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Vulcans did not lie.
They omitted, they exaggerated, they implied, they obfuscated, but they definitely, absolutely, did not lie.
Jim Kirk chose to believe that, more or less. But he made an exception for anything Spock ever said about his emotions.
“Emotions are alien to me.”
“One of your Earth emotions.”
“I have no ego to bruise.”
“Merely my quite logical relief that Starfleet had not lost a highly proficient captain.”
These, Jim didn’t believe. But he pretended to, because it was just good manners. Humans lied about their farts, Vulcans lied about their feelings, and it seemed the etiquette was to play along.
And Spock clearly appreciated the consideration. A trace of a smile, a satisfied glance before looking away. He’d fight to the end with Bones about whether he’d accidentally let slip a feeling, but with Jim he simply...relaxed. After Jim had caught him very obviously in an emotion or two—when they’d had the polywater virus, or in pon farr—and Jim had still stubbornly refused to acknowledge what had happened, Spock seemed to recognize that there was no need to hide his emotions anymore. They flickered, quick and subtle as dragonflies, across his face, and then both of them pretended it hadn’t happened.
But this was one thing that had to be said out loud with real words. Jim was torn up with the risk of it, the potential disrespect. How do you say, “I have feelings for you, and I think you have feelings for me too,” without implying your lover has any feelings? Surely Vulcans managed to get married somehow; Spock’s parents had.
They were sitting over chess, as ever, and Spock was beginning to notice Jim’s distraction. He raised an eyebrow. “Jim, having touched that knight, it is incumbent on you to move it.”
“Sorry,” said Jim, but put it down in the same spot. “I’m—a little distracted.”
Both eyebrows up. “That much is obvious.”
“I’m going to—annoy you with human illogic for a minute, is that all right?”
“I do not expect you to be a Vulcan.”
“All right.” Jim shifted in his chair. “I’m having some—very emotional feelings about you. Have for a while, if I’m honest. And perhaps, some physical responses too.”
A flicker of—something. “Are these emotions and responses positive or negative?”
“Oh, positive, definitely.”
“And yet you are uncomfortable.”
“Well, yes! They’re,” he cleared his throat, “of a romantic and sexual nature, and that struck me as the kind of thing that might make you uncomfortable.”
“Discomfort is a human emotion,” Spock lied.
“If you were human, I’d ask to, uh, start a romantic relationship. But that might be too emotional for your taste.”
“Pair-bondings do not have to be emotional in nature,” said Spock placidly.
“I figured not, since Vulcans do them. But would you —”
Spock rescued him. “I can imagine no more logical choice of partner for me than yourself.”
Jim smiled. “I don’t know about that. I feel like, on logical grounds, you could do better.”
“I could not,” Spock countered immediately. “You are an adept captain, a man of probity and excellence, and our temperaments are highly compatible. Our career paths make it possible for us to share companionship in a way that has been impossible with past partners either of us have attempted. Furthermore you are more…understanding…of my particular nature and needs than any Vulcan or human has been in the past.”
Face warming, Jim looked down. Spock admired him more than he deserved, he sometimes thought. “So not a shred of emotion in there?”
“Emotions are subject to change,” said Spock. “My evidence-based opinion of you is not.”
Jim smiled. “So that’s a yes?”
“It is a yes, Jim.”
Jim blinked, more at sea than ever. He hadn’t quite gotten so far as to imagine how Spock might react if the answer was yes. Sweep Jim up in his arms? Instead he was sitting still, staring at the knight Jim hadn’t moved.
“So, uh—how do we do this?” Jim ventured.
“I am willing for you to take the lead, Jim. As a human you likely expect a human-style relationship, and I am amenable.”
Jim took a steadying breath. He had expected more enthusiasm, but it was a yes, and of course Spock wouldn’t want to admit that he wanted anything, wanting things was too human. “Can I…kiss you, Spock?”
“Affirmative,” said Spock, meeting his eyes, and finally Jim thought he could see something there. If only the sharp spark of curiosity.
Jim stood up, came around the table, and bent down to Spock’s lips. Spock tilted his face up obligingly, and Jim trailed the fingers of one hand along his jawbone before pressing their lips gently together.
Spock’s lips were slightly cool and soft; they melted at a touch. Jim’s heart raced, his stomach plummeted, and heat pooled in his loins. God. One kiss. That was all it took to completely devastate him, if it was Spock. He’d been longing for this for so long. Pulling back slightly, he opened his eyes.
Spock was looking back at him, completely unruffled.
Jim looked down, embarrassed. “Was that—all right?”
“It was most interesting, Jim.”
Jim straightened up and started to move away. Spock loved him—that, at least, had been understood. If he didn’t want to kiss, it was all right.
Spock’s hand snapped out and caught Jim by the wrist. “You do not need to stop. I said I found it interesting. Perhaps I should have instead said fascinating?”
“You liked it?” asked Jim hopefully.
That was a bridge too far. Spock’s face shut down a little bit. “Vulcans do not arrange their choices to suit their preferences. But I do think the pursuit of knowledge is a worthy goal. Surak once said, ‘Wide experience increases wisdom, provided the experience is not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation.’”
Jim smiled fondly down at Spock. Taking both his hands, he pulled him to his feet. “So what you’re saying is, it’s logical that we keep kissing for a while.”
“Indeed.”
The stimulation of sensation seemed to Jim a key part of the whole thing. But Jim got the sense that maybe Spock was willing to tolerate a little stimulation of sensation if it was wrapped inside a pill pocket of scientific research.
He tipped his chin up and slid a hand around the back of Spock’s neck, guiding him down. Spock’s lips met his, more enthusiastically this time (though he surely would not have admitted it). They exchanged soft kisses, and then Jim boldly licked Spock’s bottom lip. Spock made no sound, but his lips parted, admitting Jim’s tongue.
Jim couldn’t help it. He moaned, pressing closer against Spock, licking into his mouth. Spock’s hands remained chastely on his upper back, but he responded to the kiss, brushing his tongue against Jim’s. Jim didn’t think it was a good time to grind up against him, but he badly wanted to.
He had hoped that it would turn Spock on, but it was clear that wasn't happening. There was no hunger in his touch, no movement to take the initiative. The front of his slacks was perfectly flat.
After a while of this, Jim was so achingly hard, he didn’t think he could resist taking this further than he meant to. He broke away, panting. “So,” he managed, “that’s, uh, some data points for you.”
“Indeed.” Spock’s lips were shining but his face gave nothing away.
“I assume you probably don’t get a whole lot out of this, outside pon farr.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “What should I be ‘getting out of it’?”
Jim stepped back a little, clearing his throat. “It’s fine. I don’t want to take things further than you’re comf—than you want to.”
“You are aroused,” Spock pointed out.
Jim’s face heated. “Sure. That’s what I meant—kissing really turns me on, all the time, whereas I’ve always figured for Vulcans it’s more of an every-seven-years thing.”
Spock’s eyebrows furrowed. “It is true that the sexual response is somewhat—lessened at other times. But I did not mean to imply that I could not have a sexual relationship with you.”
“I don’t know what impression you have of me, what I’m like in a relationship, but I can be respectful,” Jim objected, slightly offended. “I don’t have to have sex.”
Spock blinked. He had the look on his face that he got when he was losing at chess, but definitely wasn’t experiencing a human emotion like frustration. “I know that you can, Jim,” he said. “You are a disciplined and self-controlled individual. But I would like this relationship to be satisfying for you. And I confess myself…curious.”
“Curious,” repeated Jim.
Spock’s eyes dipped again, glancing at Jim’s tented pants. “I am curious about human sexual function. It seems we could alleviate my curiosity and your sexual arousal at the same time.”
Jim licked his lips. He wanted to be desired by Spock, and he’d hoped somehow to be pounced on, by him, but was it so bad to be— inspected by Spock? Dispassionately observed by Spock? “You want me to jerk off in front of you?” he asked.
Spock searched Jim’s face. “Yes,” he said after a minute. “It seems a logical activity.” He sat back down in his chair, turning it to face Jim. “If you are willing.”
Jim fiddled with the magnetic closing on his pants, feeling incredibly self conscious. He’d jerked off in front of people before, but usually they were doing it too. Still, the thought of showing his erection to Spock—showing Spock what he was doing to him—was enough to override his embarrassment. Swallowing, he opened his fly, pushed down the waistband of his briefs, and took out his cock.
Glancing down at Spock, he saw those brown eyes were riveted. All right. That was okay then.
He fell back on science to help him out. “It’s all pretty simple,” he said. “Shaft, foreskin, head. Jewish humans are typically circumcised, but these days it’s just a nick. Under the foreskin is very sensitive.” He slipped his thumb over the head, breathing raggedly. “But the majority of the motion is just this. Up and down.”
“I see,” said Spock. He was just above eye level with Jim’s crotch, and whatever it was making him feel, it was certainly taking up all his attention. “Human testicles are external. Are they involved at all?”
“They don’t have to be.” Jim reached down with his other hand, fondled them a little. “But it does feel good.”
“In that case it is reasonable to proceed,” said Spock. “Since orgasm is the goal.”
Jim stroked himself languidly. He was beginning to relax. They were friends, had been for years, they had just been kissing. This was normal. “I’m not generally that goal-oriented about it,” he said, arousal making his voice a little husky. “Of course I want to come, but I don’t like to come too fast. I like to enjoy the process.”
“And that is typical of humans?”
“Generally, yes. Especially with a partner. When we’re alone sometimes it’s just about getting to a release quickly, to move on with our life.”
“But you are with a partner presently.”
“Yeah. And normally I’d be trying to do whatever you found sexy, but you haven’t given me a lot to go on, so I’m just…” He twisted his hand a little on the upstroke and palmed the head, hissing. “Doing whatever feels good.”
“That is satisfactory,” said Spock. “I believe I will learn the most that way.”
“I’m getting close faster than usual,” Jim gasped out. “Because of the kissing earlier.”
“Is it true that humans find it erotic to ejaculate on their partners?”
Jim’s hand froze. “What?”
“I ask because I am suggesting you do so,” said Spock calmly, lifting his eyes at last from Jim’s cock to make eye contact.
“Why?”
Spock blinked innocently. “It occurred to me that it might improve your experience.”
Jim revised upward in his mind his estimation of Spock’s sex education. If he knew that, he definitely didn’t need any of this explained to him. “On your shirt?”
“My face would also be acceptable.”
Jim bit his lip, picturing that. God. His hand moved faster on his cock now, pumping eagerly, desperate to make it happen. He stopped talking, too aroused to speak. It all felt so good, and Spock was here, and Spock wanted him to—
He came, spurting once across Spock’s face, once on his shirt, and a little dribble down over his fingers. Spock’s eyes, which had closed at the moment itself, blinked open. He licked a drop of cum off his lip. “Fascinating.”
Jim stared at him, half reveling in the sight of Spock decorated with his spunk, half guilty that he had done such a thing, even by request, to somebody as dignified as him. Surely Spock was only trying to be nice, experimenting with a human sex act which would require less of him than actual contact. Should Jim be accepting these efforts or reassuring him they weren’t necessary?
He tore his shirt off and handed it to Spock to clean off his face. Then he dropped onto his knees, draping his torso over Spock’s lap. “That was…intense,” he said.
Spock stroked his hair, rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you for permitting me to observe.”
“I suppose your curiosity is satisfied now,” said Jim, a little glumly.
“Not at all. This was…an interesting introduction, but over time I would like to experience the full range of sexual practices with you.”
“Even outside of pon farr?”
“Certainly,” said Spock. “It may be more challenging to produce a sexual response given the reduced hormonal load, but I have never known you to back down from a challenge before, Jim.”
Jim’s head came up. Something about how he had said that twigged a primal reaction. “Are you challenging me, Spock?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is it necessary for me to?”
“All you had to do was ask,” said Jim.
Spock lowered his eyelashes demurely. “You may, of course, refuse. Perhaps you would have preferred a more enthusiastic partner.”
“You’ll be enthusiastic when I’m finished with you,” said Jim, dangerously. He got to his feet. He’d have his mouth on Spock in five seconds if he was allowed to.
“We shall see,” said Spock, swiveling his chair back to face the desk. “Tonight, however, I would prefer to finish our game. I have been waiting for you to move that knight for twenty-eight minutes.”
Jim didn’t sleep very well that night. His mind whirled between what had happened and what might happen next time. How to unlock his reserved first officer, show him all the pleasure he could take. Now that Spock had made his desires clear—or as clear as he could manage to, without calling them desires or admitting to wanting pleasure—it was up to Jim to figure out to give him everything.
The most vital thing, as it had been from the moment they’d met, was playing along. If Spock moaned, whimpered, panted, Jim would politely pretend that it hadn’t happened, that Spock had remained his logical experimental partner till the end.
In the morning, Spock met him to walk to the bridge together as usual. Jim knocked shoulders with him, brushed hands, but that was more or less as usual too. This had been coming for such a long time, it seemed a marvel that he’d doubted.
On the bridge, their eyes met again and again. Each time Spock’s eyes crinkled a little at the corners, and Jim felt a warm smile spread over his face. They were such a pair of saps, it seemed the whole bridge must know.
When Spock bent over his scanner—a perfectly normal thing, which he did every day—Jim could hardly breathe. It felt like Spock was doing it on purpose, which was ridiculous, because after all he had always done that.
Then again, perhaps he had been seducing Jim for a very long time. Who could say? Spock sure wouldn’t admit to it.
Jim wished he knew what the appeal of this whole thing was for Spock. He wasn’t fooled for a second by the logic argument. A logical partner would be somebody like T’Pring. No, logic was as usual being used as a cover for something, but lord knew what. Emotional attachment, almost certainly; he’d known that for a while and it was one of his main reasons for speaking up.
But Spock wanted sex, too. Why? Was it pleasant for his ego to be desired? Was he, as he said, just curious what it would be like? Or had he been disappointed to miss out on his first pon farr, and wanted to find out what all the fuss was all about?
Whatever it was, Jim was going to give it to him. In buckets. Until Spock told him to stop. Hopefully he ended up enjoying it so much he never did.
Jim arrived at Spock’s quarters the second he was finished with dinner. Spock admitted him with a nod. “I hope I’m not being overeager,” Jim said. “It’s just, I love you so much, and I can hardly bear to be away from you.”
“Your enthusiasm speaks well of you,” said Spock, standing in the middle of his quarters without moving to sit down.
“Do you, uh, do you want to play chess?” Jim asked. “Or…?”
“Your chess game suffered a great deal last night due to distraction,” said Spock. “I think it is best, if you desire sexual contact, that we do that first.”
Jim chuckled and moved into his arms. “I desire it very much, Spock,” he murmured. “The only thing that holds me back is not wanting to overwhelm you.”
“That is illogical,” said Spock, his arms resting comfortably around Jim’s back. “I am capable of telling you to stop at any time.”
“Is that how you want to play it? I do what I want till you tell me to stop?”
Spock tipped his head, considering. “That strikes me as the most efficient method for ensuring ongoing consent. I do not predict any difficulty in my ability to vocalize hesitation as needed.”
Jim leaned his forehead against Spock’s. It was an overwhelming request, but also a compelling one. Permission to do whatever it took to coax pleasure out of Spock. Probably he would get uncomfortable pretty quickly, since he was unused to letting himself experience pleasure of any kind, but until then it was going to be fun. “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, and fastened his lips to Spock’s.
Spock kissed back more this time. From time to time his lips fastened on Jim’s lips, nipping and lightly tugging. His tongue gently caressed Jim’s. There was nothing of actual desire, of neediness, in it, but he clearly wanted to make Jim enjoy it.
Which Jim did. He let himself be noisy in his appreciation, moaning into Spock’s mouth and pressing against Spock’s body. When his erection pressed into Spock’s hip, he ground against it, breath hitching. Meanwhile his hands wandered over Spock’s body, from his trim ass to the elfin points of his ears.
After a bit, he stopped grinding on Spock and moved back. “You do not need to stop,” said Spock immediately.
Jim smiled. “You want me to keep at it?”
“You seemed to enjoy it,” Spock argued.
Jim gave him one more firm thrust before leading him over to the bed. “I did. But what I would like right now is to take your clothes off.”
Spock regarded him blankly. “Very well.” He didn’t move.
Jim undressed him, kissing every part of Spock that he uncovered. “Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking his fingers through Spock’s chest hair, flattening his tongue over a nipple.
“Thank you, Jim,” said Spock politely.
Jim bit his lip, chuckling, and undid Spock’s pants. Spock stepped out of his boots and pants when directed and stood there in black boxer briefs looking as unruffled as on the bridge. Well. That would change.
He pushed Spock gently down on the bed. “We do not remove the undergarments at this point?” asked Spock.
“Not yet,” said Jim, taking off his own clothes and dropping them carelessly on the floor. He crawled over Spock on the bed, kissing his mouth and then down his neck. “Is it cheating if I ask about Vulcan erogenous zones?”
“I have heard that hands can be, in the proper context.”
Jim picked up one of Spock’s long-fingered hands. He’d been lusting over those hands for years. It seemed almost too perfect that they were sensitive, too.
He stroked Spock’s hand with his fingers, breathed on it, kissed it. Spock watched him attentively, without a hitch of his breath or a bat of an eyelash. Damn. He flickered his tongue over Spock’s fingertips and finally took one into his mouth, sucking it like a cock.
No response.
“You seem frustrated, Jim,” Spock commented.
Jim sighed. “I just really want you to enjoy this.”
“Pure sensual enjoyment is un-Vulcan,” said Spock. “However, it does not follow that there is no pleasurable sensation arising from your actions.”
Jim glared at him. “If this is doing something for you, you’ve got to tell me. Otherwise how are we supposed to gather any data? If you tell me nothing, then I assume you don’t like it, because you’ve contaminated the results with a false negative.”
Spock blinked rapidly several times. “You make a cogent argument, Jim. Suffice it to say that your attentions to my fingers are having the effect I suggested.”
A slow smile broke over Jim’s face. “That’s all I needed to know.” He let his weight down, sitting on Spock’s pelvis, and settled down to fellating the rest of Spock’s fingers. Spock was still impassive, but Jim chose to ignore that. Instead, he only got more vocal about his own enjoyment, humming around Spock’s fingers and rocking his hips. Slowly, Spock’s eyes took on an inward look. That was good; he’d be focusing on his pleasure now, fanning that little spark to a flame.
Jim moved down Spock’s body and regarded the black briefs. “You’re wet,” he commented, pleased.
“That is normal in a well-hydrated Vulcan.”
“So you wouldn't say you're aroused?”
“I would not say that, no.”
He rubbed his thumbs against the sizable damp patch. Below was a featureless mound which would be hiding the cock. Jim had always thought Vulcan anatomy was pretty sexy; you had to work to get to the good stuff. But now he was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to get that far. He could suck a flaccid cock to hardness, but if he couldn’t even touch the cock, what were his odds of getting anywhere?
Nothing to do but try. Pressing his mouth to Spock’s crotch, he breathed hot air against the mound of flesh.
Spock made no sound, but the mound twitched slightly. It was going to have to do. He didn’t want to rush Spock, but he also didn’t want him to get bored. He hitched off Spock’s underwear, exposing a hairy mound bisected vertically by a green slash.
Jim was almost certain this was a good sign. If Spock hadn’t been aroused at all, the slash would be shut tight, and now at least it was loose enough to see. Parting the wet black hair, he ran his tongue up the slit. His eyes fluttered shut. Spock tasted of juniper and musk, an erotic taste he knew he’d be craving ever after.
Which reminded him of his goal here: make it so good that he would be allowed to do this many more times, and not just as an experiment. He moaned against Spock’s skin and began licking in earnest, nibbling at the edges.
“This sensation is stimulating also,” Spock remarked dispassionately.
“Good, that’s the idea,” Jim panted encouragingly. As sedate as Spock was, his body was clearly responding to this, getting looser and wetter by the minute. The thought of that was driving Jim crazy, and he ground himself into the bed in desperation.
Finally the slick wet head of a green cock parted the lips of the slit, and Jim made a noise of delight before taking it into his mouth. He sucked gently on it until it was fully out, standing long and upright, with a slight downward curve.
“This cannot be very pleasurable to you,” Spock commented.
“My goal tonight is to give you a good time.”
“That is not mine,” said Spock peevishly. “I particularly wanted this to be satisfying for you.”
Reluctantly, Jim gave one goodbye kiss to Spock’s dick and crawled up his body again. “You’ll find I’m very easy to please,” he murmured as he nuzzled into Spock’s neck, grinding their cocks together. It was wonderfully slick, seeming to get wetter by the second. Jim was soon propped on his elbows, rocking eagerly against him, breathing in choking gasps. “Oh god—Spock—I love you so much—so good—”
Spock’s eyes were on his, open and warm, and Jim felt a tremendous surge of gratitude. Spock loved him, that was a fact, even if it was a fact he couldn’t say out loud. And Spock was letting him do this. He might not be moving or making a sound, but he was cupping Jim’s ass gently in his palms and his eyes showed he was present. His breath huffed to the rhythm of Jim’s movements, lips slightly parted.
Jim thrust through the slickness between their bodies and came, shuddering and gasping. When he had recovered, he propped himself on one arm and reached between them. Spock was still hard, so Jim took hold of his cock and stroked it, murmuring all the while, “This is wonderful, Spock. You’re wonderful. I’ve dreamed of this for years, wanting you, wanting to touch you, to give you this. I want to see you come apart for me. Can you do it, my love? Can you come for me?”
Spock’s hand came up, two fingers thrusting into Jim’s mouth. Jim sucked on them obediently, thrilled that Spock had taken some initiative at last.
A brief flutter of Spock’s eyelashes, a twitch of his cock, and a warm jet splattered on Jim’s hip. Jim gasped, which was more reaction to it than Spock had had. “Beautiful,” he whispered, fighting off disappointment. He had wanted to see it, see how it made Spock feel. But it was all right, as long as Spock had liked it, and he must have.
“Was it—okay?” Jim asked, rolling off him.
Spock didn’t answer at first. He was taking deep, slow breaths and his eyes were closed. After a moment he turned his head to give Jim a questioning look. “You know that it was. The biological signs are unmistakable in both human and Vulcan males.”
Jim opened his mouth to ask another question and decided against it. If Spock had to play it like this, there was nothing he could do about it, and Spock wouldn’t want him to. So he only said, “Thank you for letting me do this.”
“I hope you do not think I am doing you a favor, Jim,” said Spock. “This is to our mutual benefit.”
“Good,” said Jim. “I only want it if it really is—beneficial for you, Spock.”
“I will inform you if it is ever otherwise.”
Spock felt almost as though he were losing his mind.
It was simply an excess of positive emotion. Jim loved him. Jim wanted him. Jim did illogical, possibly illegal things to his body and his hormones. It could not possibly be permitted for anyone, let alone a Vulcan, to experience this much pleasure.
They were in Jim’s cabin now, and Jim was kissing him. It was difficult to focus on kissing back when it was so overwhelming to be kissed, but he put his best effort into it. He had done far too little for Jim last time.
After not nearly enough of that, Jim pulled away. “I’m sorry, is this too much? Did you want to do something else?”
Jim had always understood before. Now that sex was in the picture, Jim was uncharacteristically nervous, lacking his usual sly confidence that he knew exactly what Spock was thinking. It seemed improbable that Jim could overlook the signs, and yet he seemed entirely ignorant that Spock was desperate for him.
Spock hinted as hard as he could, but there was only so much he could do. The very thought of showing Jim his desire made his skin prickle with shame. It was inappropriate to admit to emotion, especially this emotion. If Spock let himself, he would soon humiliate himself, mewling and whining for more, and even tolerant Jim must find it distasteful.
“A large body of research suggests that frequent sexual contact has positive benefits for couples,” Spock said instead.
Jim smiled. “Ah, but how frequent? I know I’m a little needy where that’s concerned.”
“Not excessively so.” Not to the degree Spock was. Jim had control of himself. Jim would be willing to go without it entirely, even though he wanted it. Spock felt like he would die if he did not have it. He needed Jim’s golden eyes on him, that soft voice praising him, that rough hand touching him. He felt ill with how much he needed those things. “Every night is agreeable to me if you desire it.”
Jim moved closer again, nuzzling Spock’s neck. “Mm, well, tell me if that ever changes. Because you’re an addiction, Spock. I’ve been thinking about you all day. All the things I did to you. All the things I want to do next.”
At the thought, slick filled his sheath and his lok began to swell. Automatically he tamped down those reactions; it was a reflex at this point, from years of hard work. “I am interested to see what you have thought of.”
This was, at last, enough to convince Jim to move forward. He came back to kiss Spock, rubbing against him through their clothes. It was a bewitching sensation, one he could have experienced forever. He would have liked Jim to continue it to completion, except there were so many other ways he wanted to see Jim climax, and human males had a long refractory period.
Spock felt as though he were floating, out of his body, and yet so intensely in his body, surrounded by sensation. He barely noticed when Jim walked him backward toward the bed, and his efforts to undress himself were uncommonly clumsy.
There was only one frightening moment, when Jim was cuddled next to him, fingers sliding delicately along his genital slit, teasing inside. Spock suddenly felt inadequate, selfish, undesirable. Jim was doing so much for him, and he had made very little return. “Am I—satisfactory, Jim?”
Immediately he hated himself for it, that needy request for reassurance, and added, “Or rather, what could I be doing to make this experience more pleasant for you?”
“You’re more than satisfactory,” said Jim, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You don’t need to do a thing, not if you don’t want to. I think last night showed it doesn’t take much for me.”
Spock envied him that. He had experienced more than enough pleasure to orgasm already, if it were only about that, but his mind had been fighting it throughout, tamping down his responses. If he were more human, his responses would be much more appropriate and satisfactory to Jim; but if he were more Vulcan, he would not feel this emotional need to display those responses. He would have liked to stop holding back, but it felt embarrassing, shameful even to try.
“Satisfying me takes an excessive amount of effort for you,” he said. “I am uncertain if it is worth it.”
Jim’s fingers paused, which was terrible, but it lifted some of the haze from Spock’s mind. “Spock, if you enjoy it, any amount of work is worth it,” he said gently. “If you don’t…”
Spock panicked. If Jim should stop—if he had to say he wanted it or Jim would stop—
“If you don’t, tell me to stop,” finished Jim with a sly smile, and the relief was so intense that Spock’s sheath relaxed all at once, releasing his lok in a gush of fluid. Jim’s fingers dove into the sheath around it, caressing the base, encircling the lok and stripping it upward. Spock’s mind exploded into pleasure again, his body too lost in bliss to move a muscle.
“Any ideas as to the next direction our research should take?” Jim asked, a teasing glint in his green eyes.
Spock recovered himself enough to speak. “You might penetrate me,” he ventured.
Jim looked surprised. “Do you want me to?”
Spock narrowed his eyes. “It was only a suggestion.”
“Oh, Spock.” Jim smiled fondly. His hand, slicked already with the fluid from Spock’s sheath, wandered lower, sliding between his buttocks. “If you don’t want me to, now’s the time to mention it.”
Spock closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. It was all right. Jim was beginning to understand him now. Those blunt fingers seemed to trail sparks behind them as they investigated, probed, caressed. He could feel no more than the vague sense of Jim’s hot, dynamic mind, but that was arousing enough.
Jim eased into him, and Spock heard his own breath come rasping through his open mouth. It embarrassed him and he shut it, swallowing hard. He glanced up at Jim to see if he had noticed, but Jim’s eyes were shut and he was biting his soft bottom lip, little whimpers escaping his mouth. In him, it was both appropriate and attractive. To see a side of Jim that was not seen by all; to have visible and audible proof that he was pleased by this.
He felt regret that he was not providing Jim with the same feedback, but now that he had successfully contained his pleasure, it felt impossible to voluntarily release it again. So he only curled his legs more tightly against his chest and said, “Jim, you may move if you wish.”
Those warm golden eyes opened and smiled down on him. “I do wish,” Jim purred, and then he was driving into Spock relentlessly, piling pleasure upon pleasure, and Spock could not breathe. His nictating membrane slid down. It only took a moment to correct both responses, but Jim had seen them this time, judging by his satisfied expression and the way he redoubled his movements.
Spock squirmed slightly with shame. Kaiidth. It was not as though he were unaware that Jim would not mind, that Jim found his responses erotic. Nothing that happened between himself and Jim was public; it was as secret as his own mind. But the thought of what he must have looked like embarrassed him into tighter control. He stilled his body, blanked his face. Jim did not seem convinced; his expression was half fierce enjoyment, half smugness.
Jim had hold of his lok now, was stroking it, and it was all spiraling quickly past Spock’s control. He was flying apart, he was falling to pieces. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling as his body responded despite him, as it climaxed and flooded him with pleasure. There was a great satisfaction in knowing it did not require his permission to do this; that there was a point beyond which he could no longer control.
Jim kept stroking and Spock kept coming for some time before shuddering at last to a stop. He opened his eyes shyly in time to see Jim, too, overtaken by pleasure. On him it was dramatic, beautiful. His head flung back, his face slack, a flush spreading down from his face and over his chest. Jim’s hips thrust jerkily a few more times before he stilled, relaxing and lowering Spock’s hips back to the bed.
“Gorgeous, Spock,” said Jim with feeling. He cleaned Spock with a cloth, a tiny intimacy that made Spock feel both cherished and strangely vulnerable. When he was finished, he snuggled against Spock’s side, head on his shoulder. “It’s so good with you, Spock. Always.”
Spock felt skeptical of this claim. His behavior had been exactly of the type humans considered negative in sexual contexts: lying there like a dead fish was a phrase he remembered McCoy using. “I apologize,” he ventured, “that I am not—”
Jim interrupted him with a kiss, tongue languidly exploring his mouth. “I never asked you to be anything but yourself,” he said. “And I think I’m…getting the hang of you.”
“You have been quite adept at this from the beginning,” said Spock.
Jim flushed and tucked his head back onto Spock’s shoulder. “Why thank you, Spock.”
Spock began to feel uncomfortable again. Jim was lying half on top of him, and Spock should be embracing him, but he was not. At the same time he was not appropriate either. He was naked and undignified. He had exposed himself terribly, both physically and emotionally. He almost wished someone would call attention to it so that he could craft a withering comeback.
Instead he said, “I am glad I have so far been able to provide for your human physical needs.”
As soon as he had said the words, he wanted to call them back. They were aloof, disdainful; they would hurt Jim’s beloved feelings.
But Jim only huffed against his shoulder. “They’re illogical, I know. But you’re very generous to cater to them anyway.”
He had that tone in his voice, the tone that said he knew, and he knew that Spock knew that he knew. Spock relaxed. This much was entirely familiar. It was not new at all, and the man who had been patient with him up to now was still tolerant here, in this.
He should have known that Jim would rise to the challenge, as he did with every one he faced.
“It’s around the time we should be reporting this to Command,” Jim said over dinner in his quarters one evening.
A relationship that lasted under two weeks did not need to be reported; Command presumably got tired of handling paperwork of every hookup. But Command expected to be told about anything serious, and Jim didn’t think it could get any more serious.
“I shall complete the paperwork and have it on your desk in the morning,” said Spock.
Jim let his eye rove over this man, sedately eating plain carrot soup, even though Jim knew for a fact he liked plomeek better. Spock felt it was an unseemly indulgence to go to extra trouble to eat something simply because it tasted good. Just like it was an unseemly indulgence to admit to liking sex.
Jim was quite sure of him now, though. He would come up with the most convoluted reasons every night why sex was the only logical choice, quietly put up with whatever Jim did to him, and then unmistakably lose himself just a little bit every time he came.
It took a lot of work to get Spock off, but that was all right. Spock deserved it. He let himself have so few pleasures; if it took pretending he was doing Jim a favor and then a solid half hour of foreplay to get him to enjoy this one, that was what he would have.
“I have another proposal,” ventured Spock after a moment. “There have been several missions lately in which we were separated, and either could not find one another, or one of us was replaced by a double. Normally, of course, there would be little I could do about this besides the usual protocols, but it has occurred to me that in our case a telepathic bond would have several practical advantages.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” said Jim.
Spock looked reproachful. “Do not agree so quickly; I have not yet explained what it is.”
“Sorry.”
“It is the way Vulcans commit ourselves to our mates,” Spock explained. “Ordinarily, it would be more in accordance with your culture to wait some months, as is typically done before a human marriage. But given the practical benefits, it seemed worth at least mentioning it now.”
Jim blinked. “So by a proposal, you mean you are proposing marriage.”
“Essentially, yes. You may wish to take some time to consider.”
Covering Spock’s hand on the table with his, Jim said earnestly, “I don’t need to. I want you forever, Spock, you know that.”
Spock stared down into his soup. “I did not expect you to agree so readily. It is not normative to humans.”
Jim caressed Spock’s hand with his thumb. “It’s okay if you need time to think about it.”
“I do not.” Spock reached out immediately.
When they’d melded before, it had been goal oriented, something shallow which Jim didn’t perceive much from. This was different. As Spock’s fingers settled into place, he could feel Spock sinking into him. Into his mind. His presence was closely contained, hotter, somehow, than Jim had expected. Intense.
He had known Spock felt; anybody who knew Spock knew that. But to feel this much …it was dizzying, almost unbearable, but Jim clung fast to the sensation anyway. Under that tight control, it was a smoldering fire.
Spock had never said I love you, and Jim would have said he didn’t need him to because he knew it anyway. Now Jim realized he hadn’t known it, not a fraction of it, and words could never have contained it anyway.
Spock saw him perceiving this and somehow coiled himself even tighter, embarrassed to be caught out, even in his own mind. Jim focused on his own love and acceptance, his joy at Spock’s affection for him, and eventually Spock relaxed.
Too soon, Spock was pulling out again, and Jim braced against the feeling of loss he always got when Spock ended a meld. But it didn’t happen. Even when they weren’t touching anymore, Jim could feel Spock’s mind, not quite as distinctly, but still definitely there. Parted from me and never parted, he thought, awed.
Spock rested his hands back on the table, radiating relief and a little embarrassment. He had rushed this, Jim realized. He had wanted it so much but been so terrified of being perceived that he had flung himself into Jim’s mind in a hurry, before he could chicken out.
It was adorable. Jim took Spock’s hand again, caressing it in both of his, attempting to project his fondness for his new bondmate.
He was struck, like a thunderclap, with a tremendous surge of lust. Shocked, he met Spock’s eyes, which were placid as ever. He stroked his thumb across Spock’s fingertips. No response on Spock’s face. A tidal wave of desire through the bond.
“You lied to me!” he protested. The bond, he hoped, would assure Spock he wasn’t really angry. “You said outside of pon farr you weren’t that into sex!”
“That is not precisely what I said.”
“You let me believe you needed seducing!” Jim went on. “There I was teasing you and teasing you in the hopes you would maybe feel a little something for me!”
Spock’s shoulders drew up minutely in embarrassment.
Jim shook his head, exasperated. “Pretending you don’t like it just so you can be the laziest pillow princess in the world—” Abruptly, he stopped. That wasn’t it at all, was it? In a softer voice, he ventured, “Can you explain why?”
“If I could explain it, I would have done so.”
Jim’s hand flattened over Spock’s, maximizing contact. He searched Spock’s face while pushing slightly in the hopes of finding anything out over the bond. There was love, still; desire; twisting shame; iron control.
“You couldn’t show it,” he said slowly. “Spock, you know I’d never judge you.”
“I am aware,” said Spock impatiently. “It is a matter of…habit.”
“The Vulcan training,” said Jim. “Never showing your feelings.”
“I have never been as adept at it as other Vulcans,” said Spock, radiating shame.
“Bullshit,” said Jim. “You were just under more scrutiny than they were.”
Spock allowed this with a minute lift of one shoulder. “Nevertheless, it has been the focus of significant effort.”
“And now you don’t know how to stop.”
Spock said nothing.
“How do Vulcans usually manage?”
Spock raised his eyebrows. “I suppose some overcome it. The bond would be likely to help. I know many simply do not attempt it.”
Of course sexual dysfunction would be rampant in a society like that, wouldn’t it? “That’s…too bad.”
“Recreational sexual contact is not a necessity. And the pon farr cycle ensures that we still manage to reproduce.”
“I’m not waiting seven years,” said Jim. “I was willing to, when I thought you didn’t want it. Now I see that you’re—”
A wary expression appeared on Spock’s face.
“—willing,” Jim edited on the fly, “I’m going full speed ahead.”
“I had encouraged you to.”
“And I was feeling like a selfish ass,” said Jim. “And, I don’t mind telling you, a little unwanted.”
“Jim,” Spock protested, eyes wide. “You are extremely desirable.”
“I didn’t want to be desirable. I wanted to be desired by you.”
Spock looked unhappy. “It is difficult for you. You derive pleasure from the knowledge of your attractiveness and sexual prowess. I do not respond in the way you desire.”
Jim stood up and came round the table, cupping Spock’s cheeks in his hands. “Oh, Spock. I know now. It’s all right.”
More embarrassment from Spock. “It is not appropriate—”
“Spock, you’ve gotta make your peace with the fact that the person you just let into your mind can perceive it,” said Jim, a little exasperated. “Now you’re free to pretend you hate it as hard as you like, and I’ll give it to you anyway, because I do know. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. Just think of it as an experiment to see how much one well-hydrated Vulcan can come.”
A tiny spark came into Spock’s eyes. “I am amenable.”
Jim climbed into Spock's lap and trailed his lips down the side of Spock's neck. Arousal rushed over the bond.
“This is most undignified,” said Spock.
“I know,” said Jim, moving to his mouth. He kept the kiss light and languid, but he could feel Spock rapidly becoming overwhelmed. He wasn't bored at all, not impassive and unresponsive. He reciprocated so little because he could barely think.
He broke the kiss. “You just hate this, don't you?”
“Vulcans do not kiss with the mouth,” said Spock. “It is unhygienic.”
“Mm, how terrible for you.” Jim reconnected their mouths, rocking his hips forward. Listening to the bond, and not the words, he slipped his tongue into Spock's mouth, lightly teasing. He was going to do it right, this time. With the bond, he wouldn’t be guessing in the dark about how Spock was taking it. He knew even the smallest thing was driving Spock crazy.
Spock protested everything. When Jim took off his shirt, he commented, “There can be no logic in your kissing my chest, Jim, as it is not an erogenous zone.” He had very sensitive nipples; they hardened in Jim’s mouth. When Jim pulled him over to the bed, he sighed and said, “Are you certain you would not rather play chess?” Jim could feel him panting for it.
“This is just one of the unpleasant downsides of being with a human,” Jim said apologetically, pulling down Spock’s waistband as Spock hiked up his hips to let him. “We want sex all the time. Every single night. Whereas you, of course, won’t want it for six more years.”
Spock lowered his eyelids in self-satisfied delight. “I am capable of being selfless if it means keeping my mate contented.”
“Good,” said Jim. He slid his hand along the inside of Spock’s thigh, which was slick from how much Spock had been leaking, waiting for this. It was unbearably erotic, and he glided his fingers through the wetness almost, but not quite, all the way to the top. “You can meditate through it if it becomes too terrible.”
“I am capable of enduring much worse than this,” said Spock primly. “I doubt anything you do will have much effect on me.”
Jim grinned. Finally they were back to their old banter, their old understanding. It was just like on the bridge, letting Spock lie to him and not being fooled for a moment. It had been too risky to assume that, before. With the bond, he had constant assurance he wasn’t reading Spock wrong. And now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see it a little bit. The slackness in Spock’s body, the half-lidding of his eyes…they weren’t signs of boredom at all.
Spock felt more naked than he had ever been before. Stripped bare. Even if his control was perfect, even if he showed nothing at all of what he felt, Jim would still know. Jim did know. Jim was watching him now, a fey green light in his eyes and a self-satisfied smile on his lips, as his fingers traced maddening patterns on Spock’s skin.
“What exactly are you attempting to do?” he demanded, to alleviate his sense of vulnerability. “What does this accomplish for you?”
“Have you ever heard of a service top, Spock?” Jim asked, still leaning over him on one elbow, still maintaining eye contact, still reaching down with the other hand to tease at Spock’s genital slit.
“I cannot say that—I have,” said Spock, betrayed by the hitch in his breath, but Jim politely took no notice.
“Means I get off on getting you off,” said Jim obscurely.
“If I understand your—colloquialisms correctly, you—have the wrong partner for that particular fetish.”
“I’ll ask you to let me be the judge of that, Mr. Spock,” said Jim. He leaned down to kiss Spock, thrusting his tongue into Spock’s mouth at the same time as he pushed his finger into Spock’s slit. It was so unexpected, after all the light maddening teasing, that Spock’s body went momentarily as tense as a wire. He relaxed, beginning to retreat into himself to hide from the intensity of his own response, but Jim pulled his lips away and murmured, “Damn, and I was hoping that would work on you.”
It was a lie, and the charity of that lie stole Spock’s breath away. “I am sorry to disappoint,” he said, low. “You may attempt it further if you like it.”
“I do like it, Spock,” breathed Jim, and then his lips were back, and his tongue, and his finger. They worked in a glorious unison, and Spock felt he was being invaded, consumed, overruled. He was beyond control. He was beyond all help. But, he lied to himself, Jim would not notice a thing.
The finger worked into him, pressing into his slit over and over. It slid behind his lok, bumping over the ridges, making a revolting squelching sound, making the sides of his slit loosen. He would not allow it to open—he would not—
He climaxed unexpectedly inside his sheath, pulses of ejaculate spilling out of him and onto Jim’s hand. Jim made a strangled sound into his mouth, overcome by the echo of that climax along the bond, but he did not stop. He pressed his needy erection to Spock’s hip and worked his fingers in and out, in and out, until the waves of Spock’s orgasm had finally passed.
Jim broke away at last to pant for breath, exactly as if he had been the one to climax. “Sorry,” he said at last, “Too much?”
“Not enough,” said Spock, his voice turned throaty and rasping. “A Vulcan, you may not know, requires a great deal more.”
Jim glanced down to see Spock’s genital slit had opened, that his lok was rising erect from it. “Ah, yet another way the Vulcan body is superior,” he said, looking surprised and delighted.
Spock wanted his delight to continue. “How will you use it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I am at your disposal.”
Jim looked thoughtful. “Can I…ride you?”
“This is a phrase that implies I am inside you at the time?” Spock queried.
Jim’s cheeks pinked. “Yeah, if—if you’re all right with that.”
“It seems a most logical way to satisfy your human sensuality.”
“Yeah,” Jim breathed, his slick hand reaching behind himself. “I’m an illogical, lustful human, and I want you inside me. That beautiful green cock, all the way in. All you have to do is be patient and put up with it.”
“Vulcans,” said Spock, a prickle of desire passing over him, “are always patient.”
Jim had to sit up to enact his strategy. Spock’s hands hesitated in the air a moment before he placed them on Jim’s bulky thighs. Breathing out slowly, Jim impaled himself, took Spock into himself, surrounded Spock with himself. The sensation was—indescribable. Jim was so warm. Tight.
Jim slid over him inch by inch, and Spock curled his toes, out of Jim’s sight. At last those ripe buttocks were resting directly on his pelvis, touching the wet and sensitive lips of his genital slit. Jim pressed his hands against Spock’s chest. “All right?”
“Yes, sir,” said Spock automatically, barely conscious of anything that was not the tight embrace of Jim’s body.
Jim bit his lip and lowered his eyelashes. “It shouldn’t be sexy when you say that, but it is.”
“I am gratified that I give satisfaction,” said Spock. His hands tightened slightly on Jim’s thighs.
At last Jim began to move, tentatively at first, angling his body one way or another in search of the right position. Then, it seemed he found the movement that satisfied him the most. He lifted up and slid sharply back down, over and over and over. His face was transfigured with pleasure, and he moaned on every stroke. He looked wanton, unrestrained, and so, so human.
Spock watched him, almost forgetting his own self-consciousness at the sight of Jim’s transparent enjoyment, almost believing the pleasure that rushed through him at every motion was only Jim’s, and not their combined pleasure singing back and forth over the bond.
Jim’s hand came up, brushing idly against a nipple, and Spock, inspired, touched the other one the same way. Jim’s eyes flew open in surprise, and Spock, embarrassed, moved his hand away.
“No, no,” gasped Jim, achingly gentle. “I like that—please—please touch me, if you—if you don’t mind too much, Spock.”
Spock returned his hand to Jim’s nipple, brushing it with his thumb, rolling it gently between thumb and forefinger. Jim’s mind sparkled with desire. He started whimpering, and his hand moved down to grasp his pink human erection. He was close to climax— they were close to climax, Spock realized, but he pushed the thought away. He only wanted to think about Jim, to lose himself in everything Jim was feeling.
He wrapped his hand around Jim’s erection, above Jim’s hand, and tried to match his movements. Jim cried out desperately and let go of himself, let Spock take over. Spock stroked him urgently, feeling Jim’s climax hovering at the edge of his mind. He wanted to give it to Jim. Without thinking, he thrust upward, meeting him as he descended, once, twice, and then Jim groaned, releasing his seed onto Spock’s chest. Spock was coming too, completely without forethought or intention; he was lost in it. As if from far away, he heard a deep groan in a voice he knew was his.
Jim wilted, half collapsing onto Spock’s chest. “That was,” he said. “Wow.”
“The bond, I believe, makes it more intense for you.”
“And for you?” Jim carefully moved off of him, letting Spock’s spent lok slip out.
Spock schooled his face, raising one eyebrow. “I apologize if at any point I was…undignified. It is likely due to transference of your excessive human emotionality.”
Jim started to laugh. It filled the room with its warm human sound, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to tighten as he drew Jim against him. Jim kept chuckling, muffling his face in Spock’s shoulder. “It probably is,” he said, gasping helplessly. “It almost certainly is my excessive human emotionality.”
“I do not mind,” said Spock, running his fingers along Jim’s bare arm. “One must make allowances for humans.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Spock, for making allowances.” His mouth still curved, amused, against Spock’s skin. “I’m a very lucky human.”
“I believe the good fortune is all on my side,” said Spock. “A little human emotionality is a small price to pay.”