(no subject)
Title: Moths.
Author: lady_razzle
Pairing: Spock/Kirk, Spock/Kirk/Spock (not Spockprime) (Implied Spockprime/Kirkprime)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Like moths drawn irresistibly toward the light, there is something about James T Kirk that seems to attract Spocks. It's not his fault.
A/N: Betad by albion_lass (<333) Threesome fic that grew a plot when I wasn't looking.
Surprisingly few people spared the Vulcan a second glance as he made his way down the main street of the town. The planet was not quite a hub of intergalactic activity but what it lacked in entertainment, it made up for in advantageous location and scientific potential. Vulcans were, therefore, not infrequent visitors.
If, on the other hand, any of them had been acquainted with this particular Vulcan, he would have attracted second and third glances, whispered questions and a wide berth. The faint lines of tension, the colour in his cheeks and the barely-detectable stutter in his determined step belied the tempest of his rage to only the keenest or most familiar observer. Beneath his near-perfect exterior, fury had roiled inside him since the moment Jim’s emotions had begun to flood into him some minutes ago.
At first, separated by the distance between the planet and the ship, the emotions had been dulled; just a shaky impression of arousal which was, while mildly distracting and faintly irritating, a not uncommon emotion to receive across their bond. As flawlessly faithful to his bondmate as he was, Captain Kirk was nothing if not easily stimulated. It meant nothing, and Vulcans did not get jealous.
After a few minutes of low-level arousal, though, the feeling had escalated from ‘Jim is watching a semi-naked girl dancing’ to ‘Jim is in the proximity of somebody he finds almost irresistibly attractive’. Then he felt a scalding bowlful of intense, intimate excitement sluicing into his gut as acutely as if it were Spock’s own neck being assaulted with welcome kisses.
That was the precise moment at which Commander Spock had spat an instruction for Sulu to take the comm, abandoned the bridge and, with a very quick stop at the armoury, beamed down to the planet.
It didn’t take him long to find his captain, holed up in the villa-like guest quarters to which the landing party had been assigned for the duration of what was to be a short visit; combining a regular diplomatic check-up with the chance to investigate a reported spacial anomaly nearby. The Vulcan knew where his Captain should have been staying, but he wouldn’t have needed it; Jim’s inflamed sexuality was an emotional lighthouse.
Yet still, to all appearances, Spock seemed the picture of restraint, right up until he kicked the hinges off the Captain’s door.
Said Captain was pinned to the opposite wall by a tall, decidedly male figure. His legs were spread wide, one ankle hooked around his attacker’s calf and his head rolling back as his neck (a famous erogenous zone) was mauled.
Spock’s heart cracked down the centre as he saw Jim, his Jim, hiss encouragement and screw his fingertips into this stranger's jet-black hair. They were so engrossed in one another that they didn’t even stop to acknowledge Spock’s dramatic entrance.
“Remove yourself from my bondmate or I will shoot you where you stand,” Spock said, as casually as if he were ordering an Ensign to the bridge.
Jim’s eyes flashed open, but it was pure shock, not guilt, which saw him shoving his partner away, Spock’s own name a curse on his lips.
“Fuck, Spock!” Jim exclaimed. “What the hell?”
Spock was, suddenly, rather inclined to agree with him, as he lifted his weapon and kept it trained on the interloper.
“I believe this new information has brought me to several conclusions,” the stranger intoned levelly in a familiar voice.
“Spock, I…” Kirk started, his eyes wide and his lips red, swollen with welcomed abuse.
“I am relieved to see you were not consciously being unfaithful, Jim,” Spock said, with barely a glance in his direction. Too long an exposure to the sight of his lover, ravaged by another, would only inflame his fury further. He addressed the stranger. “Who are you, and why have you taken it upon yourself to assume my identity?”
Eyes that were the mirror of his own dulled slightly in what one familiar with Spock might recognise as disappointment.
“Please accept my apologies,” the second Spock said, his hands linking together behind his back. “I can offer a comprehensive explanation, although it is entirely possible that you will find it quite difficult to believe.”
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’d sure like to hear it,” Jim said, rubbing his mouth absently.
“I am not masquerading as you,” the new Vulcan stated. “I believe I am you.”
This clearly did not achieve quite the anticipated level of shock. Jim looked between the two and Spock lowered his phaser infinitesimally. Kirk sagged.
“Terrific,” he said sarcastically. “When are you from?”
The new Spock rallied well, letting only a touch of his own confusion infiltrate his manner.
“It is less a case of when and more a case of where,” he explained. “Although the specific vocabulary pertaining to fifth dimensional physics makes it difficult to offer a completely accurate explanation of my origin’s proximity.”
Spock tilted his head and lowered his phaser.
“Fascinating.”
Eventually, Spock calmed enough to agree that they could all sit, although he kept the phaser to hand, out of snatching reach and angled toward the interloper. As they descended into three seats that surrounded a small table (all just a little too short for full-grown humanoids, but tolerable), Spock reached out and casually dragged Jim’s chair a foot closer to his own, silencing any potential indignation with a pointed look. The newest addition to Kirk’s Spock collection looked for permission, then began to explain.
He talked about an experimental craft; one designed to detect and analyse space-time anomalies. Spock had left the mother ship in order to pilot the short-range, solo craft near to the quite lifeless planet on which they now stood, when he had detected an anomaly that was precisely of the appropriate kind. The signals were so interesting that, despite his plan to the contrary, he had switched on an untested piece of equipment designed to bounce shockwaves into the anomaly and monitor the resulting distortions.
In an instant, every instrument had exceeded the maximum readouts and the barely-visible fluctuations in the fabric of space-time had split open the blackness of space and dragged him irresistibly inward.
When he emerged, it was over a planet that showed very clear signs of life. He landed his largely undamaged ship and went searching for assistance.
It wasn’t a huge leap of logic; he swiftly worked out what had occurred and where he had ended up: A universe that was different but equal and parallel to his own. It was simultaneously a fascinating and problematic prospect. While it was thrilling from a scientific perspective, he was conscious of the large crack in the housing of the new resonator and the receiver had been split in two. He had the prospect of a whole new universe to explore, but no way to get back without assistance.
That had been the previous day and the very anomaly that had caught the attention of the Enterprise. Spock had detected the arrival of a Federation ship while attempting repairs to his own vehicle and planned to attempt contact the following day and request assistance.
“I don’t know how much help we can be,” Captain Kirk interjected. “Star Fleet doesn’t have technology of that calibre in this universe.”
“No, I imagine they do not, given that as a member of Star Fleet, you have not had chance to create it,” Spock3, as Kirk was coming to think of him, told his own Spock. (He already had a Spock2 who should, by order of age and rank, be the primary Spock and therefore Spock1, but he’d be damned if he considered any Spock before his own, no matter how much affection he felt for the ambassador.)
“Fascinating,” Spock replied. “You are not with Star Fleet.”
“No, indeed,” Spock3 confirmed. “I was admitted to the Vulcan Science Academy.”
Kirk flashed Spock a curious look.
“An invitation I declined,” Spock said with, perhaps, just a touch of defended pride. “Apparently that would be where our lives, at least, diverged.”
“Indeed,” Spock3 agreed. “A most interesting development.”
“Okay, okay,” Jim interjected, lifting a hand to interrupt. “I get it, it’s mind blowing, but if you aren’t in Star Fleet, how do you know me?”
“Captain Kirk,” Spock3 said, something just a little awkward in his manner. “I do not know you. I had never seen you before tonight.”
“But… I jumped you,” Jim pointed out incredulously. “I didn’t even speak to you.” Spock shot him a look and at least Kirk had the decency to look a little ashamed. “I thought you’d come to surprise me,” he admitted. “And you look really good in green,” he added, very obviously not looking at the second Vulcan as he sat, still resplendent in his bottle-green jumpsuit. Spock, however, did turn to look at him.
“It did not occur to you to question the motives of a complete stranger who attempts to seduce you without a single word?” he prompted.
“I was most certainly taken aback,” Spock3 confessed. “But the captain came across as being a character of… less than strict virtue.”
Jim smirked a little.
“Did you just call me slutty?”
“I believe that may be an appropriate interpretation of my first impression,” Spock3 agreed. “Through conversation with a native, I had recently discovered the fate of Vulcan in this reality and I would say… I believe I have been…”
“Emotionally compromised,” Spock supplied.
“Vulnerable enough to accept offered physical comfort,” Kirk concluded. Both Spocks nodded minutely.
“I had no intention of interfering with any bonds,” Spock3 said with a hint of regret.
“Well, there was no harm done,” Jim said, as brightly as he could manage. “Was there?” he considered, a tad more seriously, turning to Spock for confirmation.
“No damage was done to our bond,” he confirmed. “And I do not consider that we have suffered any transgression. As long as you are not offended at my considering the possibility that you were being unfaithful, then we have no cause for concern.”
“Excellent,” Spock3 said.
“And he is not ‘slutty’,” Spock said levelly.
~*~
They had an hour or two until local curfew would limit them to the planet’s surface. In the meantime, Spock3 took them to his ship, so Spock could get a feel for the technology and possibly suggest some way in which they could modify some of the Enterprise’s equipment to work in the Vulcan ship.
And that was the last Kirk was to see of his lover for some time. He was instantly enthralled, fascinated to an extent that saw Jim witness the Vulcan equivalent of bouncing off the walls and pointing at shiny things. Jim smiled to see his lover’s special brand of fiercely-restrained glee.
Kirk followed them on the grand tour for a while, until the conversation slid from generalities to that which was comprehensible to the layman and finally past what could be considered interesting even to somebody of Captain Kirk’s extraordinary intellect and curiosity.
Eventually, when the details were so intricate they could only be enjoyed by any number of Spocks, Jim gave up and made his way back out of the ship, into the glorified barn that was acting as a hangar.
It was, perhaps, twenty minutes before either Spock emerged. Jim was surprised at how easy it was to know which Spock was approaching without looking directly at him.
“Is he blinded by science?” Jim asked fondly. “I swear, sometimes he’ll get hard for an equation quicker than he would for me.”
“I do not believe I require any more of your acquaintance to conclude that that statement is quite inaccurate,” Spock3 replied.
Jim threw his head back and breathed a gulp of laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s a lie. But he does have a serious bone for this sort of thing,” he concluded.
“I can assure you,” Spock3 said, “if he is as like me as he appears, he is unlikely to experience substantial sexual arousal as a result of mathematical constructs.”
Jim smiled at him, having caught the substantial in the sentence, and cut his eyes at his new old friend, checking for the slight tense twitch that signalled the tease, the resistance to smile. Kirk snorted laughter again.
“Come here,” he said. “I have something for you.”
Spock3 raised an eyebrow and lowered himself to sit on the pile of rushes beside the captain. The reeds that covered the floor of the barn looked a lot like straw, but it was considerably softer and a peculiar silver colour. It was, Jim had discovered, quite comfortable.
“I took the liberty of having the ship beam down a few data files,” Kirk said. “Nothing too specific, no Federation secrets,” he grinned. “But I thought you might appreciate some information on the current arrangement of the universe. I mean, with the way he’s going at the moment, we’ll be here all night. I thought, if you had time, you could make a comparison. Even if you were planning on sticking around for a while, it’s a place to start, right?”
“Thank you,” Spock3 said earnestly. “This will be most interesting. And… it is very thoughtful of you.”
Jim smiled.
“Well, I’m a thoughtful kind of guy,” he said playfully.
“Conversely, I have ample evidence for the accuracy of that statement,” Spock said, his eyes focussed carefully on the PADD before him.
Jim’s smile widened and he reached out to load the first datacard.
Time went by and they saw neither hide nor hair of Spock. Spock3 devoured the information, enthusiastically pointing out the interesting differences between the universes; from the minor details of high-ranking Star Fleet personnel, to the major differences in Klingon infrastructure and, of course, the continued existence of Vulcan.
“I’m sorry,” Jim said, as the details of that tragic occasion were recounted. Spock3 inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“It is not my tragedy,” Spock3 said. “In my universe, Vulcan thrives; our race as strong and proud as it should be. Although I do feel it; when I reach out, even over such distance, this universe is very quiet.”
Jim opened his mouth as if to comment, but closed it almost immediately; turning to look over his shoulder toward the ship that held a lover whose troubles he couldn’t help but share. He sighed and turned to load the next data card. His hand met a cooler companion whose intention had been the same, and Spock3 threw himself back as if he’d been burned.
It was enough, though. Kirk felt the flush of lust, of need, of aching loneliness, shoot through his fingertips like an electric shock. He cringed from it, divided between the swell of answering arousal and the cold, jarring pain that was not his own. He sagged as sympathy flowed through him.
“Captain, forgive me…”
“Spock, please,” Jim interrupted. “It wasn’t just my,” he sniffed laughter, “my shamelessness that attracted you. You could feel the bond.”
“I didn’t know,” Spock3 replied. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. And it is not my bond.”
“You have the same Katra,” Kirk pointed out. “It might as well be your bond. It must be hurting you. You should have told me, I would have kept my distance.”
Spock shook his head and sniffed something that was as close to derisive laughter as the Vulcan ever came.
“Captain, I can honestly say you could leave the solar system and I would still feel the resonance of our… of your bond.” Kirk looked down, guilty. “Do not trouble yourself,” Spock3 requested. “I am quite in control.”
Kirk nodded, keeping his eyes averted as Spock, for want of something else to do, loaded the next information card.
Kirk had, for much of his life, been one of those people who found it difficult to allow silences to go on. He was too tempted to fill it with a joke or a comment or even random humming. In recent times, especially with so much of his spare time taken up by a Vulcan, he had learned to accept that some silences were there for a reason, some could be beautifully manipulated and some simply existed because there was nothing of significance to say. He let this silence draw out as comfortably as most of the quiet times he spent with his own Spock, allowing him to his research and his thoughts, while Kirk consulted his own information; read-outs from the other ship that might prove useful in their own universe.
“Pardon me, Captain,” Spock3 said gently. “This article was written by a Christopher Pike. Am I correct in inferring that this is the same Christopher Pike who serves aboard the Enterprise?”
“He did,” Kirk replied. “You know him?”
“Not in person,” Spock3 replied. “But I have heard admirable things about him.”
“You would have been good friends,” Kirk said. “And before you even think about saying it; Vulcans do have friends.” He flashed one of his most distracting smiles to cut off any potential argument. “Anyway,” he said after a moment, nodding toward the ship. “He served under Captain Pike before I came and took the wheel. They were a very effective command team.” He grinned slyly. “Not as effective as him and me,” he added with exaggerated bravado. “But…”
“But that goes without saying,” Spock3 supplied for him. Jim laughed appropriately.
“I…” Jim’s manner was momentarily awkward. “I included the official details of the Romulan altercation, in… in the hope that you might hold on to that information for a hundred years or so. Maybe if Romulus appears to be in the same difficulties, something can be done.” Kirk was very conscious of Spock3’s gaze resting on him long after he had turned away. Eventually he gave in and turned his attention back to the Vulcan. “What?”
“He killed your father,” Spock3 said, regretting the obvious twinge of pain that passed through Kirk as he looked away. “And your friends,” he added, nonetheless. “He committed genocide and your first thought is… mercy.”
Kirk shrugged.
“I wouldn’t consider myself much of a man if I punished a whole planet of innocents for the actions of one broken-hearted Romulan who hasn’t even been born yet.”
Spock3 didn’t even reply. He merely continued to stare contemplatively for a short while, then went back to focus, seemingly unseeing, on the PADD.
“Are you okay?” Jim pressed after a short while.
“This universe has no Vulcan,” Spock3 replied after a moment’s consideration. He didn’t turn to look at Kirk. “I have no position here and I suspect my family…” Kirk winced.
“I’d rather not…”
“No, of course not,” Spock3 agreed. “I know I do not belong in this reality and I should be aiding the commander in his repair efforts and yet I am… reluctant to assist. I will not be relieved to return.”
Jim opened and closed his mouth, with no comfort to offer him. Spock3 went on after a moment. “Do you suppose your bondmate would be amenable to an intellectual experiment, wherein he returned in my place for a period of time?”
Kirk smiled, in no doubt that Spock3 was joking.
“I think he might know you too well,” Kirk replied in kind.
“Indeed,” Spock3 agreed. “I would not trust another with my…” he looked up at last, meeting Kirk’s eye. “… with my destiny.”
Kirk could only muster a weak smile in response, and he failed to keep the pity out of it. The silence they fell into then was less comfortable, but still Jim did not seek to fill it for some time.
Spock3 had excellent spacial awareness, and was no doubt conscious of Kirk’s hand as it moved hesitantly toward him. Perhaps unclear as to the Captain’s intentions, he did not draw attention to the movement, even as Kirk seemed to rethink it and pulled his hand back. A beat passed before Kirk changed his mind again, and Spock3 barely had time to anticipate before the hand was returned, more confidently, and two gentle fingers came to rest along the backs of his own.
It was obvious that this time the effect was less jarring; that Spock3 had been allowed the millisecond he needed to assimilate the anticipation of contact. Nevertheless, he drew in a rapid breath, his forehead tightening in response to the sensations flooding in through his skin. Kirk didn’t move his hand, holding the contact as Spock3 relinquished his resistance and accepted the comfort that Jim couldn’t put into words.
Eventually, the Vulcan's fingers shifted beneath his own, maintaining contact while they turned, his hand twisting to bring the pads of Jim’s fingers into direct contact with his own.
Jim took that as permission; he let his fingers rest a moment, and then brought them sliding slowly down the joints, little more than a tickle progressing onto the palm of Spock3’s hand. He spared a glance to the Vulcan's face, smiling a little at the lowered eyelids, hung shoulders and faint greenish flush that betrayed his pleasure at the intimate act.
“Captain, this is not an act of friendship,” Spock3 admonished gently, although he made no move to remove his fingers.
“I know,” Kirk replied softly.
“You do this with him,” Spock3 whispered, not really a question, his voice husky and low. “Even though it offers you no stimulation?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Kirk said with a smile, his voice still gentle. “I may not feel it in quite the way you do, but I feel it.”
“Then you know we should, perhaps, desist,” Spock3 offered with no real conviction.
Jim didn’t reply. Instead he brought his thumb up to rest against a wrist where green blood pulsed furiously beneath the surface. The tip of his middle finger drew concentric circles around the soft, sensitive hollow of Spock3’s palm.
Spock3 seemed to melt, his whole body visibly relaxing into the stimulating touch. His desire to maintain integrity and not overstep the boundaries of which he was now aware was failing utterly.
“It’s fine,” Kirk said. “He says it’s fine.”
Spock3 might have had more to add, but he was cut off by the feeling of Kirk’s lips on his jaw. He tilted his head, arching into the touch and letting out a grateful sound that was most uncharacteristic of his species. A movement caught Spock3’s eye and, if he had been able, he would surely have pushed his captain away. Instead, he lifted his hand to Kirk’s head and screwed his fingers into dusky blonde hair.
Kirk moved back, drawing his mouth away.
“If you don’t want this, please just say no.”
Spock3 sighed, as yet unable to remove his hand.
“Your bondmate is…”
“Quite at ease with this situation,” Spock supplied, approaching from his vantage point at the steps of the glittering silver ship. “It is illogical to harbour jealousy toward myself.”
He knelt behind Jim and laid a hand on his back. Without a word or motion of encouragement, Kirk turned and leaned back over his own shoulder, taking Spock’s mouth in a familiar, deep and intimate kiss. Spock3 looked on, mouth slightly open with something approaching amazement at observing what he would look like, kissing his soulmate.
Still, Kirk’s fingers moved against his palm, stimulating exquisitely and transferring tendrils of confidence and satisfaction from them both.
They broke apart, maintaining eye contact as Kirk’s body language, quirks and the fine connection between them asked a silent question. With his answer received, he pressed his forehead to Spock’s for a second, before peeling back and descending upon their new friend.
“Any time you want to stop,” Kirk said, his mouth a centimetre from Spock3’s. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I do not,” Spock3 replied.
The corner of Kirk’s mouth quirked in a smile.
“Good,” he whispered. Then he caught Spock3’s lower lip between his teeth and any lingering resistance ebbed away, along with his attempts to stay sitting upright. Kirk pressed him backwards, encouraging Spock3’s mouth to open and sliding his tongue into the Vulcan's mouth. When they had previously been together, some hours ago, the rush had been so intense, so confusing and overwhelming; Spock3 hadn’t stopped to look at it directly. Now he understood the unrelenting pull that had robbed him of his resistance, he wrapped himself in it. He pressed, delving carefully into the shallows of Kirk’s mind. But he was delicate, careful not to try and force himself too far and bring any confusion to a bond that he was increasingly tempted to forget was not his own.
Jim smiled, evidently finding it fascinating, how the tentative pressure in his mind could be so familiar and yet so subtly different, so uncertain. Spock knew Jim’s mind, knew the limits of how much intrusion he would be permitted and knew where to push to send his senses reeling. With the bond in place, they didn’t need to meld fully to feel one another’s thoughts, but this Spock was still limited. Spock3 could not have reached that deeply into Jim’s mind even if he had not been restraining himself, but he was able to explore the shallows.
Spock3 closed his eyes and relaxed back into the soft, silvery reeds; his hands framing Jim’s waist as he helped the human into a comfortable position over him. His fingertips found a sliver of naked skin where Jim’s shirt met his waistband and that was temptation enough. Spock3 gathered up a handful of Kirk’s shirt and pulled, dragging the fabric up and pulling them out of the kiss to remove it altogether.
A more familiar touch came at Kirk’s back; a kiss that he had grown to know better than any other. The lips at the base of his neck brought with them soft comfort, further, wordless commitment to their current pursuit. Spock3, half-sitting in the arch of Kirk’s thighs, met his own gaze across Jim’s pale shoulder. Spock’s lips pressed harder against his shoulder and Spock3 couldn’t help but squeeze, just a little.
“Hey boys, if you’re just going to stare at each other, I can just sit this one out,” Kirk said, snapping both sets of attention back to him. Spock3 tightened his brow.
“No, captain, I did not…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jim said, leaning both hands on Spock3’s chest.
“Worry is…” Kirk leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth, interrupting him. “A human emotion,” he finished, a moment later when he was released.
“So is arousal,” Kirk pointed out, then pressed his lips to the end of Spock3’s chin, following a path down his neck while his fingers busied themselves defeating the silent zip that ran down the front of his jumpsuit and pushing it back off his shoulders.
“You need not limit yourself,” Spock told his supine reflection. “We will not judge you and there is little you can conceal from us. Try and relax,” he proposed.
Spock3 let his head slip back, his breathing slowing as Kirk drew his attention with an open mouth to his neck. Kirk had a sort of unfair advantage, to know what should physically stimulate a new partner. Of course, it was possible that the other Spock would be different; he wouldn’t respond in the same way. He wouldn’t necessarily have taken pleasure in the feeling of Jim’s mouth fastening tightly around his nipple, teeth scratching gently across the very tip. But when Jim tried it anyway, the arching of Spock3’s spine and the sweet moan he received in response suggested his current knowledge would be adequate.
To say that it was a curious sensation was quite the understatement; Spock3 was used to being alone in his own mind; rarely touching others any more than necessary. The only person he ever allowed to touch him for long was his mother (and how he wished he hadn’t thought of her at a time like this). With her, he could hide beneath the pretence of tolerance, the reality of how much he relished the wealth of emotions that surrounded him when their skin was in contact. He embraced the comfort, pride and so much unconditional love; the knowledge that there was nothing she would not do for him, no matter how illogical. Others he kept at a literal arm’s length, putting them off with his cold demeanour or quickly educating them in how Vulcans did not welcome prolonged contact. He did not want their thoughts or their feelings, any more than he wished to risk offering his own for their perusal; their judgement.
Now, though, he felt strangely as though he would like to dive into the very heart of James Kirk; to search out every sensation, thought and fluttering, transient emotion that whispered beneath his skin and through his veins. Likewise, his guard was shattered around feet; welcoming the intrusion and silently pleading for the man to read him, to see him most intimately and judge him adequate.
He could almost allow himself to believe, too, that the comfortable, familiar love emanating from Jim in regular beats was for him, were it not for the echo of himself behind it all. That was, perhaps, the strangest feeling of all; the faint refection of himself and not himself, lurking in the background of his bondmate; like a mouse in a hall of mirrors.
He found he didn’t mind it, so much, while the captain’s attentions were so firmly attached to him. It was his skin pattered with constant kisses, his clothes removed with expert fingertips, his hips pleasantly bruised by the captain’s open-mouth.
Pon Farr descended first in the early stages of adulthood, but the Vulcans weren’t so restrictive on their youths that they forced them into marriage at the first adolescent onset. Their marriages were arranged, but they were positively encouraged to spend their maturing years in development of their own pursuits, uninhibited by familial responsibility. Which was to say that Spock3 was not a virgin. He had had partners, with all the emotional and philosophical transference that was inevitable of full-body naked contact. And yet, no partner had delivered such fascinating intricacies of thought with the simple press of lips to skin.
Kirk pulled back and stared at him; his expression full of fond exasperation. It did not take the enviable, intricate bond that the other Spock was fortunate enough to share with him to read the instruction in the human’s manner.
Stop fucking over-thinking everything, it said. Pay attention to the man on his knees.
And he did. His mind flushed empty of the countless arguments that constantly raged and all that remained was the here and now, bright blue gems glittering with amusement and promise and full, smiling lips wrapping themselves around the head of his cock.
Nothing could have grounded the Vulcan more effectively to reality. Kirk’s mouth was all the things it should have been; hot and wet and accommodating, yet tight in precisely the right places, at the right times. This was an act of which Spock3 had far less experience; it wasn’t a particularly logical act, even for sex that was not intended for procreation, being one that brought pleasure to only one partner. Except that through the touch of his fingers, lips and all, Kirk’s delight in the act was radiant.
It was obvious that here was a man who revelled in challenging himself, something of which Spock3 was happy to be the subject when it involved Jim pushing himself, seeing how far down he could swallow the engorged, green-tinged flesh. Spock3 lifted his hands back to Kirk’s hair, delighting in the softness as it threaded through his fingers and trying to resist the temptation to twist his fingers inward, hold him still and lift his hips to fuck into the talented mouth.
He resisted, resting back against the supportive hillock of hay and letting his hands rest gently on Kirk’s head as the human dictated his own, more than acceptable pace. The captain did not leave him wanting. It crossed the Vulcan's mind to wonder if he might be allowed to climax just like this, with no reciprocation whatsoever. It seemed altogether too selfish and yet, this strange, beautiful man had apparently been designed to bring him nothing but confusing, spectacular pleasure.
And to laugh at the most peculiar of moments. Kirk pulled back from lavishing attention on Spock3’s sensitive flesh and turned to look at his own Vulcan, who had, apparently, been absent for a time.
“I’m sure it’s a terrific view, but if you’re about to suggest we start making recordings of ourselves…” he paused, considering the prospect, as Spock3 pushed himself up to sitting. “We’ll talk about it later,” Kirk concluded. Spock3 reached out to him, his fingers curling around the captain’s shoulder.
“Jim,” he whispered, with no certain idea where the rest of the sentence was headed.
Kirk smiled again; that sweet, familiar smile that promised so much and seemed to cloud a secret that only Jim himself knew. A private joke, perhaps. But, unless James Kirk was a master at hiding his true feelings, there was certainly nothing untoward in his intentions as he tilted Spock3’s chin up and secured his lips in a soft, deep kiss.
Spock3 could have lived in those kisses forever, when he finally found control over his hands and brought them up to connect with Kirk’s skin. His fingers made pass after pass over Kirk’s chest and sides, spreading wide over the warm, firm surface. The captain hummed in appreciation as Spock3’s fingers spread, reaching out to brush his nipples, almost teasingly. Kirk grinned against his mouth and moved back to pull at the lower half of his jumpsuit where it was sitting low around the Vulcan’s hips. Spock3 was determined not to be passive in the face of such glorious, golden confidence, and held him back as he went to move back over his prey.
Kirk looked at him with hooded eyes, waiting patiently for whatever he had planned. Kirk licked his lips, his cheeks attractively pink with arousal, lips pursing as Spock3’s hands slipped down the back of his stretchy, forgiving leggings, thumbs catching on the outside to pull them lower. Kirk helped him, shifting in order to free himself. It left them kneeling face-to-face, before Spock3 dropped to sitting, his eyes dropping to the enticing hardness presented to him. He wrapped his hand around it reverentially, lip twitching in something approaching a smile at the appreciative moan his captain let out. He pushed himself forward, the inside of his knees brushing the outside of Kirk’s, and he pressed a kiss to his sternum as he stroked. Kirk’s hand came down to squeeze his shoulder, and then lifted to his neck, tilting his head back and to one side so he could bend to bring their lips together.
“Do you want me?” Kirk whispered against his lips. “Inside…”
Spock3 wasn’t surprised how quickly he answered, “Yes.”
Spock3 found himself on his back again, with Kirk’s gentle encouragement, a persuasive hand to his stomach moving to push his legs apart. Despite the urgency of his own desire, the human took his time in preparing Spock3, fingers pressing into him, stretching him wider, kissing him in the most intimate, debauched way. Eventually, when Spock3 was arching up against him, robbed of restraint by the wealth of unfamiliar sensations and wordlessly begging to be made complete, Kirk brought his cock to the edge of Spock3’s body and pressed inward. Kirk’s erection was slick, but Spock3 only gave a fraction of a second’s thought to how that had come to be.
Spock3 was, indeed, not a virgin, but he had never been penetrated in this way. He was prepared for pain and prepared to put it to one side. He was surprised at how little the pinch of discomfort mattered in reality. He struggled to keep his eyes open, resisting the temptation to give in and lose himself in the feeling of possession. Kirk thrust into him with admirable self-restraint, letting him get used to the intrusion. It was more than Spock3 needed and he endeavoured to tell Jim so, making an uncharacteristic mess of his words as he tried to express himself, and managing to formulate little more than ‘please’ and ‘more’.
Kirk obliged, and for minute after minute they moved in an increasingly complimentary rhythm, Kirk’s knowledge of his own Vulcan proving highly effective in pleasing this less familiar creature.
Unexpectedly, after time that Spock3 couldn’t begin to estimate, Kirk stuttered and slowed, almost coming to a halt. Spock3 couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of the disappointed noise he made.
“My apologies,” he heard his own voice saying. “I can no longer be restrained.”
“I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long,” Kirk replied, directing the words half-over his own shoulder. It was a testament to his confused state of mind that Spock3 was only dimly aware that he was not the one to have spoken.
“Have you ever doubted my stamina before?” Spock asked, pressing a kiss to the back of Kirk’s neck. Kirk sniffed laughter and leaned down to pay attention to his new friend once more, thrusting his hips shallowly as they kissed. Kirk’s whole body tensed, lips going still and stiff against Spock3’s for a very long couple of seconds, before he softened, breathing out across Spock3’s mouth. Spock3 forced himself into a greater level of consciousness; keen to appreciate what had changed. He met his own gaze and reproached himself for having forgotten that his doppelganger was even present. He, too, could not quite fathom the other Vulcan’s restraint and did not blame him in the slightest for now seeking to sate his own desires by pushing into Jim, his Jim, while the captain was still buried in Spock3. At least that solved the question of where the slickness had come from. He hoped he would be such a thoughtful bondmate. It wasn’t vanity to assume he would be.
“Oh, now this is weird,” Jim whispered, not sounding discomforted by the sensation, no matter how odd it may have been. His fingers tensed and relaxed spasmodically against Spock3’s shoulder and hip, before he carefully resumed his movements.
Kirk eased Spock3’s thighs wider, lifting his knees so they sat against the curve of Jim’s hips. The movements were slower, now, less within Kirk’s control, but deeper, each forward thrust bringing his hips flush against Spock3’s and holding him deep inside. A beat would pass and then the reverse would let Spock3 breathe again. He pushed himself up on an elbow and the angle was inadvertently exquisite. His breath hitched, his mirror image echoed him and James Kirk hissed loud enough to make up for both of their restraint.
Even with no stimulation directly on his cock, he knew he was climbing closer to climax and he reached out instinctively, his fingers a hair’s breadth from falling against the skin of Kirk’s face when a hand of equal strength to his own stopped them.
Spock was not going to allow him to meld with Kirk, and rightly so, but in his eagerness to intercept the attempt, he had not considered the potential effects of touching himself. Where their hands met, thoughts flooded through, seamlessly moulding into one another. They were one and the same, each knowing every part of the other; their every thought and sensation.
In that one moment Spock3 felt it all; how it felt to be fully bonded, to be complete in a way he had not previously known he was lacking. He felt the serenity it brought, along with the undeniable fear, ever-present, that Jim (so impetuous, so exquisitely imperfect, so fragile) could be lost to him without warning. And, more immediately, he knew how it felt to be buried in the brilliance of heat and simultaneously penetrated by that same exquisite body.
It was overwhelming. The fingers at his wrist tightened and, with an almost-human cry of joy, ecstasy took him.
#
When he woke, he was surprised to realise that he had even been asleep. The last thing he remembered was the weight of James Kirk falling into his arms, heavy and heaving, scalding hot against him. He remembered lazy kisses and golden, sleepy comfort. And then nothing but clouds until this moment.
They were where they had been, still in the hangar on the soft silver hay. Somebody had procured them a few blankets, for modesty more than comfort as the atmosphere was pleasantly warm, and a glance at his surroundings, namely the absence of his twin, suggested from where they had come.
What remained, though, was much more interesting. Beside him, 16 centimetres away at their closest point, James Kirk slumbered peacefully, his lips curved into a slightly self-satisfied smile.
“This is the strangest experience of my life,” Spock3 whispered to nobody, reaching out to brush a blonde lock from Jim’s temple.
He heard, or felt, perhaps, a gentle prompt, and looked up toward his ship, where the other Vulcan stood awaiting him, his manner unreadable, even to himself. Spock inclined his head slightly and Spock3 took the implication, nodding his acceptance and extricating himself from their makeshift bed. He pulled his jumpsuit back on, careful not to wake the human, and made his way to the ship.
Spock had abandoned the doorway and was reviewing a panel on the console.
“I believe you will find all the components are now functional,” he said casually as Spock3 stepped into the room. He was not certain of how his own posture came across, but he was confident that he was, as a rule, stiffer than this bonded Vulcan. Not for the first time, he wondered how much of his human side he could suffer to express. Perhaps being bonded to a human was the permission his humanity needed to release. Spock looked... comfortable. “I trust you will want to verify my calculations; I have only been able to work based on my observations. This being your work, I advise complete review of my adjustments.”
“Indeed,” Spock3 replied, aware that there was no need to pad the other Vulcan’s ego; such things could not be left to chance and there was no substitute for experience. “I will perform thorough checks. May I express my gratitude for your efforts?”
“No gratitude is necessary,” Spock replied, not unkindly. “It is for the best that you are missing for as little time as possible. We do not know the long-term ramifications of your presence here, nor your absence from your own universe.”
And that, although not a lie, was transparent to both of them.
“I took the liberty of verifying your database with a number of basic searches,” Spock went on. “They were satisfactory in locating the requested star charts and federation personnel within 3.4 seconds of query submission.” Spock3 nodded, unsure as to the relevance of the action, given that his database had not been affected by the crash. “For your reference, I have made a record of the results on the main drive of your computer, under data file JTK.”
Spock3 stepped past him to a wall panel, pulling up the referenced file for review.
“Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Aboard the USS Republic,” Spock agreed. “Already highly regarded within Star Fleet, if he continues on his current course he is likely to achieve the title of Captain at a younger age than any previous officer.”
“An exceptional young man,” Spock3 suggested, his eyes fixed on the screen.
“In every universe of which I have experience,” Spock agreed.
Spock3 hesitated.
“I cannot even begin to formulate a plan by which I can even manoeuvre myself into his company,” he thought aloud. “Even if I were to bring myself into a position to begin such a pursuit, I have no reason to believe my attentions would be welcome. He may be a very different man.”
“I can offer you no guarantees,” Spock said in something approaching sympathy. “But it might help you to know that the first time I met James Kirk, I had him up on disciplinary charges. I invoked the name of his dead father to mock him. Shortly after, I rendered him unconscious and exiled him to an ice planet and the next time we met, I hit him repeatedly and choked him until he came close to suffocation.”
Spock3 could not help but look shocked and Spock had the decency to look a little ashamed.
“And yet, he loves you?” Spock3 suggested. “Is Star Fleet aware of this worrying proclivity for masochism?”
Spock narrowed his eyes, clearly fighting amusement.
“While I would not recommend this course as an appropriate method of courtship, the message is that James Kirk is a most forgiving creature, and that perseverance is key.”
“Fascinating.”
“In addition,” Spock went on, a touch awkwardly. “Do not judge yourself too harshly. I can say without ego that you can bring him as much joy and success as he brings to you. You should not deny yourself the revelation of all that you can accomplish together.” Spock’s lip twitched, akin to a face-splitting grin as he took great pleasure passing on the most precious knowledge.
“You imply that this is destiny; he and I will always find one another. And yet, without this highly improbable series of events, culminating in the influence of an external factor to which I should never logically have been exposed, I would never have sought him out. Are you suggesting that the fates might have conspired in some other way to bring us together?”
“I have yet to form a conclusive opinion as regards the existence of predestination. However, if one were to argue in its favour, then your point is moot. The reality is, you are here. Fate, if there is such a thing, has already intervened.” Spock3 nodded slowly, not looking wholly convinced. “You can consider the temporal ramifications at your leisure,” Spock said. “Perhaps on your journey back.”
Spock3 nodded.
“I should make ready to leave,” he agreed, hesitating and looking over toward the door. He turned his attention to the ship, ostensibly checking Spock’s work but his attention still quite obviously drawn toward the absent member of their party.
“I understand your reticence,” Spock said after a short period of silence. “But delaying your departure will not make the inevitable any less difficult to endure.”
“I am aware of that,” he replied. “I was contemplating whether to say goodbye.” The idea of it ached even more than the loss itself. “Perhaps... you could extend my farewell for me.”
“With pleasure,” Spock said kindly. “I believe I will be able to communicate that which you would have him know.” Spock3 nodded.
“Thank you, for all that you have done for me,” he said. “I can never repay...”
“The best reward either of us could ask is for you to leave us, now, and find your own destiny. For all our best interests.”
“I would remark upon the illogic of your jealousy,” Spock3 observed. “But I already understand it.”
Spock nodded, far from insulted, and turned to depart.
“On the subject of jealousy,” he considered before he reached the door. “One last thing. James Kirk can be a fearsomely jealous creature, when he chooses. I would suggest making contact with T’Pring and severing your obligation to her at the earliest opportunity. The consequences of his being unprepared could prove... exothermic. And his punishments are as intolerable as they are devious.”
“I have an interesting path ahead of me,” Spock3 surmised. “I look forward to it.”
“Good luck,” Spock said with a nod, lifting his hand into a familiar salute.
“Live long and prosper,” he replied, mirroring the gesture.
#
Kirk woke to the feeling of strong fingers tracing the contours of his face in gentle, methodical exploration.
“Hey,” he said sleepily, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Well, that was wild.”
“It was certainly a unique experience,” Spock conceded, his eyes flickering over Jim’s face but never quite meeting his eyes.
“Not with the rate you keep turning up,” Kirk joked. “This could end up being a regular event!” Spock’s fingers tightened at the side of his face, curling into his hair and Kirk’s smile faded. “We’re fine, right?” he asked carefully.
“We are,” Spock confirmed, sliding down to lie beside him. “The only feeling I harbour toward him is hope. And perhaps a touch of envy,” he confessed. Kirk looked at him quizzically, turning his face into Spock’s palm and catching his thumb with the soft pads of his lips. “He has the rare pleasure of finding you, now, of pursuing you and learning...” he trailed off as Jim sucked Spock’s thumb between his lips, flicking his tongue across the surface. “I withdraw that remark,” Spock said immediately, narrowing his eyes at Kirk’s lowered, softened gaze.
“He will do fine,” Jim said confidently, releasing Spock’s thumb and pressing kisses to the pad of his hand. “If Jim Kirk is not an idiot, Jim Kirk will love him. And Jim Kirk is never an idiot.”
Spock gave him a pointed look that was in no way insubordinate but also managed to tease him rather exquisitely. Jim fetched him a slap to his shoulder, and would have challenged him further, but for the interruption of the hangar doors sliding open. Kirk turned over, looking back over his shoulder to watch the nearly silent ship lifting up and moving slowly toward the open doors.
“I suppose there might be a universe where I’m an idiot,” he considered, rolling onto his front and resting over Spock’s fully-clothed chest.
“We should return to the ship,” Spock pointed out.
“Or where I’m a stickler for the rules and you’re always breaking them,” Jim went on as if he hadn’t heard the remark. The ship began to move directly upward as it cleared the doors that started to close behind him. “Maybe there’s a universe where we’re evil. Or, cats,” he said suddenly. “We could have evolved from cats.”
Spock sighed, knowing he was allowed to do so, and silently let Jim go on suggesting theories. On the edge of his hearing, beyond what his bondmate could possibly have detected, he listened to the unique, hollow sound of a hole being torn in the space-time continuum.
“Indeed, Jim,” he acknowledged. “Anything is possible.”
The End.
Author: lady_razzle
Pairing: Spock/Kirk, Spock/Kirk/Spock (not Spockprime) (Implied Spockprime/Kirkprime)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Like moths drawn irresistibly toward the light, there is something about James T Kirk that seems to attract Spocks. It's not his fault.
A/N: Betad by albion_lass (<333) Threesome fic that grew a plot when I wasn't looking.
Surprisingly few people spared the Vulcan a second glance as he made his way down the main street of the town. The planet was not quite a hub of intergalactic activity but what it lacked in entertainment, it made up for in advantageous location and scientific potential. Vulcans were, therefore, not infrequent visitors.
If, on the other hand, any of them had been acquainted with this particular Vulcan, he would have attracted second and third glances, whispered questions and a wide berth. The faint lines of tension, the colour in his cheeks and the barely-detectable stutter in his determined step belied the tempest of his rage to only the keenest or most familiar observer. Beneath his near-perfect exterior, fury had roiled inside him since the moment Jim’s emotions had begun to flood into him some minutes ago.
At first, separated by the distance between the planet and the ship, the emotions had been dulled; just a shaky impression of arousal which was, while mildly distracting and faintly irritating, a not uncommon emotion to receive across their bond. As flawlessly faithful to his bondmate as he was, Captain Kirk was nothing if not easily stimulated. It meant nothing, and Vulcans did not get jealous.
After a few minutes of low-level arousal, though, the feeling had escalated from ‘Jim is watching a semi-naked girl dancing’ to ‘Jim is in the proximity of somebody he finds almost irresistibly attractive’. Then he felt a scalding bowlful of intense, intimate excitement sluicing into his gut as acutely as if it were Spock’s own neck being assaulted with welcome kisses.
That was the precise moment at which Commander Spock had spat an instruction for Sulu to take the comm, abandoned the bridge and, with a very quick stop at the armoury, beamed down to the planet.
It didn’t take him long to find his captain, holed up in the villa-like guest quarters to which the landing party had been assigned for the duration of what was to be a short visit; combining a regular diplomatic check-up with the chance to investigate a reported spacial anomaly nearby. The Vulcan knew where his Captain should have been staying, but he wouldn’t have needed it; Jim’s inflamed sexuality was an emotional lighthouse.
Yet still, to all appearances, Spock seemed the picture of restraint, right up until he kicked the hinges off the Captain’s door.
Said Captain was pinned to the opposite wall by a tall, decidedly male figure. His legs were spread wide, one ankle hooked around his attacker’s calf and his head rolling back as his neck (a famous erogenous zone) was mauled.
Spock’s heart cracked down the centre as he saw Jim, his Jim, hiss encouragement and screw his fingertips into this stranger's jet-black hair. They were so engrossed in one another that they didn’t even stop to acknowledge Spock’s dramatic entrance.
“Remove yourself from my bondmate or I will shoot you where you stand,” Spock said, as casually as if he were ordering an Ensign to the bridge.
Jim’s eyes flashed open, but it was pure shock, not guilt, which saw him shoving his partner away, Spock’s own name a curse on his lips.
“Fuck, Spock!” Jim exclaimed. “What the hell?”
Spock was, suddenly, rather inclined to agree with him, as he lifted his weapon and kept it trained on the interloper.
“I believe this new information has brought me to several conclusions,” the stranger intoned levelly in a familiar voice.
“Spock, I…” Kirk started, his eyes wide and his lips red, swollen with welcomed abuse.
“I am relieved to see you were not consciously being unfaithful, Jim,” Spock said, with barely a glance in his direction. Too long an exposure to the sight of his lover, ravaged by another, would only inflame his fury further. He addressed the stranger. “Who are you, and why have you taken it upon yourself to assume my identity?”
Eyes that were the mirror of his own dulled slightly in what one familiar with Spock might recognise as disappointment.
“Please accept my apologies,” the second Spock said, his hands linking together behind his back. “I can offer a comprehensive explanation, although it is entirely possible that you will find it quite difficult to believe.”
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’d sure like to hear it,” Jim said, rubbing his mouth absently.
“I am not masquerading as you,” the new Vulcan stated. “I believe I am you.”
This clearly did not achieve quite the anticipated level of shock. Jim looked between the two and Spock lowered his phaser infinitesimally. Kirk sagged.
“Terrific,” he said sarcastically. “When are you from?”
The new Spock rallied well, letting only a touch of his own confusion infiltrate his manner.
“It is less a case of when and more a case of where,” he explained. “Although the specific vocabulary pertaining to fifth dimensional physics makes it difficult to offer a completely accurate explanation of my origin’s proximity.”
Spock tilted his head and lowered his phaser.
“Fascinating.”
Eventually, Spock calmed enough to agree that they could all sit, although he kept the phaser to hand, out of snatching reach and angled toward the interloper. As they descended into three seats that surrounded a small table (all just a little too short for full-grown humanoids, but tolerable), Spock reached out and casually dragged Jim’s chair a foot closer to his own, silencing any potential indignation with a pointed look. The newest addition to Kirk’s Spock collection looked for permission, then began to explain.
He talked about an experimental craft; one designed to detect and analyse space-time anomalies. Spock had left the mother ship in order to pilot the short-range, solo craft near to the quite lifeless planet on which they now stood, when he had detected an anomaly that was precisely of the appropriate kind. The signals were so interesting that, despite his plan to the contrary, he had switched on an untested piece of equipment designed to bounce shockwaves into the anomaly and monitor the resulting distortions.
In an instant, every instrument had exceeded the maximum readouts and the barely-visible fluctuations in the fabric of space-time had split open the blackness of space and dragged him irresistibly inward.
When he emerged, it was over a planet that showed very clear signs of life. He landed his largely undamaged ship and went searching for assistance.
It wasn’t a huge leap of logic; he swiftly worked out what had occurred and where he had ended up: A universe that was different but equal and parallel to his own. It was simultaneously a fascinating and problematic prospect. While it was thrilling from a scientific perspective, he was conscious of the large crack in the housing of the new resonator and the receiver had been split in two. He had the prospect of a whole new universe to explore, but no way to get back without assistance.
That had been the previous day and the very anomaly that had caught the attention of the Enterprise. Spock had detected the arrival of a Federation ship while attempting repairs to his own vehicle and planned to attempt contact the following day and request assistance.
“I don’t know how much help we can be,” Captain Kirk interjected. “Star Fleet doesn’t have technology of that calibre in this universe.”
“No, I imagine they do not, given that as a member of Star Fleet, you have not had chance to create it,” Spock3, as Kirk was coming to think of him, told his own Spock. (He already had a Spock2 who should, by order of age and rank, be the primary Spock and therefore Spock1, but he’d be damned if he considered any Spock before his own, no matter how much affection he felt for the ambassador.)
“Fascinating,” Spock replied. “You are not with Star Fleet.”
“No, indeed,” Spock3 confirmed. “I was admitted to the Vulcan Science Academy.”
Kirk flashed Spock a curious look.
“An invitation I declined,” Spock said with, perhaps, just a touch of defended pride. “Apparently that would be where our lives, at least, diverged.”
“Indeed,” Spock3 agreed. “A most interesting development.”
“Okay, okay,” Jim interjected, lifting a hand to interrupt. “I get it, it’s mind blowing, but if you aren’t in Star Fleet, how do you know me?”
“Captain Kirk,” Spock3 said, something just a little awkward in his manner. “I do not know you. I had never seen you before tonight.”
“But… I jumped you,” Jim pointed out incredulously. “I didn’t even speak to you.” Spock shot him a look and at least Kirk had the decency to look a little ashamed. “I thought you’d come to surprise me,” he admitted. “And you look really good in green,” he added, very obviously not looking at the second Vulcan as he sat, still resplendent in his bottle-green jumpsuit. Spock, however, did turn to look at him.
“It did not occur to you to question the motives of a complete stranger who attempts to seduce you without a single word?” he prompted.
“I was most certainly taken aback,” Spock3 confessed. “But the captain came across as being a character of… less than strict virtue.”
Jim smirked a little.
“Did you just call me slutty?”
“I believe that may be an appropriate interpretation of my first impression,” Spock3 agreed. “Through conversation with a native, I had recently discovered the fate of Vulcan in this reality and I would say… I believe I have been…”
“Emotionally compromised,” Spock supplied.
“Vulnerable enough to accept offered physical comfort,” Kirk concluded. Both Spocks nodded minutely.
“I had no intention of interfering with any bonds,” Spock3 said with a hint of regret.
“Well, there was no harm done,” Jim said, as brightly as he could manage. “Was there?” he considered, a tad more seriously, turning to Spock for confirmation.
“No damage was done to our bond,” he confirmed. “And I do not consider that we have suffered any transgression. As long as you are not offended at my considering the possibility that you were being unfaithful, then we have no cause for concern.”
“Excellent,” Spock3 said.
“And he is not ‘slutty’,” Spock said levelly.
~*~
They had an hour or two until local curfew would limit them to the planet’s surface. In the meantime, Spock3 took them to his ship, so Spock could get a feel for the technology and possibly suggest some way in which they could modify some of the Enterprise’s equipment to work in the Vulcan ship.
And that was the last Kirk was to see of his lover for some time. He was instantly enthralled, fascinated to an extent that saw Jim witness the Vulcan equivalent of bouncing off the walls and pointing at shiny things. Jim smiled to see his lover’s special brand of fiercely-restrained glee.
Kirk followed them on the grand tour for a while, until the conversation slid from generalities to that which was comprehensible to the layman and finally past what could be considered interesting even to somebody of Captain Kirk’s extraordinary intellect and curiosity.
Eventually, when the details were so intricate they could only be enjoyed by any number of Spocks, Jim gave up and made his way back out of the ship, into the glorified barn that was acting as a hangar.
It was, perhaps, twenty minutes before either Spock emerged. Jim was surprised at how easy it was to know which Spock was approaching without looking directly at him.
“Is he blinded by science?” Jim asked fondly. “I swear, sometimes he’ll get hard for an equation quicker than he would for me.”
“I do not believe I require any more of your acquaintance to conclude that that statement is quite inaccurate,” Spock3 replied.
Jim threw his head back and breathed a gulp of laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s a lie. But he does have a serious bone for this sort of thing,” he concluded.
“I can assure you,” Spock3 said, “if he is as like me as he appears, he is unlikely to experience substantial sexual arousal as a result of mathematical constructs.”
Jim smiled at him, having caught the substantial in the sentence, and cut his eyes at his new old friend, checking for the slight tense twitch that signalled the tease, the resistance to smile. Kirk snorted laughter again.
“Come here,” he said. “I have something for you.”
Spock3 raised an eyebrow and lowered himself to sit on the pile of rushes beside the captain. The reeds that covered the floor of the barn looked a lot like straw, but it was considerably softer and a peculiar silver colour. It was, Jim had discovered, quite comfortable.
“I took the liberty of having the ship beam down a few data files,” Kirk said. “Nothing too specific, no Federation secrets,” he grinned. “But I thought you might appreciate some information on the current arrangement of the universe. I mean, with the way he’s going at the moment, we’ll be here all night. I thought, if you had time, you could make a comparison. Even if you were planning on sticking around for a while, it’s a place to start, right?”
“Thank you,” Spock3 said earnestly. “This will be most interesting. And… it is very thoughtful of you.”
Jim smiled.
“Well, I’m a thoughtful kind of guy,” he said playfully.
“Conversely, I have ample evidence for the accuracy of that statement,” Spock said, his eyes focussed carefully on the PADD before him.
Jim’s smile widened and he reached out to load the first datacard.
Time went by and they saw neither hide nor hair of Spock. Spock3 devoured the information, enthusiastically pointing out the interesting differences between the universes; from the minor details of high-ranking Star Fleet personnel, to the major differences in Klingon infrastructure and, of course, the continued existence of Vulcan.
“I’m sorry,” Jim said, as the details of that tragic occasion were recounted. Spock3 inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“It is not my tragedy,” Spock3 said. “In my universe, Vulcan thrives; our race as strong and proud as it should be. Although I do feel it; when I reach out, even over such distance, this universe is very quiet.”
Jim opened his mouth as if to comment, but closed it almost immediately; turning to look over his shoulder toward the ship that held a lover whose troubles he couldn’t help but share. He sighed and turned to load the next data card. His hand met a cooler companion whose intention had been the same, and Spock3 threw himself back as if he’d been burned.
It was enough, though. Kirk felt the flush of lust, of need, of aching loneliness, shoot through his fingertips like an electric shock. He cringed from it, divided between the swell of answering arousal and the cold, jarring pain that was not his own. He sagged as sympathy flowed through him.
“Captain, forgive me…”
“Spock, please,” Jim interrupted. “It wasn’t just my,” he sniffed laughter, “my shamelessness that attracted you. You could feel the bond.”
“I didn’t know,” Spock3 replied. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. And it is not my bond.”
“You have the same Katra,” Kirk pointed out. “It might as well be your bond. It must be hurting you. You should have told me, I would have kept my distance.”
Spock shook his head and sniffed something that was as close to derisive laughter as the Vulcan ever came.
“Captain, I can honestly say you could leave the solar system and I would still feel the resonance of our… of your bond.” Kirk looked down, guilty. “Do not trouble yourself,” Spock3 requested. “I am quite in control.”
Kirk nodded, keeping his eyes averted as Spock, for want of something else to do, loaded the next information card.
Kirk had, for much of his life, been one of those people who found it difficult to allow silences to go on. He was too tempted to fill it with a joke or a comment or even random humming. In recent times, especially with so much of his spare time taken up by a Vulcan, he had learned to accept that some silences were there for a reason, some could be beautifully manipulated and some simply existed because there was nothing of significance to say. He let this silence draw out as comfortably as most of the quiet times he spent with his own Spock, allowing him to his research and his thoughts, while Kirk consulted his own information; read-outs from the other ship that might prove useful in their own universe.
“Pardon me, Captain,” Spock3 said gently. “This article was written by a Christopher Pike. Am I correct in inferring that this is the same Christopher Pike who serves aboard the Enterprise?”
“He did,” Kirk replied. “You know him?”
“Not in person,” Spock3 replied. “But I have heard admirable things about him.”
“You would have been good friends,” Kirk said. “And before you even think about saying it; Vulcans do have friends.” He flashed one of his most distracting smiles to cut off any potential argument. “Anyway,” he said after a moment, nodding toward the ship. “He served under Captain Pike before I came and took the wheel. They were a very effective command team.” He grinned slyly. “Not as effective as him and me,” he added with exaggerated bravado. “But…”
“But that goes without saying,” Spock3 supplied for him. Jim laughed appropriately.
“I…” Jim’s manner was momentarily awkward. “I included the official details of the Romulan altercation, in… in the hope that you might hold on to that information for a hundred years or so. Maybe if Romulus appears to be in the same difficulties, something can be done.” Kirk was very conscious of Spock3’s gaze resting on him long after he had turned away. Eventually he gave in and turned his attention back to the Vulcan. “What?”
“He killed your father,” Spock3 said, regretting the obvious twinge of pain that passed through Kirk as he looked away. “And your friends,” he added, nonetheless. “He committed genocide and your first thought is… mercy.”
Kirk shrugged.
“I wouldn’t consider myself much of a man if I punished a whole planet of innocents for the actions of one broken-hearted Romulan who hasn’t even been born yet.”
Spock3 didn’t even reply. He merely continued to stare contemplatively for a short while, then went back to focus, seemingly unseeing, on the PADD.
“Are you okay?” Jim pressed after a short while.
“This universe has no Vulcan,” Spock3 replied after a moment’s consideration. He didn’t turn to look at Kirk. “I have no position here and I suspect my family…” Kirk winced.
“I’d rather not…”
“No, of course not,” Spock3 agreed. “I know I do not belong in this reality and I should be aiding the commander in his repair efforts and yet I am… reluctant to assist. I will not be relieved to return.”
Jim opened and closed his mouth, with no comfort to offer him. Spock3 went on after a moment. “Do you suppose your bondmate would be amenable to an intellectual experiment, wherein he returned in my place for a period of time?”
Kirk smiled, in no doubt that Spock3 was joking.
“I think he might know you too well,” Kirk replied in kind.
“Indeed,” Spock3 agreed. “I would not trust another with my…” he looked up at last, meeting Kirk’s eye. “… with my destiny.”
Kirk could only muster a weak smile in response, and he failed to keep the pity out of it. The silence they fell into then was less comfortable, but still Jim did not seek to fill it for some time.
Spock3 had excellent spacial awareness, and was no doubt conscious of Kirk’s hand as it moved hesitantly toward him. Perhaps unclear as to the Captain’s intentions, he did not draw attention to the movement, even as Kirk seemed to rethink it and pulled his hand back. A beat passed before Kirk changed his mind again, and Spock3 barely had time to anticipate before the hand was returned, more confidently, and two gentle fingers came to rest along the backs of his own.
It was obvious that this time the effect was less jarring; that Spock3 had been allowed the millisecond he needed to assimilate the anticipation of contact. Nevertheless, he drew in a rapid breath, his forehead tightening in response to the sensations flooding in through his skin. Kirk didn’t move his hand, holding the contact as Spock3 relinquished his resistance and accepted the comfort that Jim couldn’t put into words.
Eventually, the Vulcan's fingers shifted beneath his own, maintaining contact while they turned, his hand twisting to bring the pads of Jim’s fingers into direct contact with his own.
Jim took that as permission; he let his fingers rest a moment, and then brought them sliding slowly down the joints, little more than a tickle progressing onto the palm of Spock3’s hand. He spared a glance to the Vulcan's face, smiling a little at the lowered eyelids, hung shoulders and faint greenish flush that betrayed his pleasure at the intimate act.
“Captain, this is not an act of friendship,” Spock3 admonished gently, although he made no move to remove his fingers.
“I know,” Kirk replied softly.
“You do this with him,” Spock3 whispered, not really a question, his voice husky and low. “Even though it offers you no stimulation?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Kirk said with a smile, his voice still gentle. “I may not feel it in quite the way you do, but I feel it.”
“Then you know we should, perhaps, desist,” Spock3 offered with no real conviction.
Jim didn’t reply. Instead he brought his thumb up to rest against a wrist where green blood pulsed furiously beneath the surface. The tip of his middle finger drew concentric circles around the soft, sensitive hollow of Spock3’s palm.
Spock3 seemed to melt, his whole body visibly relaxing into the stimulating touch. His desire to maintain integrity and not overstep the boundaries of which he was now aware was failing utterly.
“It’s fine,” Kirk said. “He says it’s fine.”
Spock3 might have had more to add, but he was cut off by the feeling of Kirk’s lips on his jaw. He tilted his head, arching into the touch and letting out a grateful sound that was most uncharacteristic of his species. A movement caught Spock3’s eye and, if he had been able, he would surely have pushed his captain away. Instead, he lifted his hand to Kirk’s head and screwed his fingers into dusky blonde hair.
Kirk moved back, drawing his mouth away.
“If you don’t want this, please just say no.”
Spock3 sighed, as yet unable to remove his hand.
“Your bondmate is…”
“Quite at ease with this situation,” Spock supplied, approaching from his vantage point at the steps of the glittering silver ship. “It is illogical to harbour jealousy toward myself.”
He knelt behind Jim and laid a hand on his back. Without a word or motion of encouragement, Kirk turned and leaned back over his own shoulder, taking Spock’s mouth in a familiar, deep and intimate kiss. Spock3 looked on, mouth slightly open with something approaching amazement at observing what he would look like, kissing his soulmate.
Still, Kirk’s fingers moved against his palm, stimulating exquisitely and transferring tendrils of confidence and satisfaction from them both.
They broke apart, maintaining eye contact as Kirk’s body language, quirks and the fine connection between them asked a silent question. With his answer received, he pressed his forehead to Spock’s for a second, before peeling back and descending upon their new friend.
“Any time you want to stop,” Kirk said, his mouth a centimetre from Spock3’s. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I do not,” Spock3 replied.
The corner of Kirk’s mouth quirked in a smile.
“Good,” he whispered. Then he caught Spock3’s lower lip between his teeth and any lingering resistance ebbed away, along with his attempts to stay sitting upright. Kirk pressed him backwards, encouraging Spock3’s mouth to open and sliding his tongue into the Vulcan's mouth. When they had previously been together, some hours ago, the rush had been so intense, so confusing and overwhelming; Spock3 hadn’t stopped to look at it directly. Now he understood the unrelenting pull that had robbed him of his resistance, he wrapped himself in it. He pressed, delving carefully into the shallows of Kirk’s mind. But he was delicate, careful not to try and force himself too far and bring any confusion to a bond that he was increasingly tempted to forget was not his own.
Jim smiled, evidently finding it fascinating, how the tentative pressure in his mind could be so familiar and yet so subtly different, so uncertain. Spock knew Jim’s mind, knew the limits of how much intrusion he would be permitted and knew where to push to send his senses reeling. With the bond in place, they didn’t need to meld fully to feel one another’s thoughts, but this Spock was still limited. Spock3 could not have reached that deeply into Jim’s mind even if he had not been restraining himself, but he was able to explore the shallows.
Spock3 closed his eyes and relaxed back into the soft, silvery reeds; his hands framing Jim’s waist as he helped the human into a comfortable position over him. His fingertips found a sliver of naked skin where Jim’s shirt met his waistband and that was temptation enough. Spock3 gathered up a handful of Kirk’s shirt and pulled, dragging the fabric up and pulling them out of the kiss to remove it altogether.
A more familiar touch came at Kirk’s back; a kiss that he had grown to know better than any other. The lips at the base of his neck brought with them soft comfort, further, wordless commitment to their current pursuit. Spock3, half-sitting in the arch of Kirk’s thighs, met his own gaze across Jim’s pale shoulder. Spock’s lips pressed harder against his shoulder and Spock3 couldn’t help but squeeze, just a little.
“Hey boys, if you’re just going to stare at each other, I can just sit this one out,” Kirk said, snapping both sets of attention back to him. Spock3 tightened his brow.
“No, captain, I did not…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jim said, leaning both hands on Spock3’s chest.
“Worry is…” Kirk leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth, interrupting him. “A human emotion,” he finished, a moment later when he was released.
“So is arousal,” Kirk pointed out, then pressed his lips to the end of Spock3’s chin, following a path down his neck while his fingers busied themselves defeating the silent zip that ran down the front of his jumpsuit and pushing it back off his shoulders.
“You need not limit yourself,” Spock told his supine reflection. “We will not judge you and there is little you can conceal from us. Try and relax,” he proposed.
Spock3 let his head slip back, his breathing slowing as Kirk drew his attention with an open mouth to his neck. Kirk had a sort of unfair advantage, to know what should physically stimulate a new partner. Of course, it was possible that the other Spock would be different; he wouldn’t respond in the same way. He wouldn’t necessarily have taken pleasure in the feeling of Jim’s mouth fastening tightly around his nipple, teeth scratching gently across the very tip. But when Jim tried it anyway, the arching of Spock3’s spine and the sweet moan he received in response suggested his current knowledge would be adequate.
To say that it was a curious sensation was quite the understatement; Spock3 was used to being alone in his own mind; rarely touching others any more than necessary. The only person he ever allowed to touch him for long was his mother (and how he wished he hadn’t thought of her at a time like this). With her, he could hide beneath the pretence of tolerance, the reality of how much he relished the wealth of emotions that surrounded him when their skin was in contact. He embraced the comfort, pride and so much unconditional love; the knowledge that there was nothing she would not do for him, no matter how illogical. Others he kept at a literal arm’s length, putting them off with his cold demeanour or quickly educating them in how Vulcans did not welcome prolonged contact. He did not want their thoughts or their feelings, any more than he wished to risk offering his own for their perusal; their judgement.
Now, though, he felt strangely as though he would like to dive into the very heart of James Kirk; to search out every sensation, thought and fluttering, transient emotion that whispered beneath his skin and through his veins. Likewise, his guard was shattered around feet; welcoming the intrusion and silently pleading for the man to read him, to see him most intimately and judge him adequate.
He could almost allow himself to believe, too, that the comfortable, familiar love emanating from Jim in regular beats was for him, were it not for the echo of himself behind it all. That was, perhaps, the strangest feeling of all; the faint refection of himself and not himself, lurking in the background of his bondmate; like a mouse in a hall of mirrors.
He found he didn’t mind it, so much, while the captain’s attentions were so firmly attached to him. It was his skin pattered with constant kisses, his clothes removed with expert fingertips, his hips pleasantly bruised by the captain’s open-mouth.
Pon Farr descended first in the early stages of adulthood, but the Vulcans weren’t so restrictive on their youths that they forced them into marriage at the first adolescent onset. Their marriages were arranged, but they were positively encouraged to spend their maturing years in development of their own pursuits, uninhibited by familial responsibility. Which was to say that Spock3 was not a virgin. He had had partners, with all the emotional and philosophical transference that was inevitable of full-body naked contact. And yet, no partner had delivered such fascinating intricacies of thought with the simple press of lips to skin.
Kirk pulled back and stared at him; his expression full of fond exasperation. It did not take the enviable, intricate bond that the other Spock was fortunate enough to share with him to read the instruction in the human’s manner.
Stop fucking over-thinking everything, it said. Pay attention to the man on his knees.
And he did. His mind flushed empty of the countless arguments that constantly raged and all that remained was the here and now, bright blue gems glittering with amusement and promise and full, smiling lips wrapping themselves around the head of his cock.
Nothing could have grounded the Vulcan more effectively to reality. Kirk’s mouth was all the things it should have been; hot and wet and accommodating, yet tight in precisely the right places, at the right times. This was an act of which Spock3 had far less experience; it wasn’t a particularly logical act, even for sex that was not intended for procreation, being one that brought pleasure to only one partner. Except that through the touch of his fingers, lips and all, Kirk’s delight in the act was radiant.
It was obvious that here was a man who revelled in challenging himself, something of which Spock3 was happy to be the subject when it involved Jim pushing himself, seeing how far down he could swallow the engorged, green-tinged flesh. Spock3 lifted his hands back to Kirk’s hair, delighting in the softness as it threaded through his fingers and trying to resist the temptation to twist his fingers inward, hold him still and lift his hips to fuck into the talented mouth.
He resisted, resting back against the supportive hillock of hay and letting his hands rest gently on Kirk’s head as the human dictated his own, more than acceptable pace. The captain did not leave him wanting. It crossed the Vulcan's mind to wonder if he might be allowed to climax just like this, with no reciprocation whatsoever. It seemed altogether too selfish and yet, this strange, beautiful man had apparently been designed to bring him nothing but confusing, spectacular pleasure.
And to laugh at the most peculiar of moments. Kirk pulled back from lavishing attention on Spock3’s sensitive flesh and turned to look at his own Vulcan, who had, apparently, been absent for a time.
“I’m sure it’s a terrific view, but if you’re about to suggest we start making recordings of ourselves…” he paused, considering the prospect, as Spock3 pushed himself up to sitting. “We’ll talk about it later,” Kirk concluded. Spock3 reached out to him, his fingers curling around the captain’s shoulder.
“Jim,” he whispered, with no certain idea where the rest of the sentence was headed.
Kirk smiled again; that sweet, familiar smile that promised so much and seemed to cloud a secret that only Jim himself knew. A private joke, perhaps. But, unless James Kirk was a master at hiding his true feelings, there was certainly nothing untoward in his intentions as he tilted Spock3’s chin up and secured his lips in a soft, deep kiss.
Spock3 could have lived in those kisses forever, when he finally found control over his hands and brought them up to connect with Kirk’s skin. His fingers made pass after pass over Kirk’s chest and sides, spreading wide over the warm, firm surface. The captain hummed in appreciation as Spock3’s fingers spread, reaching out to brush his nipples, almost teasingly. Kirk grinned against his mouth and moved back to pull at the lower half of his jumpsuit where it was sitting low around the Vulcan’s hips. Spock3 was determined not to be passive in the face of such glorious, golden confidence, and held him back as he went to move back over his prey.
Kirk looked at him with hooded eyes, waiting patiently for whatever he had planned. Kirk licked his lips, his cheeks attractively pink with arousal, lips pursing as Spock3’s hands slipped down the back of his stretchy, forgiving leggings, thumbs catching on the outside to pull them lower. Kirk helped him, shifting in order to free himself. It left them kneeling face-to-face, before Spock3 dropped to sitting, his eyes dropping to the enticing hardness presented to him. He wrapped his hand around it reverentially, lip twitching in something approaching a smile at the appreciative moan his captain let out. He pushed himself forward, the inside of his knees brushing the outside of Kirk’s, and he pressed a kiss to his sternum as he stroked. Kirk’s hand came down to squeeze his shoulder, and then lifted to his neck, tilting his head back and to one side so he could bend to bring their lips together.
“Do you want me?” Kirk whispered against his lips. “Inside…”
Spock3 wasn’t surprised how quickly he answered, “Yes.”
Spock3 found himself on his back again, with Kirk’s gentle encouragement, a persuasive hand to his stomach moving to push his legs apart. Despite the urgency of his own desire, the human took his time in preparing Spock3, fingers pressing into him, stretching him wider, kissing him in the most intimate, debauched way. Eventually, when Spock3 was arching up against him, robbed of restraint by the wealth of unfamiliar sensations and wordlessly begging to be made complete, Kirk brought his cock to the edge of Spock3’s body and pressed inward. Kirk’s erection was slick, but Spock3 only gave a fraction of a second’s thought to how that had come to be.
Spock3 was, indeed, not a virgin, but he had never been penetrated in this way. He was prepared for pain and prepared to put it to one side. He was surprised at how little the pinch of discomfort mattered in reality. He struggled to keep his eyes open, resisting the temptation to give in and lose himself in the feeling of possession. Kirk thrust into him with admirable self-restraint, letting him get used to the intrusion. It was more than Spock3 needed and he endeavoured to tell Jim so, making an uncharacteristic mess of his words as he tried to express himself, and managing to formulate little more than ‘please’ and ‘more’.
Kirk obliged, and for minute after minute they moved in an increasingly complimentary rhythm, Kirk’s knowledge of his own Vulcan proving highly effective in pleasing this less familiar creature.
Unexpectedly, after time that Spock3 couldn’t begin to estimate, Kirk stuttered and slowed, almost coming to a halt. Spock3 couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of the disappointed noise he made.
“My apologies,” he heard his own voice saying. “I can no longer be restrained.”
“I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long,” Kirk replied, directing the words half-over his own shoulder. It was a testament to his confused state of mind that Spock3 was only dimly aware that he was not the one to have spoken.
“Have you ever doubted my stamina before?” Spock asked, pressing a kiss to the back of Kirk’s neck. Kirk sniffed laughter and leaned down to pay attention to his new friend once more, thrusting his hips shallowly as they kissed. Kirk’s whole body tensed, lips going still and stiff against Spock3’s for a very long couple of seconds, before he softened, breathing out across Spock3’s mouth. Spock3 forced himself into a greater level of consciousness; keen to appreciate what had changed. He met his own gaze and reproached himself for having forgotten that his doppelganger was even present. He, too, could not quite fathom the other Vulcan’s restraint and did not blame him in the slightest for now seeking to sate his own desires by pushing into Jim, his Jim, while the captain was still buried in Spock3. At least that solved the question of where the slickness had come from. He hoped he would be such a thoughtful bondmate. It wasn’t vanity to assume he would be.
“Oh, now this is weird,” Jim whispered, not sounding discomforted by the sensation, no matter how odd it may have been. His fingers tensed and relaxed spasmodically against Spock3’s shoulder and hip, before he carefully resumed his movements.
Kirk eased Spock3’s thighs wider, lifting his knees so they sat against the curve of Jim’s hips. The movements were slower, now, less within Kirk’s control, but deeper, each forward thrust bringing his hips flush against Spock3’s and holding him deep inside. A beat would pass and then the reverse would let Spock3 breathe again. He pushed himself up on an elbow and the angle was inadvertently exquisite. His breath hitched, his mirror image echoed him and James Kirk hissed loud enough to make up for both of their restraint.
Even with no stimulation directly on his cock, he knew he was climbing closer to climax and he reached out instinctively, his fingers a hair’s breadth from falling against the skin of Kirk’s face when a hand of equal strength to his own stopped them.
Spock was not going to allow him to meld with Kirk, and rightly so, but in his eagerness to intercept the attempt, he had not considered the potential effects of touching himself. Where their hands met, thoughts flooded through, seamlessly moulding into one another. They were one and the same, each knowing every part of the other; their every thought and sensation.
In that one moment Spock3 felt it all; how it felt to be fully bonded, to be complete in a way he had not previously known he was lacking. He felt the serenity it brought, along with the undeniable fear, ever-present, that Jim (so impetuous, so exquisitely imperfect, so fragile) could be lost to him without warning. And, more immediately, he knew how it felt to be buried in the brilliance of heat and simultaneously penetrated by that same exquisite body.
It was overwhelming. The fingers at his wrist tightened and, with an almost-human cry of joy, ecstasy took him.
#
When he woke, he was surprised to realise that he had even been asleep. The last thing he remembered was the weight of James Kirk falling into his arms, heavy and heaving, scalding hot against him. He remembered lazy kisses and golden, sleepy comfort. And then nothing but clouds until this moment.
They were where they had been, still in the hangar on the soft silver hay. Somebody had procured them a few blankets, for modesty more than comfort as the atmosphere was pleasantly warm, and a glance at his surroundings, namely the absence of his twin, suggested from where they had come.
What remained, though, was much more interesting. Beside him, 16 centimetres away at their closest point, James Kirk slumbered peacefully, his lips curved into a slightly self-satisfied smile.
“This is the strangest experience of my life,” Spock3 whispered to nobody, reaching out to brush a blonde lock from Jim’s temple.
He heard, or felt, perhaps, a gentle prompt, and looked up toward his ship, where the other Vulcan stood awaiting him, his manner unreadable, even to himself. Spock inclined his head slightly and Spock3 took the implication, nodding his acceptance and extricating himself from their makeshift bed. He pulled his jumpsuit back on, careful not to wake the human, and made his way to the ship.
Spock had abandoned the doorway and was reviewing a panel on the console.
“I believe you will find all the components are now functional,” he said casually as Spock3 stepped into the room. He was not certain of how his own posture came across, but he was confident that he was, as a rule, stiffer than this bonded Vulcan. Not for the first time, he wondered how much of his human side he could suffer to express. Perhaps being bonded to a human was the permission his humanity needed to release. Spock looked... comfortable. “I trust you will want to verify my calculations; I have only been able to work based on my observations. This being your work, I advise complete review of my adjustments.”
“Indeed,” Spock3 replied, aware that there was no need to pad the other Vulcan’s ego; such things could not be left to chance and there was no substitute for experience. “I will perform thorough checks. May I express my gratitude for your efforts?”
“No gratitude is necessary,” Spock replied, not unkindly. “It is for the best that you are missing for as little time as possible. We do not know the long-term ramifications of your presence here, nor your absence from your own universe.”
And that, although not a lie, was transparent to both of them.
“I took the liberty of verifying your database with a number of basic searches,” Spock went on. “They were satisfactory in locating the requested star charts and federation personnel within 3.4 seconds of query submission.” Spock3 nodded, unsure as to the relevance of the action, given that his database had not been affected by the crash. “For your reference, I have made a record of the results on the main drive of your computer, under data file JTK.”
Spock3 stepped past him to a wall panel, pulling up the referenced file for review.
“Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Aboard the USS Republic,” Spock agreed. “Already highly regarded within Star Fleet, if he continues on his current course he is likely to achieve the title of Captain at a younger age than any previous officer.”
“An exceptional young man,” Spock3 suggested, his eyes fixed on the screen.
“In every universe of which I have experience,” Spock agreed.
Spock3 hesitated.
“I cannot even begin to formulate a plan by which I can even manoeuvre myself into his company,” he thought aloud. “Even if I were to bring myself into a position to begin such a pursuit, I have no reason to believe my attentions would be welcome. He may be a very different man.”
“I can offer you no guarantees,” Spock said in something approaching sympathy. “But it might help you to know that the first time I met James Kirk, I had him up on disciplinary charges. I invoked the name of his dead father to mock him. Shortly after, I rendered him unconscious and exiled him to an ice planet and the next time we met, I hit him repeatedly and choked him until he came close to suffocation.”
Spock3 could not help but look shocked and Spock had the decency to look a little ashamed.
“And yet, he loves you?” Spock3 suggested. “Is Star Fleet aware of this worrying proclivity for masochism?”
Spock narrowed his eyes, clearly fighting amusement.
“While I would not recommend this course as an appropriate method of courtship, the message is that James Kirk is a most forgiving creature, and that perseverance is key.”
“Fascinating.”
“In addition,” Spock went on, a touch awkwardly. “Do not judge yourself too harshly. I can say without ego that you can bring him as much joy and success as he brings to you. You should not deny yourself the revelation of all that you can accomplish together.” Spock’s lip twitched, akin to a face-splitting grin as he took great pleasure passing on the most precious knowledge.
“You imply that this is destiny; he and I will always find one another. And yet, without this highly improbable series of events, culminating in the influence of an external factor to which I should never logically have been exposed, I would never have sought him out. Are you suggesting that the fates might have conspired in some other way to bring us together?”
“I have yet to form a conclusive opinion as regards the existence of predestination. However, if one were to argue in its favour, then your point is moot. The reality is, you are here. Fate, if there is such a thing, has already intervened.” Spock3 nodded slowly, not looking wholly convinced. “You can consider the temporal ramifications at your leisure,” Spock said. “Perhaps on your journey back.”
Spock3 nodded.
“I should make ready to leave,” he agreed, hesitating and looking over toward the door. He turned his attention to the ship, ostensibly checking Spock’s work but his attention still quite obviously drawn toward the absent member of their party.
“I understand your reticence,” Spock said after a short period of silence. “But delaying your departure will not make the inevitable any less difficult to endure.”
“I am aware of that,” he replied. “I was contemplating whether to say goodbye.” The idea of it ached even more than the loss itself. “Perhaps... you could extend my farewell for me.”
“With pleasure,” Spock said kindly. “I believe I will be able to communicate that which you would have him know.” Spock3 nodded.
“Thank you, for all that you have done for me,” he said. “I can never repay...”
“The best reward either of us could ask is for you to leave us, now, and find your own destiny. For all our best interests.”
“I would remark upon the illogic of your jealousy,” Spock3 observed. “But I already understand it.”
Spock nodded, far from insulted, and turned to depart.
“On the subject of jealousy,” he considered before he reached the door. “One last thing. James Kirk can be a fearsomely jealous creature, when he chooses. I would suggest making contact with T’Pring and severing your obligation to her at the earliest opportunity. The consequences of his being unprepared could prove... exothermic. And his punishments are as intolerable as they are devious.”
“I have an interesting path ahead of me,” Spock3 surmised. “I look forward to it.”
“Good luck,” Spock said with a nod, lifting his hand into a familiar salute.
“Live long and prosper,” he replied, mirroring the gesture.
#
Kirk woke to the feeling of strong fingers tracing the contours of his face in gentle, methodical exploration.
“Hey,” he said sleepily, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Well, that was wild.”
“It was certainly a unique experience,” Spock conceded, his eyes flickering over Jim’s face but never quite meeting his eyes.
“Not with the rate you keep turning up,” Kirk joked. “This could end up being a regular event!” Spock’s fingers tightened at the side of his face, curling into his hair and Kirk’s smile faded. “We’re fine, right?” he asked carefully.
“We are,” Spock confirmed, sliding down to lie beside him. “The only feeling I harbour toward him is hope. And perhaps a touch of envy,” he confessed. Kirk looked at him quizzically, turning his face into Spock’s palm and catching his thumb with the soft pads of his lips. “He has the rare pleasure of finding you, now, of pursuing you and learning...” he trailed off as Jim sucked Spock’s thumb between his lips, flicking his tongue across the surface. “I withdraw that remark,” Spock said immediately, narrowing his eyes at Kirk’s lowered, softened gaze.
“He will do fine,” Jim said confidently, releasing Spock’s thumb and pressing kisses to the pad of his hand. “If Jim Kirk is not an idiot, Jim Kirk will love him. And Jim Kirk is never an idiot.”
Spock gave him a pointed look that was in no way insubordinate but also managed to tease him rather exquisitely. Jim fetched him a slap to his shoulder, and would have challenged him further, but for the interruption of the hangar doors sliding open. Kirk turned over, looking back over his shoulder to watch the nearly silent ship lifting up and moving slowly toward the open doors.
“I suppose there might be a universe where I’m an idiot,” he considered, rolling onto his front and resting over Spock’s fully-clothed chest.
“We should return to the ship,” Spock pointed out.
“Or where I’m a stickler for the rules and you’re always breaking them,” Jim went on as if he hadn’t heard the remark. The ship began to move directly upward as it cleared the doors that started to close behind him. “Maybe there’s a universe where we’re evil. Or, cats,” he said suddenly. “We could have evolved from cats.”
Spock sighed, knowing he was allowed to do so, and silently let Jim go on suggesting theories. On the edge of his hearing, beyond what his bondmate could possibly have detected, he listened to the unique, hollow sound of a hole being torn in the space-time continuum.
“Indeed, Jim,” he acknowledged. “Anything is possible.”
The End.