PART TWO [CLOSED]
PART ONE PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN HERE
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5.
James T. Kirk had a plan for how to get Uhura into bed. Ever since his last night in Riverside when he’d first met her, he’d been just a little in love with her. Those gorgeous, dark eyes, that sharp wit, that delicious, exotic skin; the whole package was just too much to pass up on, despite the fact that she seemed to have developed a fervent dislike of him.
Jim played a long game though, when it mattered enough, and he figured out that the best way to get to Uhura was to wear her down. Every couple of months, he’d just happen to go to a party she was at, or he’d sit down in lecture to find to his total and complete surprise that Uhura was next to him. Mostly, she’d just ignore him, but every once in awhile he got her to throw her head back in that wicked little laugh he recalled so fondly from their first meeting. It’d been one of the few things about that night that he had genuinely enjoyed.
He was sure he was getting somewhere, after three years of this little scheme, despite Uhura’s continued rebuttal of his advances and refusal to even tell him her first name.
So, when he did his little double-take on the transporter pad at Spock and one of his few long-time commitments making out, he admitted he felt a little disappointed.
Mostly shocked that Spock even knew what human kissing was, but that was to be expected when the only real emotion the man had shown resulted from Jim’s barrage of insults and accusations.
But when he heard Spock call Uhura by her first name, the disappointment was quickly replaced by some sort of acceptance. After all, he wasn’t one to bear grudges and, as he watched Spock’s dark eyes follow Uhura’s figure as she left the pad, he thought that they suited each other in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
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James T. Kirk was totally getting lucky tonight. He gave the female dignitary sitting next to him another of his most charming smiles and shifted close enough so that their thighs brushed, almost accidentally. Her turquoise skin went a bit darker at the shoulders, which Jim assumed was the Q’laurian equivalent to blushing, and her bright gold eyes slid half-closed, giving him what he was very sure to be a “come hither” look. The gills around her neck also did a peculiar flapping motion, and Jim wondered how sensitive they were.
So, diplomatic missions can be fun, Jim thought smugly as he began to reach out to satisfy his curiosity.
The sudden appearance of his first officer looming over him killed the motion in its infancy. Jim looked up into the neutral, yet completely disapproving gaze.
“Captain,” Spock said with a polite nod to the alien woman. “There are some urgent matters that I wish to inform you of.”
Jim gave him an uncomprehending look.
“Go ahead then.”
Spock stared off to the side for a second then back at Jim, as if he was gathering his patience.
“I believe that these matters would best be discussed in private.” This time, Spock’s gaze was moved rather pointedly to the female dignitary. Jim tried not to sigh, finally understanding that Spock wasn’t going to leave unless Jim went with him.
Standing, he gave an apologetic smile to the alien. She was looking up with him with a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face that only made her look more fetching.
Whatever Spock wants to talk about, grumbled Jim to himself as he followed Spock some distance away, it better be pretty damn important to make me miss out on that.
They stopped in a corner of the hall where Jim and the rest of the diplomatic party from the Enterprise were being entertained by the planet’s local population. Around them, turquoise-skinned Q’laurians, a humanoid species whose ancestors were some kind of fish, surrounded Jim’s crew, speaking rapidly in a high-pitched chatter that the universal translators had been having trouble keeping up with. Jim had determined that the best way to communicate with them was through facial expressions. Since the Q’laurians had an even wider range of expression than humans did, most of which were similar to human patterns, what the translators missed could be filled in by body language. His little test run of this theory on the Q’laurian sitting next to him had turned out much better than he’d expected.
Jim had been unsurprised, but still immensely amused, to find that the Q’laurians avoided Spock like the plague. No wonder Spock was acting a little crabby.
“So, what’s so important?” Jim asked, leaning against the wall to consider his first officer.
“I felt it my duty to inform you that you are putting the diplomatic relations at risk by your current conduct. You would do well to cease all attempts at engaging K’lauva.”
Jim made a note to remember the alien’s name this time, and then raised an eyebrow, stealing what he’d come to find was one of Spock’s few open expressions of incredulity.
“Oh, really? I don’t think she was all that offended by my ‘conduct,’ actually. We were getting along just fine.” Spock inclined his head slightly, as if conceding the point, but Jim knew better.
“That may be,” replied the Vulcan, his tone without any inflection, “but I find it hard to believe that the Grand Chancellor will look favorably upon your attempted seduction of his daughter.”
Jim blinked.
“Oh.”
Then,
“Shit.”
“Indeed,” murmured Spock, the slightest glint of levity in his eyes.
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James T. Kirk really shouldn’t be smiling, as people were usually supposed to take their impending doom seriously, but the look on Bones’ face was just too funny not to react.
“Say that one more time,” Bones said, slowly and with an odd tightness in his voice that Jim suspected was a combination of trying not to laugh and complete shock.
The alien frowned and blinked one of its three eyes. From where he stood, tied to a large, ornamental post, Jim wondered if blinking one eye was harder when you had three of them. He tested out his theory by winking first one eye, then the other, and then remembered he didn’t have a third eye. He stopped a second to consider his latest train of thought.
“Bones,” Jim called out. “I think the drugs they gave me are starting to work.” Bones shot him a half-furious, half-concerned look and turned back to the leader of the aliens whom he had been questioning.
“As we have stated previously,” began the alien, blinking two of its eyes to Jim’s increased astonishment, “your ‘Captain Kirk’ has broken our tribal laws by stepping onto temple grounds when he is neither a priest nor an initiate. Therefore, he has been sentenced to death.”
“Yeah, I got all that,” snarled Bones impatiently. “What I’m trying to understand here is how you’re planning to do the deed.” The alien sneered.
“This, we have also explained before. We place Kirk in our death machine, which stimulates his nerves and causes him to ejaculate until such a time as he dies of exhaustion or dehydration, whichever comes first for your species. For our kind, it is a very painful way to die.”
“So, to sum it up, you’re going to orgasm him to death?”
Jim grinned wider when the expression showed up on Bones’ face again. No one could pull off complete shock, partial horror, and slight envy quite like he could.
As death sentences go, Jim mused idly to himself, that’s one I think I could live with.
“Pun intended,” he informed the guard next to him. The guard blinked his middle eye at him and Jim blinked both of his back in an attempt to emulate the motion.
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“Hi, Bones. You should let them put me in the box. I think it’s a good idea.”
“Shut up, Jim. You’re loopy from that infernal concoction they gave you, probably so you wouldn’t be able to escape once they put you in that thing-”
“Orgasm-death machine,” Jim corrected him.
“-so you’re not in the greatest position to be saying what’s a good idea and what’s not. I managed to send off a report about this fiasco back to the ship and Spock’s trying to find the bastard that lured you to the temple so he can prove that the whole thing was a set-up. Until then, we’re going to delay this thing-”
“Orgasm-death machine,” Jim corrected once again.
“-and you are going to shut up!”
“But no, Bones, you don’t get it!” Jim shook his head from side to side, then abruptly stopped when the world around him became to spin and tilt in alarming ways.
“Ugh...waitaminnit…okay, it’s a good idea because Spock is gonna find the dude and get him down here in time to save me, but in the meantime…”
He paused here for dramatic effect.
“Orgasm-death machine. How awesome is that?”
Bones put his head in his hands and gave a deep sigh.
To Jim’s drugged dismay, Spock managed to show up and clear his name just before they put him in the machine. He complained loudly about this fact as Spock untied him from the post.
“We could just try it out, for science,” Jim was trying to explain, staggering forward once the support of the ropes was gone. Spock caught him neatly and Bones hovered nearby with his tricorder, trying to figure out exactly what the aliens had drugged him with.
“I am certain there are alternate methods that the machine may be tested with which do not involve your assistance and subsequent death.” Spock slung Jim’s arm around his shoulder to support him. Jim thought about it for a minute and decided it was a good idea to hold onto Spock with his other arm too, since the ground still hadn’t stopped spinning yet. He tossed the appendage around Spock’s neck so that he was practically hugging the other man.
“It’d only be for a little while,” Jim tried to persuade him. “You’d get me out before I died. You always do.”
“We are ready to be beamed up, Mr. Scott,” was Spock’s reply into his communicator.
“You’re no fun at all,” Jim sulked as the lights of the transporter materialized around them.
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James T. Kirk walked onto the bridge and congratulated himself for making it on time when he’d just woken up about five minutes ago. He pulled on the bottom of his uniform shirt, making sure it was on straight, and headed to his chair.
On his way, he glanced over at the communications console and paused.
“Lt. Uhura?” His voice was confused, and he wondered if maybe he’d set his clock for the wrong time. Uhura was supposed to be on Gamma shift and he was on Alpha shift. The only time he’d seen the communications officer recently was in the cafeteria and the rec room.
“Yes, captain?” She turned smoothly in her chair. Her tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of Just keep walking, buster.
“Where’s Officer Bates?”
“She has been reassigned,” Spock smoothly cut in. He stepped forward, giving a brief, friendly nod at Uhura. Uhura gave a small smile and turned back to her console. Kirk frowned.
Alright, now he knew something weird was going on. Spock and Uhura hadn’t been on particularly cordial terms for the last few weeks. Jim had heard about their falling out not long after the actual event, but he would’ve figured it out pretty quickly even without being told about it. The way the two had acted around each other had been a major give away, stalking about like insulted cats and avoiding looking at each other even when they were speaking. It hadn’t been much longer before Uhura had asked to be reassigned to a different shift. Jim had approved it with a faint sense of empathy. Getting along with exes was never easy for him either.
Kirk had had mixed feelings about the whole thing, and was surprised by them. He still remembered, though a bit distantly, that he would’ve sacrificed quite a lot to get a chance at Uhura in his Academy days. Plus, it was a special talent of his to appeal to girls on the rebound, and if that didn’t describe Uhura just then, than nothing did. He could’ve offered to switch Spock’s shifts instead, but he didn’t. He didn’t even make the weakest of passes at her. There was a definite lack of something in him where there had once been.
Or maybe more of it, but it was just not a something aimed at Uhura. That thought was weird though, and gave him a funny, tight feeling in his chest so he put it from his mind.
“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s nice to see you back. I did miss the view.”
There, that was better. Uhura didn’t turn around, but he saw the beginnings of a sly smile on the part of her face he could see.
“As I understand it, captain, you had a nice enough time with my replacement.”
Jim was uncharacteristically surprised by that. He thought about Officer Bates, but could only bring up a generic-looking female with blond hair in his memory. He did recall that she had been a bit annoying, hovering around his chair constantly, asking for his advice on communications matters he really had no opinion about, always dropping things in front of him. Bending down. Looking up at him through golden lashes.
Ah, fuck, Jim sighed at himself. She was flirting at me. I must be really losing my edge.
“So, why did you decided to transfer back?” Jim asked, leaning against the handrail. If he’d just had another week or so with the officer, he was sure she would’ve gotten through. It was a pity, really.
That question Uhura didn’t answer either, instead sharing a look with Spock. Then, Uhura just smiled that sly smile again and turned to her console. Jim looked between the two of them, frowning, feeling a slight twinge of that something that was really, really nothing. Apparently, they’d let bygones be bygones and that was a good thing.
Spock spoke up once again.
“Captain, it is now five minutes past the beginning of Alpha shift, yet you have not officially assumed your command.”
Jim narrowed his eyes at his first officer, but Spock’s face remained the epitome of innocence.
“Fine, have it your way,” he said, addressing them both huffily. Spock nodded and moved back to his console as Jim turned to walk over to his chair.
As he had his back turn, Jim missed the small, satisfied gleam in Spock’s eyes of a job well done.
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James T. Kirk wasn’t the type of guy who went out of his way to find partners. In Riverside, and San Francisco after that, getting laid was a simple matter of going to a bar or a party and picking up someone who was looking for the same thing Jim was: uncomplicated, unattached sex. He wasn’t obsessed with it, or anything, but it was a useful way to relieve the boredom of Iowa and the stress of the Academy. And, of course, it was hella fun.
So, it was a little disconcerting to find himself missing sex. He never, not once in his years at the academy, considered the fact that as the captain of a starship, he would be restricted to certain etiquette. No fraternization with the crew meant that he couldn’t go chasing after every pretty crewmember that caught his eye. There was the added restraint of Spock, who seemed to be becoming even less tolerant of Jim’s flirting with the crew. Contact with local populations on planets was restricted too, which Spock was also quick to remind him of. A starship captain couldn’t be seen as some horndog to potential Federation allies, after all.
Before Jim had really realized it though, it had been close to seven or eight months since he’d last had sex. This dry spell started right around the same time that he had officially become captain of the Enterprise and it was getting to be a problem.
It was a problem because his libido, obviously going crazy from lack of sex, found very unprofessional targets to focus on.
Jim took a deep gulp of his Saurian brandy and tried not to think of dreams about flushed green skin. Behind him, the dance floor pulsed with movement and light as music boomed and deafened and drove the dancers to a frenzy. The bar he leaned against was packed with young, beautiful people ordering their drink s as they chatted and flashed incredibly white teeth. It was like coming home.
Shore leave, and this club, could not have come at a better time. Jim was reaching that point of desperation where he was starting to find chess stimulating in a horrifying, as in not at all intellectual, way. It hadn’t helped with the way those long, white fingers had almost absent-mindedly stroked the chess pieces.
Jim shook his head, trying to dispel such thoughts. He was here for one reason, and that was to get his itch scratched. His libido would be satisfied, his subconscious would stop giving him all these alarming dreams, and he’d be able to go back to doing what he did best: being the greatest goddamned captain Starfleet had.
His cocky smile bloomed on his face and he turned, eyes surveying the crowd, scoping out which people were there to dance, drink, or do the dirty. In seconds, they had zeroed in on a man who seemed to be doing the exact same thing he was. Their eyes met and held. The man gave an interested look and he raised his glass in invitation. Jim picked up his own drink and made his way over, confidence growing with every step. It really was like riding a bicycle.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” the man said as Jim slid into the seat across from him. “I’m Lawrence.”
“Jim. I’m on shore leave for a few days, my ship docked this morning.”
“So, I guess I should have started out with ‘Hey there, sailor. Looking for a good time?’”
Jim laughed and the man’s smile slid into something coy. The table was small, and their thighs were pressed against each other, but neither seemed to mind.
“I don’t think anyone’s used a line like that for a few decades. You’ve got to love the classics though.”
“Oh, I’ve got a healthy respect for them. I could always go for something new though.” The phrasing was vague, but there was no mistaking the meaning behind the man’s tone.
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“Like what you see?” Lawrence murmured, shifting so that their thighs slid against each other.
“I think I do,” Jim said, with a widening smile. His hand reached out unconsciously to move gently over Lawrence’s cheek, framing those dark eyes. He leaned forward, about to suggest that they go someplace a little more private when the crackle of the communicator at his belt interrupted.
“Captain, do you read?”
Spock. The absolute last person Jim wanted to hear from right then.
“You’re a captain?” Lawrence looked surprised and drew back a little. Jim wanted to put his head in his hands.
“Come in, Captain Kirk.”
Jim cursed and pulled out his communicator before anymore damage is done.
“What is it, Mr. Spock? I’m on shore leave right now, in case you weren’t aware.”
“Certainly. I just wished to remind you that crew performance evaluations are due by the end of the month.”
“You had to remind me now?!”
“In my experience, I find that you need constant reminders of your duties as you tend to disregard them so often. As such, I would advise that you use your free time to complete the large amount of paperwork that you have yet to begin.”
Jim grit his teeth, finally giving in and rubbing his forehead, though the headache that was developing refused to be assuaged.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” There was a pause where Jim imagined Spock with that insufferably superior look on his face.
“As you did not specify, I am unsure as to what you are referring to and therefore cannot comment. Have a good evening, captain. Spock out.”
“Spock-!” The communicator went silent.
“Oh my God, you’re Captain James T. Kirk!” Lawrence exclaimed very loudly, his eyes huge and star struck. Civilians from nearby tables turned to look, whispering to each other until the commotion was loud enough to be heard over the music. Jim quickly stood up and edged away from the growing crowd.
“I’ve uh…got to go, lots of paperwork to do, and stuff.” The crowd surged forward and he bolted for the exit, escaping into the night with cries of “Can I have your autograph?!” echoing behind him.
Oh, Spock was going to get it now.
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James T. Kirk didn’t even bother to knock because he was the captain and captains could go into their first officer’s rooms whenever they damn well liked, if it was important enough.
“You,” he accused Spock, who looked up from his computer with his eyebrows set to surprised, “are keeping me from having sex.”
“Captain.” The tone was long-suffering without any actual inflections in the way the word was said, but Jim wasn’t fooled, not after tonight’s little fiasco.
“Don’t you ‘Captain’ me!” Kirk retorted. “I’m onto you and your little plan to drive me crazy.” He walked straight up to Spock’s desk and slammed his hands onto it. The bastard didn’t even flinch, his expression still one of mild surprise. Unfazed, Jim continued.
“At first, it seems all reasonable, stuff that even I would agree to like keeping away from the diplomats and warlords’ daughters because it’d just get shit all messed up. And same for the crew, even if everyone knows those fraternization rules are basically for show, but I figured I had to set an example or something, since I’m the captain. But then it’s like I can’t even talk to a person without you hovering around, telling me that I need to ‘appear capable.’ I mean, what the fuck does that even mean?! How can I look capable if I’ve got you acting like you’re my chaperone?”
The Vulcan’s eyebrows lowered and now he just looked disinterested, closed-off. That expression was driving Jim forward, fueling his rant so that the words spilled faster and faster out of his mouth.
“That’s not even the worst part, you know? The worst part is that I never thought I really needed sex, or anything like that. I thought I was…that I’d made myself better. But all I’m doing lately is thinking about it and waking up in the middle of the night with dreams about-”
Jim managed to cut himself off, snapping his mouth shut with enough speed that he almost bit his tongue. Spock’s eyes were suddenly piercing and very, very dark.
“Dreams about what, Captain?”
“It’s not important,” Jim muttered, looking away for the first time. “The point is, that you need to back off because as much as you might like seeing me squirm, I can promise I won’t make this easy for you.”
“I believe I am sufficiently prepared for that challenge.”
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“Uh…” Jim’s brain was scrambling, trying to adjust to the sudden close presence. “Wait, what? You’re actually admitting that you’re doing this on purpose?”
“I believe my objective has been mostly achieved,” Spock acquiesced with a slight tilt of his head.
Jim’s hand was grabbing Spock’s collar before he realized that he’d moved. The Vulcan’s eyebrows flew up once more and he even stumbled a little, though it was due more to the abrupt manner of Jim’s movement than its strength. The stumble brought their bodies even closer so that there were mere inches apart.
“You bastard,” Jim snarled, and his voice was rough only because of anger and nothing else. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock replied coolly, his own voice even and unhurried. “As this conversation is unconstructive and apparently degenerating into violence, I respectfully ask that you leave.”
The words were polite, professional, without even a hint of animosity but Jim could hear the undercurrent to them. It clearly said: Back off or face the consequences. It was an undercurrent very close to the one that had been in Spock’s voice just before he had nearly choked Jim to death. And just like that time, Jim wasn’t backing down. Not with those dark eyes daring him, pushing him forward.
“I’ll show you unconstructive.” Jim’s hand tightened on Spock’s collar and he could feel the Vulcan’s shoulders tense, his stance shift in preparation for a fight. And then he pulled Spock towards him and crushed their mouths together.
The instant their lips touched, it was as if a dam broke and Jim was flooded with need and desperation that had him tearing at Spock’s clothing. He couldn’t stop moving, pressing Spock to him, running his hands over the unfamiliarly hot skin, licking and sucking and biting Spock’s lips and tongue. He wasn’t the only one either.
The instant their lips touched, Spock relaxed and grabbed onto Jim as if he had been expecting this reaction all along. There was no resistance to the press of Jim’s hands or mouth. Instead, Spock gave as good as he got, his tongue tangling with Jim’s, drawing it into his own mouth to suck on it gently.
Jim couldn’t get enough of how Spock’s skin felt hot enough to burn, smooth and pale except for where he nipped at it and it bloomed green. He concentrated on the strangely rough texture of Spock’s tongue, on the feel of Spock’s jawbone under his lips. Spock was running his hands through Jim’s hair, probably making it a mess, but Jim didn’t particularly notice or care.
They made it to the bed, somehow, and they also managed to get their shirts off with minimal damage. Jim leaned over Spock who was splayed out below him, a foreign yet long-studied form. He ran his hands over the exposed skin, flashing from one spot to the next as if he could gather all the sensations of Spock at once. Spock’s hands were more methodical, though no less hurried, their movements seeming to catalogue each section of exposed flesh. One of Jim’s hands stilled over Spock’s side, where he could feel an alien heartbeat thrumming. For a moment, he was fascinated by that rapid beat but Spock was pulling him back to his mouth and there were more pressing matters to be attended to.
Pun intended, Jim thought a bit distantly as he softly bit Spock’s bottom lip. The small gasp Spock allowed through made Jim’s heart stutter. He pulled away, breathing hard and really looked at Spock.
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He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Spock mattered. He mattered in a way that Jim had never experienced before, that made him unsure of himself when no one else had even come close. He was serious about Spock, and that was terrifying and elating at the same time. And that’s why he couldn’t mess up what they had, their friendship and whatever else might come, in some desperate bid to quiet his libido.
“Spock…” he began, still breathless and trying to figure out how to phrase this without seeming like a complete jackass.
“Jim.” The use of his first name had Jim’s heart jumping again. “I am not being coerced into this. I chose this, chose you, some time ago. I do this of my own free will.”
“But, I just want you to know that-”
“I know, Jim.” Spock brought Jim’s hand to his own and pressed his index and middle fingers against Jim’s. Jim blinked at the unexpected feel that came from the contact, a buzz that echoed pleasantly in his head. Impulsively, Jim leaned down to press a kiss to Spock’s lips and felt the buzz intensify.
“It did take you some time to realize though,” Spock said against Jim’s mouth, still managing to sound slightly disapproving. Jim let his mouth curve into a smile, feeling the reactive twitch of Spock’s mouth.
“Well,” Jim laughed, drawing away only to press another kiss to Spock’s forehead, “I think we have plenty of time to make up for it.” Spock gave a murmur of agreement and drew Jim’s mouth back to his.
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S’chn T’gai Spock made his way back to his room from the mess hall, laden with a tray carrying an assortment of traditional Terran breakfast items. Knowing the Enterprise as he did though, it was without surprise that he found his path intercepted by Nyota, whom he had hoped to avoid this particular morning. Her smile was wide and wicked, her eyes bright with playfulness that did not bode well for Spock.
“So, it finally happened, did it?” she said without preamble.
“Good morning, Nyota,” Spock answered diplomatically. Her smile only widened further at the attempted dodge.
“It’s about time. I still think all that sneaking around was completely unnecessary. Kirk isn’t exactly the type of guy who goes for subtlety. I can’t believe I even agreed to help with this whole thing.”
“This is not the location to be speaking of such matters.” Spock edged a step or two away from some engineering officers passing by on their way to the mess hall. Nyota just laughed and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.
“If you’re in such a rush to get back, I won’t stop you. Just make sure the two of you aren’t late to Alpha shift. Even if everyone already knows, you two don’t need to make it completely obvious.”
“What’s completely obvious?” Dr. McCoy asked, pausing next to Nyota. Spock was beginning to seriously reconsider his decision to get breakfast.
“I am needed elsewhere,” he said hastily, striding past the two of them.
“I’m sure you are!” Nyota called after him, nudging Dr. McCoy in the stomach. He winced and looked nonplussed.
Spock returned to his quarters without further interruption and entered them with an internal sigh of relief. And was stopped by the sight of Jim sleeping peacefully in his bed.
Even as he experienced this fierce contentment that flowed from some deep region of himself, Spock wondered at how events had progressed to this point. It seemed to have happened naturally, professional duties morphing into something deeper and more complex than the captain-first officer dynamic allowed. Before Spock had realized it, he valued his time spent with Captain James T. Kirk much more than he had believed possible and keeping the Captain to himself had become a personal goal.
And now, that goal was fully achieved.
Even as he thought of all this, Jim stirred and slowly opened his eyes, the bright blue of them still hazy with sleep. They focused on Spock in an instant and a lazy, appreciative smile lit up Jim’s face. Spock once again experienced the peculiar tightening of his throat that he had come to associate with the captain.
“Breakfast in bed?” Jim asked, stretching so that his body formed a taut curve on the bed. Spock’s eyes followed the form and marveled. “That’s a definite first for me. Are you sure you’re okay to be running errands though?”
Spock arched an eyebrow.
“If you are referring to the physical vestiges of last night’s activities, I can assure you that Vulcans have a higher resilience than humans in the matter.”
Jim sat up in bed, his smile morphing into something less lazy and more scintillating.
“Want to bet?” he purred, taking the tray from Spock’s hands and setting it aside.
“Captain, there are approximately forty minutes left until the beginning of Alpha shift. Activities of a sexual nature are certain to cause some delay.”
“Mm-hm,” Jim replied, obviously not listening to a word Spock was saying from the way his hands were tugging at Spock’s pants. Spock took hold of those wandering hands and pushed Jim gently back onto the bed, internally reveling in the sight of the Terran loose and warm and golden beneath him. As Jim began to playfully nip at Spock’s earlobes, he resigned himself to being late.
To borrow a common Earth colloquialism, Nyota was never going to let him hear the end of it.
End
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