man joked. His words were pronounced with the ease of one who was used to companions assuring him he was in fact a highly desirable choice. But they also hinted he was the sort of individual who in fact required such assurances on occasion.
"What I want from you has little to do with logic," Spock admitted. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. Its tenor apparently pleased his intended company for the evening, he noted with interest. This time the pleasant pink flush on his cheeks spread in an enticing sweep of color across his collarbone. Gazing at him, Spock felt the growing urge to map its extent with his fingertips and tongue.
"Okay, then it looks like I am your guy," the man replied at once, his low tones matching Spock's more intimate pitch of volume. "I'm definitely up for the pursuit of illogical activities." The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Spock tilted his head to the side, considering. "I do not know if I can wait for the duration of time it would take to transport the both of us to an alternate location."
The man grinned at him, clearly pleased at Spock's expression of limited patience. "Well, come on then. If you don't mind something a little spur of the moment, I bet we can figure something out."
"Lead on," Spock replied. He did not know whether this newfound acquaintance actually possessed knowledge of the building's layout and possible places for a rendezvous. But it was quite agreeable to observe his companion depart first, providing Spock with a clear view of his aesthetically superior backside.