Paradise Bought: Chapter 3: Pain to Merit the Release
Chapter 3: Pain to Merit the Release
Joy to have merited the Pain --
To merit the Release --
Joy to have perished every step --
To Compass Paradise --
Joy to have merited the Pain -- by Emily Dickinson
Jim stood in the middle of his cabin, staring at nothing. He didn’t know why he was so shocked that the Ambassador and Spock were lovers. He only knew that he felt sick at the idea that Spock might be with someone intimately and he hadn’t known anything about it.
Spock had always seemed asexual to him. He had rarely, if ever, shown an interest in another, and when he did, it was usually when he was under some alien influence. Jim also assumed Spock preferred women. The idea he had had a romance with a man was surprising and admittedly erotic.
After a few minutes, Jim gave himself a mental shake, quelling sudden nausea. Rubbing his hands over his face, he closed his eyes briefly, and then hastened to the fresher, stomach roiling. After locking both doors, he leaned over the commode and lost his dinner. Shakily, he righted himself and looked into the mirror, after rinsing his mouth and splashing cold water on his face.
The face that looked back at him was pale, eyes red rimmed, lines of pain deepening around his mouth. He looked like hell. Jim grimaced in a parody of his usual sunny smile and was about to leave the fresher, when he heard Ericksson’s distinctive laugh coming from Spock’s cabin on the other side of their joined doors. Jim couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to. He walked to the locked door and leaned against it, trying to hear the voices within with a sick fascination.
He didn’t have Spock’s superior hearing but he could clearly identify Ericksson’s musical voice and Spock’s rumbling undertones. After a few minutes of hearing little of importance, Jim pulled his ear away from the door, ashamed and relieved. This was a terrible breach of Spock’s privacy.
He decided to leave, grabbing a towel and taking a last swipe of his dripping face. Just before he stepped out, he heard Spock groan. He froze and turned to look at the door. Unbelievable. Unable to stop himself, good intentions ignored, he stepped closer to the door in order to hear.
“Please.” This plea was followed by a string of increasingly urgent Vulcan words Jim couldn’t understand. Their voices rose and fell, to Jim’s mind, not in conversation. They were making love.
By the time they fell silent, Jim was hard as granite, touching himself through the fabric of his uniform pants. When he heard them saying their good byes, Jim quickly released the locks and scurried back to his cabin, making sure no one would enter without his explicit authorization.
Peeling off his uniform and boots, Jim lay down on his bunk, still in his briefs. He hated himself but couldn’t stop from placing a tentative hand on his cock and giving it an experimental squeeze. He swore softly and closed his eyes, picturing the scene that might have been played out in Spock’s cabin, just minutes ago. Jim arched under the pressure of his hand and cried out. He realized much later, slipping into sticky sleep, he had called Spock’s name.
Spock stood at the door to Jim’s cabin and looked down. There could be little doubt as to what Jim was doing, he heard him clearly through the fresher door. His moans had drawn him when he entered after making love with Pelle. Pelle. He should have been satisfied with Pelle’s attentions, but he found himself wishing it had been Jim touching him intimately.
Pelle had always been a beloved lover, exciting and innovative. His warm, welcoming body and sharp mind had ever been appealing. They had come together at a time when their sexuality had been a natural outcome of their deep friendship. Pelle was a part of him, his history, and his emotional landscape. They had both taken other lovers but always managed to return to each other, content and comfortable in their affection.
Spock found he was shocked by the fact he wanted Jim, too. He had never considered such a thing, but listening to him after he and Pelle made love, was undisputedly erotic.
When he heard Jim calling his name, he found himself unexpectedly aroused.
Shaking his head in defeat, he staggered back to his bunk, throwing himself down. He brought both hands up to his face and was surprised to find they were wet. Spock allowed himself to weep for a moment, grieving for what was, what had been and what never could be. Before he fell into sleep, he vowed to wake early. He would need to meditate in order to function tomorrow.