Oops, I did it AGAIN XD
Title: Carving Out A Moment
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/ Spock
Rating: R / NC-17 (maybe, I dunno)
Summary: Written for the kink meme prompt : Kirk/Spock. Established relationship. Kirk spends a not-so-busy day on the bridge getting constantly distracted by thoughts of Spock. Memories, fantasies, I-can't-wait-tills, all of the above. Maybe it's been a while since they've had any time to themselves and the constant interruptions (work, people showing up at inopportune moments) are driving Kirk nuts.
...And then finally their shifts end and Kirk persuades Spock to not do whatever else he was thinking of doing, and they Make Everyone Else Go Away, and fun sexytimes happen.
I went the long way about filling this one XD
EDIT NOV 16 - much love for daybreaq for pointing out some blatant vocabulary misuse and abuse. XD
I miss you
When he found himself reading the same line in the fuel efficiency report from Engineering for the third time he gave up and just signed his damn name to it. Scotty was a superior Chief Engineer and damned good at his job, he certainly didn't need Kirk mothering every minor tweak to the nacelles. The summary graphs included trended in the right direction and he hadn't heard any significant booms since they'd left space dock.
Since they left Spock at the space dock.
Three days ago.
He lingered on the memory of their rushed goodbye, a stolen moment in the causeway outside the transporter room, hot kisses trailing from his jaw to his collar bone, a strong arm banded across his chest to prevent him from pressing forward and fucking his First Officer into the floor, heedless of the risk of discovery.
He supposed he should be grateful for Spock's inhuman self control. As the days ground on he stopped himself from turning towards the Science station at several points during his shift, eager to share an observation, a joke or to simply drink in the sight of Spock. The junior officer was probably developing a neurosis regarding the aborted comments and seemed to stiffen every time the Captain's chair swivelled towards him. Spock's absence was a tangible thing, every bit as consuming in a way as his presence, (albeit less pleasant) Jim missed him terribly.
Three days and counting. It seemed so much longer.
Between their respective duties and the constant demands of the Enterprise and her crew it had been almost two weeks since they had an uninterrupted evening. Considering the number of times he'd been hailed by Starfleet command with his hands down Spock's pants, it was a minor miracle they'd ever gotten horizontal in the first place.
His lips quirked fondly as he recalled the expression on Spock's face the night he'd finally confessed the ulterior motive behind his sudden fascination with chess...
I see you
Their first month in space was rocky, he could admit that now. Spock had an annoying tendency to question his every decision just at this edge of insubordination. Even worse, the bastard also had a tendency to be infuriatingly correct most of the time. Correct, but not right. Jim would argue that point with his last breath with Spock “failing to discern the difference between the terms” at him until the bitter end.
Certainly, challenging both leaders in a conflict over mining rights to a fist fight in order to gain executive control in the matter wasn't technically in accordance with regs (Starfleet Protocol Section 178.6 re: Conflict Dispute and Resolution on Non-Federation Settlements) but neither was it a flagrant disregard of procedure as Spock insisted (he'd stayed up all night with the damned manual just to be sure).
Besides, he'd won. Starfleet now had first right of refusal to the mineral wealth of Physler II, Physler II now had a stable government and would be petitioning for admission to the Federation within five years and Jim's dislocated shoulder and bruised ribs would heal in no time. A complete victory in his estimation, the means of achievement were moot. Once Bones had released him from sickbay, ears ringing from the lecture, he'd been sure to mention that to Spock. The single eyebrow raise had bordered on disdainful but since you couldn't reprimand an officer for behaviour bordering on disdainful (he'd checked that too after the blow out over the diplomatic clusterfuck on Haers) Jim had let it go.
A year into their mission though, things had settled down. He and the crew were finally starting to encompass their roles instead of merely filling them. He felt connected to each of them, issuing orders with full confidence in their execution. He could tell at a glance if Scotty had dipped too deeply into his mysterious stores of whiskey the night before, if Uhura was struggling to master the dialect of their previous first contact or if Chekov and Sulu were having another disagreement on Russian historical achievements. More importantly, he was able to intuit the right mixture of encouragement and admonishment to soothe the tensions and keep the rhythm of the Enterprise thrumming to the pulse he could feel in his soul.
He'd also grown enough to acknowledge that some of that temperance had been learned by his interactions with his First Officer.
Spock had made the transition from a pain-in-the-ass know-it-all to the bulwark Jim depended on for support. There were still arguments, but as they centred on Jim's insistence on leading the majority of away missions rather than on his ability to command, they were easier to work past.. Jim noticed that even these tapered off once he'd started dragging Spock along. Jim also noticed that he tended to get shot a lot less when Spock was around too. Double win.
Jim continued noticing how much better things were when Spock was around until the day he found himself noticing Spock.
I want you
It wasn't a world altering epiphany or a single moment of revelation but rather a gradual accumulation of shared experiences and common ground. A quiet moment on their first away mission together had led him to realize that Spock shared the same thirst for knowledge and active curiosity about the universe that drove him. It was just their approach that differed.
He'd known from the beginning that Spock had near perfect recall and could break down a seemingly infinite field of raw data into a simple mathematical expression. These were among the primary skills that had inspired him to hold the First Officer position open for him. When he began to understand that the motivation behind these incredibly useful skills wasn't for some enigmatic end game, but rather for the simple joy of knowing, his First Officer became more than a useful resource and the life defining friendship that had existed in another reality became plausible.
With his new found insight he was able to see that beneath the stiffness of his Vulcan heritage, Spock was remarkable. He was unflinchingly honest, dryly humorous, uncompromising in his integrity and, though he valued all sentience as worthy of compassion and consideration, he was able to act decisively to protect anything that threatened his Captain or his crew and the mission they had accepted.
It was this core of unshakable loyalty that tipped Jim from admiration to infatuation. He watched Spock closely and embarked on a covert mission to win his regard. He assigned Spock to every away mission he reasonably could and would often elect to stay behind himself if he couldn't dream up an excuse for his inclusion. He spent his off duty hours researching astrophysics and xenobiology until he surpassed conversant in order to elicit that half raised eyebrow that signified surprised respect from Spock. (Publishing a well received treatise on time displacement and alternate universe theory and earning some more letters after his name was counted as a bonus.) When he'd learned that Spock considered chess to be an excellent form of recreation he'd spent an entire off duty cycle in his quarters playing against the computer, excepting meal times when Bones would appear and drag him off to the Mess to get something to eat.
He was obsessed and would have probably called off the campaign and sent himself to the ship's unofficial counsellor, (read: Bones' brandy supply), if he hadn't busted Spock priming up on warp core mechanics after Jim had agreed to help Scotty with a particularly tricky modification on the M/AM diffusion chamber. That was also the first day he'd gotten Spock to call him Jim and he'd had to erase his personal log entry upon playback due to acute embarrassment.
A shared laugh on the bridge (Jim laughed, Spock lifted an eyebrow) or a quiet interlude on the observation deck looking into the stars had Jim twisting himself in knots and he knew he was fighting a losing battle to the building affection and desire. They were growing closer, true, but the slow bonds of friendship weren't quite enough anymore. He wanted Spock, badly.
***
Their first chess game took place in Recreation Room 2 after a long tedious day of star charting.
Jim was lapsing in his self control and Spock had intercepted one too many speculative glances to go unquestioned.
“Is there something you require, Captain?”
The low even voice sent his blood pooling into his lap and his mostly idle brain froze on an image of himself bending his First Officer over the console of his science station. So really, he was lucky that the first words that flew out of his mouth were about chess instead of, “Mind if I strip you naked and fuck your brains out on the bridge?”
If Spock found it unusual that the Captain had been staring at him intermittently for half of the Alpha shift because he wanted to play chess, he neglected to comment on the matter. They agreed to meet in Rec 2 at 1900 hours. Uhura was perhaps slightly too observant. (He could see her literally holding back a giggle from the corner of his eye.) Jim resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her and returned to droning out coordinate shifts to Chekov.
***
The appointed hour was upon him. As he cleared the entry into Rec 2 , Jim was taken aback by the audience that had gathered to witness: “The Coolly Logical First Officer Face Off Against the Brilliant But Impulsive Captain in a Thrilling Game of Skill and Strategy” (There were flyers. Seriously.) . He'd envisioned a quieter setting, more intimate and allowing for Jim to coax his friend into the relaxed camaraderie he demonstrated when they were alone. He'd wanted to see if he could actually make Spock smile. Sighing inwardly, he set his shoulders and moved into the throng with an easy grin on his face.
He took his seat opposite Spock and offered a conspiring smile.
“Well, Mr. Spock it seems as if we are to be tonight's entertainment.”
“Indeed Captain, I shall endeavour to provide a stimulating encounter for all who are present.”
If it had been anyone other than Spock, Jim would have turned that statement into innuendo filled flirtatious banter. As it was, his blood did that now familiar lap flood and his brain scrolled through an increasingly improbable panorama of scenarios involving him and his First set to the theme of stimulating. Calling up everything he'd learned in his command training about operating efficiently in unfavourable circumstances, he simply offered Spock the white king.
“May the best man win Spock.”
Spock accepted the king with an elegant nod and moved a pawn after a brief consideration. Jim countered immediately and the game was on.
It was a strangely intense affair, the game progressed in near perfect silence with the an undercurrent of familiarity Jim was at a loss to explain. It was as if their rhythm as a command team had carried over onto the board. Spock made his moves with deliberation and tried to adapt his strategy to fit Jim's more decisive plays. Spock captured the first significant piece when he took Jim's bishop with a pawn in a skillful execution of the Pattern of Force. Jim responded by springing the Tholian Web he'd managed to lay undetected and capturing an unprotected knight, thus forcing Spock to initiate a Turnabout to keep himself out of check.
The murmurs of the crowd became white noise and Jim found himself both intensely focused and incredibly aroused by the match. Spock's face was a study in concentration, an almost perfect mask of Vulcan control as his long elegant fingers seemed to caress each piece as he completed every move. Jim had little difficulty imagining those fingers lingering on his body and bit his lip to distract himself from the incredibly diverting tangents his mind kept trying to explore.
He continued his advance and sparked a coy flurry of pursuit and evasion between the white queen and the knight/rook duo he'd managed to navigate through Spock's defences unscathed. Refusing to fall into a Mantrap he recognized from his time with the computer simulations, he was able to capture the queen by sacrificing his rook and slipping his knight past the white bishop.
“Checkmate Mr. Spock.” He tongued the hole he'd bitten into the inside of his cheek and sat back with a smirk. Chess with Spock, he decided, was very... insightful.
“Well won Captain. I am undone by your skill.” Spock met his eyes directly and he could feel the warmth creeping up his neck at the almost open admiration in the dark gaze. Their eyes held for several heartbeats, each growing louder in Jim's ears and the quiet took on a weighty quality.
The building tension was broken by the crew's applause and Jim blinked in surprise. He'd managed to completely forget about their audience. He pushed the moment back for later consideration to accept his congratulations. He laughed when he saw the credits exchanging hands and took note that of his department heads only Scotty and Bones had bet on him.
The celebratory atmosphere stretched on and after an hour of shaking hands and socializing with the crew he was able to make his way over to where Spock had resumed his study of the chess board.
“A rematch Spock?” he offered casually.
“Yes Captain, I found this exchange most rewarding. Perhaps tomorrow evening?”
“Sounds great. Let's move it to my quarters though, I'd rather not have the crew witness my crushing defeat now that you've had a chance to analyze my strategy.”
“I find that hard to believe, Captain, as I was unable to determine any strategy on your part.”
Jim laughed loudly and clapped Spock on the shoulder. “It is agreed then. See you tomorrow Spock.”
“Have a pleasant evening, Captain.”
I need you
Spock would arrive in approximately half an hour for the rematch. His palms were sweaty as he paced his quarters, feeling ridiculous but unable to calm the spikes of nervous energy urging him to keep moving. He wavered between confession and proposition and avoidance in equal measure, his agile (indecisive) mind allowing him to build cases for and against each option.
Confession - He could lay it all on the line. Classic James T Kirk delivery, using every iota of the not inconsiderable charm at his disposal to launch a direct and passionate appeal at the other man. Who was a Vulcan and unlikely to respond to passion.
Proposition - He could outline it with cool reason. Sway Spock with his own tack. They were both unattached and attractive men who seemed capable of maximizing each others potential, surely it was only logical that a sexual relationship would culminate in mutual satisfaction. And if he got Spock drunk enough it was possible that he wouldn't point out the availability of other attractive and unattached men aboard the Enterprise he could seek out for gratification.
Avoidance - He could invite Spock in, play a game of chess and bid him good night. This was good, this was safe. It made sense not to screw this up now that he and Spock were finally getting along. Didn't it? What did it matter if that tight feeling around his chest didn't fade and every encounter with his First Officer left him pining and anxious and raw for hours afterward? He'd get over it. Eventually. Maybe.
He was driving himself crazy. He had ten minutes left to get his shit together before Spock showed up. At this rate he'd be a quivering mess on the floor and his ever efficient XO would end up carrying him to sick bay (file that one away for future fantasies - damn it brain, shut up and let me think) and lay him gibbering at Bones' feet unable to ward off the volley of hypo sprays and tricorder readings. Would he be the first Captain to succumb, not to the void of space or a heroic last stand, but unrequited lust for his First Officer? They'd teach his history to the command cadets as a warning.
He groaned and plopped down at the edge of his bed, toughing his hand through his hair. Enough, he decided and bent his will to the task of stilling his mind. He drew a couple of deep shaky breaths and let the sense of calm begin to permeate his being. He would relax, he would play it by ear and do what felt right.
The door chimed.
Show time.
***
“Enter,” he called out. The door retracted with a soft hiss and Spock strode forward, an austere figure in regulation blacks.
“Good evening Jim. I trust your evening has been satisfactory.”
Jim felt the tension slowly leave his body upon hearing his name in that voice. It felt natural to extend his arm to Spock and exchange pleasantries as he led them to the chess table nestled in the corner of the room.
As the game progressed Jim felt himself relaxing further and his natural gregariousness began to surface. Their conversation meandered as it was wont to and they discussed everything from crew assignments and mission directives to the possibility of co-authoring a paper on the spacial anomalies they'd discovered in their first year out. They discussed the crew, agreeing that Ensign Chekov's work with Scotty on transporter theory deserved a special commendation. Spock expressed a concern on the growing emphasis Security training was placing on death as a means of threat elimination. Jim speculated on the nature of their next first contact and laughed when Spock responded with a pithy remark regarding his ability to provoke even a peaceful people into open assault on his person. They took up their argument over Jim's rather loose interpretation of regulations and the cadence of their dialogue and intimacy of their surroundings took the competitive edge off their game, shifting the pattern of play from the aggressive assault demonstrated last night to a playful exploration.
“I am curious where you learned to play,” Spock remarked after Jim had sprung a trap he'd failed to notice. “Your strategy is most unusual.”
Jim shot him a grin over the board. “So you admit that I have a strategy now, Spock?”
Spock considered this a moment and raised an eyebrow, “To paraphrase the maxim: To embrace no particular strategy is a strategy in itself.”
Jim laughed again, the sound filling his quarters. “Are you implying that I am unable to commit to a course of action?”
Spock studied the chess board seriously for a moment before replying. “I see evidence of several gambits begun and discarded throughout the course of our game. I admit that I am unable to discern the reasoning behind your decisions, effective though they may be.”
“Adaptability,” Jim responded simply.
“I see.” There was no obvious shift in tone or expression, but he could almost hear the idea clicking into place for Spock.“The most valuable trait in a commander is the ability to adapt to new situations and make decisions using the information in his possession. Though your execution is unusual, you are applying this principle to adjust your strategies accordingly as you factor in my likely responses to your actions.”
“It helps that I've come to know you so well,” Jim agreed.
“Indeed. I am still at loss to understand how you determined that this arrangement of defences was sound, however.” The narrow hand gracefully nudged the black queen forward and captured his last rook. “I believe that is checkmate Captain.”
Jim studied the board in wonder. How had he missed that? It seemed that Spock had learned from his example and employed misdirection and distraction to win the match. He settled back and regarded the Vulcan with open affection. His anxiety was gone and the feeling that drifted through him now was contentment. Despite everything, the foundation his feelings were built upon was the simple fact that he outright liked Spock, as a being, as an officer and as a friend. He was beautiful to look at, true. The severe features were as a marble statue come to life and the way that he moved bespoke an elegance of spirit and discipline that drove Jim with the need to unravel the ties of control and make him moan. But beyond that there was nobody Jim would rather have at his side, in a crisis, or a quiet moment.
His decision was made. Confession time. It felt right.
***
There wasn't a perfect moment for this, he realized as the nerves began to rise in him again. It would never be easy for him to show vulnerability but he had to know. One way or the other.
“Do you still want to know where I learned to play chess Spock?” His attempt to sound casual was successful due only to the table hiding the hands that were twisting the fabric of his pants over his thighs.
“I had assumed your avoidance of the question signified discomfort. If you do not wish to share this information with me you are under no obligation to do so.”
“Ah,” he hesitated, not sure why the observation surprised him. “The where isn't the uncomfortable part of the answer. I learned here, in my quarters, playing against the computer.”
“Fascinating. Were you aware that I had reprogrammed the computer simulation to present more of a challenge shortly after I came aboard?”
Jim blinked. Perhaps that had been why Spock's moves had seemed so familiar. “No, I hadn't known that. So in a sense, I guess you taught me everything I know about chess.”
“I admit I was unprepared for your skill when we played previously. Nothing in your academic record indicated an interest or talent in the game.”
“You read my file? To see if I played chess?” Jim was delighted, this was much better than seeing Spock try to hide the warp core manual from him in the Mess.
He swore he saw a flush of green touch the delicate point of the ears as Spock defended his shocking breach of regulations. “It was anomalous that you should be able to defeat me without my being aware that you played. Are you aware that I hold a Grandmaster ranking on Earth?”
“That's - good,”he could feel the conversation beginning to slip away from him somehow.. He flicked his eyes up over to the Vulcan and felt the core of unease forming in the pit of his stomach. Spock was studying him like he was a complex proof with an error at the root preventing him from finding the solution. He'd never considered how the weight of that awesome intellect might feel when focused solely on himself.
He stood abruptly as the tension worked through him. He could do this. He must do this. He would not lose this moment. He turned to face his First Officer and could only stare, every carefully rehearsed word fleeing his mind and running off down the corridor with his dignity in tow. Spock had assumed a posture of active attentiveness, head tilted slightly sideways as he patiently waited for Jim to speak. The moment stretched and they stared at each other, Jim's stomach in his throat as the light caught Spock's features and softened their stark beauty into something artful and alien and untouchable.
“You're beautiful,” he blurted out baldly, inwardly kicking himself for fucking this up so grandly as soon as the words left his lips. This was even worse than the Kobayashi Maru hearing. At least the only thing at stake in that instance had been his career.
“Captain?” Spock allowed the puzzlement to show on his face. He had gone completely still.
Jim flailed about his mind, desperately looking for a way to salvage the situation. Seeing none and realizing he'd crossed the proverbial point of no return, he moved to the edge of his bed and sat, the evening coming full circle.
“I had a speech prepared for this, sort of,” he smiled wryly at his optimistic evaluation of the half formed phrases and fantasies he'd conducted regarding this moment. “Unfortunately your capacity to undermine my plans has not completely vanished.”
Spock continued to regard him steadily, calm patience forcing the words out by virtue of a complete lack of judgment. Perhaps Spock would take him down to sickbay to get his head checked when he was done, but at least he would do him the courtesy of hearing him out before deciding if that was necessary.
“I learned chess for you Spock. So we could spend more time together.” The words were tripping over his tongue and gaining momentum, “ I, uh, got an honorary degree in advanced physics just so we could have something to talk about. If I go on an away mission without you, I feel like I've left half of me behind. You're the greatest friend I've ever known and the more I get to know you, the more I want from you. I want you.”
He paused for breath, and there was nothing in the answering silence to lend him hope. He sagged and tried to offer Spock a way out of the emotional encounter that was probably unsettling to him, though he was too polite to speak if he knew his words would be inflicting damage. (Is that progress? )
“If, ah, if you don't feel the same. I'll understand,” he spoke quickly to counter the stillness after his confession. “This doesn't have to change anything between us Spock. I think you're a remarkable Officer and would be honoured to be counted as your friend . That will never change.” (Oh God, was he giving himself the Let's Be Friends speech? ) “I mean, I'll probably spend a few awkward weeks drunk in sickbay with Bones trying to forget this, but I needed to tell you before I went nuts and tried to jump you on the bridge or something. Not that you have to worry about that! I mean - I would never, unless you- Oh hell, I'm just going to stop talking now OK?”
He felt raw and completely exposed. He looked down at his hands and braced himself for the gentle rejection to come. He supposed in a few days he would come to regard the absence of the weight of unspoken desires with a sense of relief. In a few years he might even be telling this story for laughs in a bar somewhere. Perhaps he and Uhura could bond over Spock being The One That Got Away.
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor brought his head up. Spock was moving towards him with a thoughtful expression on his face. When he knelt by his side in one smooth motion, Jim was certain his eyes were going to fly out of his skull.
“Jim, if I may?” Spock brought his hand to his face and paused until Jim was able to dismiss his paralysis and make himself nod.
“My mind to your mind -”
“My thoughts to your thoughts.”
Jim was no longer alone in his mind, the familiar presence that he relied upon at his back in the field and on the bridge was embodied within him. He perceived the elements of Spock as a silver green shimmer in the chaotic landscape of his brain. He was seeing himself through Spock's eyes and the aspects of his nature he accepted so instinctively took on significance.
He was on the bridge, calmly directing Sulu through an asteroid field and calling instructions down to Engineering on which types of power they needed and when. He'd been too busy at the time to notice that the Vulcan had been watching him so closely, a wave of satisfied admiration flowing through him.
He was in sickbay, sitting on the edge of the bio bed because he refused to lay down, poised as if waiting for his opportunity to flee. McCoy was muttering under his breath as he wound tape around his ribs and a ran a dermal regenerator over the abrasions on his neck and face. He looked bruised and bloodied but still so strong and beautiful.
He was sitting in the mess across from Spock and Bones when their bickering turned to ridiculous. He threw back his head and laughed, the joyful sound resonating through the room and causing every head to turn and every face to share in the happiness for a moment.
He was standing over Spock, phaser in hand, screaming for the security detail to move their asses and get him some cover. His face was fierce and his eyes were blazing with the manic need to protect his people. Every beam of phaser fire disintegrated another enemy and he never once paused to look satisfied, his grim determination never faltering, continuing to fire steadily into the attacking throng even as the projectile entered his shoulder.
He was standing at the Observation Deck, looking out into the vastness of space. When he turned to face Spock his expression was filled with rapt wonder. “It's amazing, isn't it Mr. Spock?” They turned back to face the future in perfect accord.
He was sitting on the edge of the his bed, looking miserable and hopeful at the same time as he forced the words to come. “..greatest friend..” “I want more..” “I want you.” The rush of tenderness swelled to fill his entire being and he was
pulling away, mouth hanging open in shock.
“Spock?”
“Do you see, Jim? This is who you are to me.”
I have you
Jim was staring at his first Officer in considerable wonder. All the months he had struggled to get closer and control the mounting lust he had never really considered that Spock would be conducting a parallel campaign. It was all there, fresh in his mind but fading fast, countless images of himself superimposed and bound together with lust and longing. He only wished that Spock had the opportunity to see himself through Jim's eyes.
He tilted his head and considered Spock through hooded eyes. There was no outward indication in his features of the feelings that had coloured his mind and he was watching Jim patiently waiting for him to make a decision regarding this new information. Jim reached a hand out slowly, reverently and cupped his palm against the warm cheek. Spock turned his face into the touch and closed his eyes, the brush of eyelashes against his fingertip sent a tingle up Jim's arm. He slid to the floor between Spock and the bed and used his body weight to push Spock into a supine position, weight supported by his elbows and looking up at Jim expectantly.
Jim bent his head down, lips parted and breathed deep as he pressed his mouth against Spock's. Spock smelled of warm skin and Starfleet issued non-scented soap, his lips were dry and full beneath his breath was sweet with spice from the Vulcan tea he'd programmed into the synthesizer. The conflagration of sensation had Jim closing his eyes to feel it fully. His tongue slipped past parted lips and dipped into a hot welcoming mouth. He'd clinically known Vulcan body temperature was higher than a human but feeling it pressed against him now, his tongue bathing in it, was incredibly erotic. Spock's tongue was hard and rougher than his own, every brush against it resulted in a frisson of sensation. He slanted his mouth over him again and again, trying for the perfect angle, the perfect intensity. His teeth captured the tip of Spock's tongue and he sucked lightly, revelling in the sharp exhale pushing soundlessly past his lips.
Jim pulled back and his teeth caught the full bottom lip and bit down with just enough pressure to flick Spock's eyes open. His was panting lightly over him, his eyes moving over his face, trying to memorize the picture of flushed cheeks and parted lips and mussed hair. He ran his hands through the sleek cap of hair, letting the thick strands slide like water through his fingers and felt Spock's hands caress over his legs to rest in a soft grip at his hips. He ground down lightly, scanning the features and his eyes fluttered closed as warm fingers worked their way under his shirt and explored his chest and stomach. He leaned down, groaning as his erection slid across Spock's and pressed his mouth against the long column of throat that was exposed for him.
He wanted to linger here forever, tasting the spot where Spock's neck met his strong jaw and the soft lobe of a pointed ear brushed his lips until it was the only flavour he could remember. He felt Spock shudder beneath him as he breathed in and tested the tip his tongue to the shell of the ear, working a slow path to the point. Neatly trimmed nails scraped down his chest and Spock bucked his hips up sending a pulsing wave of heat through Jim's groin and into his belly. His hands tightened their grip in Spock's hair, pinning his head to the side as Jim's teeth nipped their way down to his collar bone.
Spock's fisted his shirt and began to tug insistently, Jim leaned back from his assault and was quickly divested of both command tunic and undershirt in one jerk. The air had only a second to cool his skin before inhumanly strong arms reached up and Jim found himself pulled and pinned beneath his First Officer. His laugh bubbled out at the unexpected show of aggression and dissolved into a moan as Spock's clever fingers began working at the ties of his pants.
“You will lift your hips now, Jim,” Spock's eyes were serious and gleaming with intent as they bored into his. He didn't want to do anything but obey that low command and obligingly allowed his pants to be skimmed efficiently down his legs and tossed across the room. He thought he could dimly hear them thunk against the wall but his focus was forcibly caught by Spock levering himself down and sucking his chest, just over his heart, with enough force to raise a welt. He shook himself against the sensation and his hands fumbled over the fabric of the blue tunic as he clumsily tried to raise it over the head working a an efficient path down his torso. Spock shrugged his shoulders up to allow Jim his shirt, returning to his determined exploration with his tongue and teeth as soon the collar cleared his jaw. The heat of the white skin minus the dampening barrier of clothing combined with the soft licks and hard bites had Jim writhing. Every time he tried to surge up and return the heated caresses one of those strong arms would press his chest firmly into floor.
Spock, it seemed, had waited long enough and was determined to play the scene he had imagined with his Captain, here and now, free of any influence or interference. Jim's hands were clenching reflexively at his sides as his body was stroked and burned. His breaths were coming in harsh gasps between clenched teeth as he tried to control the intensity of his reactions. He swore he would come any second now and Spock's mouth has just begun to puff hot breath over his hips.
“Spock,” he clenched out. “You're driving me crazy. Let me touch you.”
The eyebrow raise was definitely amused beneath the desire, “I do not predict any danger to you, Jim. I expect that you are capable of bearing this.” He bowed his head again and his tongue traced the outline of a hipbone. Jim had a brief moment to think that it had been the sexiest no he'd ever heard before his mind erupted into a cacophony of burning pleasure and straining lust. Spock's tongue was working up the side of his arousal and the hot wet trail cooled rapidly in the air as it moved forward, the conflicting temperatures had him thrusting and thrashing beneath the pressure of Spock's weight. His sharp cry echoed against the walls as Spock pulled him fully into his mouth and his vision went white, then grey as his entire body tensed and pushed forward all at once.
He opened his eyes to the unbelievable sight of Spock leaning over him and smiling (smiling!) softly. Sure, it was only the slightest uptick of the corner of his mouth but on Spock it might have well have been a face splitting grin. A part of him noted distantly that not only was he still shuddering but that his First Officer looked decidedly smug about the whole affair.
“Spock,” he gasped. “I-” The words were broken off by another wave of pleasure and he sagged boneless into the floor.
“Hush Jim, I have you.”
“Did you-?”
The other side of Spock's mouth curled up a fraction and he bent to press a chaste kiss against Jim's forehead. Dry humour coloured the low voice as Spock murmured, “You are aware of course, that I am a touch telepath?”
“Oh.” Jim paused.
“Oh.”
I love you
After that first time the Universe seemed to conspire against them. Between back to back missions through hostile space and diplomatic transports requiring them to work opposite shifts, slow gentle explorations devolved into frantic couplings in whatever space they were able to find themselves alone.
An impromptu trip to Engineering to check on his M/AM diffusion mods provided an opportunity to pull Spock between cooling chambers and slam him up against the glass tubes, fucking his mouth with his tongue as hard as he could. The warm hands had just reached up to cradle his hips and yank them closer when the klaxons sounded the alert drill he'd forgotten had been scheduled.
The Klingons had effectively killed their brief shore leave tryst by initiating a mineral raid on a small planet at the outskirts of the Neutral Zone. A small planet where Jim and Spock had been staying. The resulting imprisonment and rebellion had left little time for seduction. (Prison sex though. Hot. And since he'd initiated that particular encounter as a distraction, he had nobody to blame but himself when it had worked and left him frustrated. Again.)
The best times were when Spock lost it, usually after Jim pulled some heroic (illogical/boneheaded) stunt, and pinned him against a convenient wall to rip his uniform off and go over every inch of his body with hot hands and mouth to determine if he really was fine. Bones never said anything, but the fact that sickbay seemed to be mysteriously clear for the twenty minutes just before the Captain was released was taken as tacit permission by them both.
Jim also had particularly fond memories of the supply closet on deck 12 where the cramped surroundings had forced them to twist and flow around each other like oil and water. He'd had no idea Spock could bend like that.
His mind began to examine the possibilities and he had to force back the flush when Uhura called him.
“Sir, we are being hailed by shuttle craft Columbus.”
Finally. Spock was coming home.
“Patch it to the screen, Lieutenant.” He was not squirming in the captain's chair with anticipation. Absolutely was not squirming. Or blushing. The relieved smile that spread across his face, that he would concede.
Uhura smiled at him knowingly, and with a few deft manipulations of comm controls, Spock's face appeared on the main screen. He looked amazing, if a little tired. When his dark eyes stared into his Jim felt a sense of peace flow through for the first time in three incredibly long, boring days.
“Greetings, Mr. Spock.” His voice was commanding and steady, masking that all he wanted to do was blurt out how much he'd missed his Vulcan. “I trust the repairs went well?”
“Indeed, Captain. The malfunction was resulting from a faulty ground. While tedious to locate, the repair was facile and I was able to conclude my business earlier than anticipated. I will be within docking range in approximately 5.4 minutes.”
“Very well Mr Spock, we will alert the shuttle bay and prepare to receive you.”
Spock inclined his head slightly. “Thank you Captain. I will continue on my current course.”
Jim flashed a grin. “You do that. Kirk out. End transmission, Lieutenant Uhura.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He didn't quite leap from his seat. “Very well, I shall proceed to the shuttle bay to debrief Commander Spock. Sulu, you have the Conn.”
He strode purposefully to the turbolift after he received Sulu's acknowledgment. When the doors shut behind him with a decisive click he allowed his smile to take over his entire face. Spock was home two days earlier than anticipated. Their latest orders had them en route to a resupply mission that was still close to a week away at cruising speed. Life was looking pretty close to perfect right about now.
He was spoiled for choice in what he wanted to do first, or rather where he wanted to do it. Molesting Spock in the shuttle bay was probably out since there were likely to be a few wide eyed engineering ensigns milling about. While he wasn't as hard nosed as most commanders on maintaining the strictest discipline between ranks, even he had some boundaries. On occasion. Well, Spock did anyways. He looked around the 'lift and ran a finger over the support railing, feeling the smooth metal heat beneath his palm. He rested some weight on it in contemplation. They'd yet to try the turbolift since Spock was reluctant to abuse their command overrides for the security cameras just to score a quickie. Perhaps his absence had been enough to make him reconsider his rigid stance on the matter.
Excited expectation pushed him out of the 'lift as soon as the doors hissed opened. He moved briskly to the docking bay and stood as patiently as he was able at the airlock. The bay doors opened into space and he watched as the sleek shuttle craft slid smoothly into dock, expert piloting making the manoeuvre seem effortless as the landing struts extended and locked on the deck. At a signal from the attending Engineer, the bay doors swirled shut and the oxygen compression system snapped back online with a low buzz.
Protocol dictated the bulkhead between the airlock and the shuttle deck remained closed for an additional minute after successful pressurization,allowing for oxygen saturation. Jim stood as close as he could to the large porthole without pressing against it and watched the Columbus, trying to bore his gaze (through the titanium sheets slabbed over a composite carbon/titanium alloy skeleton) to where his First Officer would be waiting by the shuttle hatch, instinctively aware of the passing of time whereas Jim was keeping count in his head.
5..4..3..2..1
The bulkhead released and retracted with a whirr and grind of sliding metal. Jim cleared the entryway before the partition had fully withdrawn and was striding across the deck as the shuttle hatch descended with a loud clang. His footsteps echoed to the pulse beating in his chest and he stopped just shy of the inclined steps to smile up at Spock.
He had no Captain-y words of greeting at the ready to congratulate him on his successful journey, no proper speech to welcome him back aboard prepared. Just a blinding smile and simple joy threading through his voice. It was enough.
“Welcome home, Spock.”
Spock's tired face lightened as he regarded Jim. He inclined his head regally and made his way down the steps. He extended a hand in a Vulcan kiss and Jim pressed their first two fingers together lightly, rubbing as he pulled away. The shock of pleasure vibrated up his entire arm as Spock allowed him to feel a portion of his relief and regard.
“I am satisfied to return, Captain.”
Jim's grin took on a predatory cast, “Yes, Mr. Spock. I predict your return will prove eminently satisfying.”
Spock chose to ignore this as they walked in tandem to the exit.
***
Jim's grand plans for immediate satisfaction, preferably in his quarters (or Spock's... or on that soft couch on the Observation Deck.. or the deserted causeway between Maintenance and Sanitation), were not to be. The moment they cleared the bulkhead two young science officers materialized and snapped a sharp salute.
“Captain. Commander Spock,” the older of the two ventured.
“Ensign Matheson. Ensign Harris.” Jim acknowledged with a nod, brain supplying their names through a surge of frustration which he managed to keep out of his voice via sheer will. “At ease gentlemen.”
“Sir.” The two ensigns shifted to parade rest in perfect unison. Jim suppressed an amused snort and gestured for them to continue.
Harris turned to face Spock directly, “Commander Spock, sir, we've encountered some difficulties with the sensor readings in Biolab 13. The experiment is near conclusion and the read outs just don't make any sense.”
“Have you attempted recalibration?”
Ensign Matheson nodded quickly. “Sir, yes. It was the first thing we tried. The instruments seem to be in order but there is a flaw in the data processing that is throwing all of our calculations out. If we don't fix this issue we'll have to delay the experiment until next time we can return to Ganymede Sector for fresh samples.”
“That would be unfortunate. If you will pardon me, Captain?”
Jim waved him on. “Very well Mr. Spock. Report to my quarters for your debriefing when the matter has been resolved.”
“Acknowledged Captain.”
Jim mostly avoided watching the way his hips swayed before he turned away and returned to the bridge.
***
The alert chimed at exactly 1900.
“Enter.”
Jim craned his head from his upright sprawl on the bed to afford him a better look as the door pulled back to reveal his First Officer.
“Everything go OK in the lab?”
“Yes, Jim. I was able to locate the source of the anomaly and the experiment will conclude tomorrow evening as scheduled.”
“Good, that's good. Come here Spock, I need to touch you.”
Watching his Vulcan glide across the room heightened Jim's awareness. He was already half sitting when Spock reached the bed and his arms snaked up to wrap around that neck and pull him down on top of him. The heat of their breath mingling and wet sounds of their kisses sparked the anticipatory passion that had been welling in Jim for three days. He groaned into Spock's mouth and drew back slightly.
“I missed you Spock,” he kept his voice low as if afraid of shattering this perfect moment.
“Indeed, Jim. Your absence was not without impact on myself either.”
Jim's mouth quirked up. “If that's how you say you missed me I can't wait to hear your response when I tell you that I love you.”
Spock parted his lips in surprise. Whatever response he was formulating to go with the tender expression in his eyes was lost when Jim's communicator began beeping frantically.
Wasn't there a commendation for Exercising Restraint Under Extreme Provocation that he was eligible to receive right about fucking now?
“Kirk here.”
“Aye Captain, Scotty here.”
“What is it Commander Scott?”
“I think ye'd better get down here Cap'n. We've got some wee fluctuations in the warp core an' I could use a steady set o' hands right about now to stabilize 'er, sir.”
“I'm on my way. Kirk out.”
Spock's face had resumed a placid neutrality and the moment was gone.
“Wait for me?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Jim gave him a grateful smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
***
It was past 2300 hours when he returned to his quarters, dishevelled and caked in grease and sweat. The leak, though minor, had required a sub containment field to be repaired. They'd been successful after hours of grunting and sweating beneath the bowels of the warp core, he and Scotty working in silent unity in a delicate surgery on the heart of their lady.
Spock was meditating against the wall, a serene figure watching him with glittering eyes as he stepped into the room.
“Hi honey, I'm home.” The good humour was taxed by the loud popping of his spine as he stretched out the kinks he'd earned this evening. He was sore and tired and desperately in need of a shower.
“You were able to resolve the situation with the warp core?”
Jim nodded tiredly as he bent to remove his boots. He stumbled slightly as he toed them off and leaned against the wall for a moment, allowing the wave of bone deep exhaustion to pass. He stripped off his filthy tunic and deposited it into the laundry chute. Material sliding over the scrapes on his knuckles elicited a small wince. He was fumbling with the ties to his slacks when a pair of warm hands closed over his.
“Let me assist you.” The words were breathed into his ear. He closed his eyes and let himself relax a moment within the circle of warm arms.. His head fell back to rest on Spock's shoulder and he turned his face into his neck and breathed in.
“I'm getting you all dirty,” he murmured as the hands deftly loosed his pants and skimmed the fabric down over his hips to pool at his feet.
“Hush Jim, it is of no matter. Step now.”
Jim obeyed, lifting first one leg then another, limbs heavy with fatigue. Spock bent down to gather the clothing and he was unable to work the suggestion of what else he could be doing down there past his yawn.
Spock removed his own uniform with exacting precision and a complete lack of modesty before leading Jim into their shared bathroom and to the shower. He sat on the toilet and watched Spock test the water temperature, somewhat bemused. A measure of his tiredness had dissipated in the presence of his First..
“I could get used to this,” he said fondly when Spock offered him a hand up and pulled him into the hot water. “You take good care of me Mr. Spock.”
Spock stepped into the shower with him and slid the door to a close. “Indeed, Captain. To quote Doctor McCoy, it seems as though somebody must.” He lifted a washcloth filled with soap and began to work away at the grit embedded in the skin of Jim's arms and hands.
Jim closed his eyes and leaned against the enclosure, submitting himself fully to Spock's gentle ministrations. The firm, efficient circles rubbing him clean fanned a steady banked warmth at his core.
They stood in silence beneath the warm jets of water as Spock slowly worked the washcloth over Jim's body. Strong hands nudged him to face wall and he groaned as Spock began applying pressure in the strokes to work out the knots of tension across his back and shoulders. Jim leaned back into the touch, bare flesh encountering bare flesh and sending a flash of arousal through him and a keening moan from his lips. Spock's hands were continuing their massage down the curve of his ass and the strokes gradually became less firm and more caressing. He could feel Spock hard against him and light licks of passion threaded into him.
“Spock.” He rasped the name out and pushed back to rub against the heat. His exhaustion was forgotten as Spock craned his neck down to suck at Jim's neck. A clever hand worked a tracing path to his erection and he was caught in a hot, firm stroke.
“I missed you, T'hy'la.” The words were spoken tight against his neck and he shivered as the low growl vibrated up his skin. He was fully erect now, rocking into the fist and unwilling to stop the panting moans forming in his throat.
“Spock,” his breaths were gasping, struggling against the thick steam forming and the weight of passion. Fingers slicked with soap were playing at his entrance, flicking and stretching until he was sobbing for the firm pressure thrusting into him. He cried out as he was possessed and he arched back into Spock, turning his head to find the hot mouth and communicate every blazing surge of lust and desire and love streaking through him by way of his lips and teeth and tongue alone.
Spock was purring his name into his mouth, a frenzied mantra punctuating every thrust and stroke.
“Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim.” His heart was racing in time and felt himself begin to unravel. Ripping his lips away from Spock, his shout of release echoed around them as his body stiffened and hot spurts of semen were washed down the drain.
Spock's arms banded around his waist to prevent his collapse and he held Jim a willing captive to his possessive thrusts. He came with his teeth clamped down on the back of Jim's neck and sagged them both to leaning into the wall.
Running water and harsh breathing were the only sounds for long moments as they recovered. Jim stirred first, pushing up lightly against the dead weight of sated Vulcan pressed against his back.
“I think we'd better get out of here before we drown, Spock.”
Spock shuddered once against him before speaking. “A moment, Jim. It appears my legs are not yet capable of bearing my weight.” He did, however, move his hand up to slap heavily at the water control, shutting it off on the second attempt.
When they were both able to move again, under their own power, they stumbled out of the bathroom and into Jim's bed.
Jim pressed against the warm body and tucked his head under Spock's chin. Sleepy satisfaction filled him completely and he whispered, “I love you Spock.”
The arm lazily stroking up his arm tightened and pulled him closer. “I love you too, Jim.” The simple words in that low voice were the perfect thing to accompany Jim into his well earned slumber.
The red alert was almost anticlimactic.
Finis
A/N : And there we have the longest thing I have ever written. I had trouble with sexy!chess metaphor and part 5 should have happened in part 4 but the angst and the mindmeld sort of came out of nowhere *facepalm* There was an undignified WHOOHOO bursting from me when they finally decided to get it on XD
And the Deleted Prison Sex scene now exists~! XD
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/ Spock
Rating: R / NC-17 (maybe, I dunno)
Summary: Written for the kink meme prompt : Kirk/Spock. Established relationship. Kirk spends a not-so-busy day on the bridge getting constantly distracted by thoughts of Spock. Memories, fantasies, I-can't-wait-tills, all of the above. Maybe it's been a while since they've had any time to themselves and the constant interruptions (work, people showing up at inopportune moments) are driving Kirk nuts.
...And then finally their shifts end and Kirk persuades Spock to not do whatever else he was thinking of doing, and they Make Everyone Else Go Away, and fun sexytimes happen.
I went the long way about filling this one XD
EDIT NOV 16 - much love for daybreaq for pointing out some blatant vocabulary misuse and abuse. XD
I miss you
When he found himself reading the same line in the fuel efficiency report from Engineering for the third time he gave up and just signed his damn name to it. Scotty was a superior Chief Engineer and damned good at his job, he certainly didn't need Kirk mothering every minor tweak to the nacelles. The summary graphs included trended in the right direction and he hadn't heard any significant booms since they'd left space dock.
Since they left Spock at the space dock.
Three days ago.
He lingered on the memory of their rushed goodbye, a stolen moment in the causeway outside the transporter room, hot kisses trailing from his jaw to his collar bone, a strong arm banded across his chest to prevent him from pressing forward and fucking his First Officer into the floor, heedless of the risk of discovery.
He supposed he should be grateful for Spock's inhuman self control. As the days ground on he stopped himself from turning towards the Science station at several points during his shift, eager to share an observation, a joke or to simply drink in the sight of Spock. The junior officer was probably developing a neurosis regarding the aborted comments and seemed to stiffen every time the Captain's chair swivelled towards him. Spock's absence was a tangible thing, every bit as consuming in a way as his presence, (albeit less pleasant) Jim missed him terribly.
Three days and counting. It seemed so much longer.
Between their respective duties and the constant demands of the Enterprise and her crew it had been almost two weeks since they had an uninterrupted evening. Considering the number of times he'd been hailed by Starfleet command with his hands down Spock's pants, it was a minor miracle they'd ever gotten horizontal in the first place.
His lips quirked fondly as he recalled the expression on Spock's face the night he'd finally confessed the ulterior motive behind his sudden fascination with chess...
I see you
Their first month in space was rocky, he could admit that now. Spock had an annoying tendency to question his every decision just at this edge of insubordination. Even worse, the bastard also had a tendency to be infuriatingly correct most of the time. Correct, but not right. Jim would argue that point with his last breath with Spock “failing to discern the difference between the terms” at him until the bitter end.
Certainly, challenging both leaders in a conflict over mining rights to a fist fight in order to gain executive control in the matter wasn't technically in accordance with regs (Starfleet Protocol Section 178.6 re: Conflict Dispute and Resolution on Non-Federation Settlements) but neither was it a flagrant disregard of procedure as Spock insisted (he'd stayed up all night with the damned manual just to be sure).
Besides, he'd won. Starfleet now had first right of refusal to the mineral wealth of Physler II, Physler II now had a stable government and would be petitioning for admission to the Federation within five years and Jim's dislocated shoulder and bruised ribs would heal in no time. A complete victory in his estimation, the means of achievement were moot. Once Bones had released him from sickbay, ears ringing from the lecture, he'd been sure to mention that to Spock. The single eyebrow raise had bordered on disdainful but since you couldn't reprimand an officer for behaviour bordering on disdainful (he'd checked that too after the blow out over the diplomatic clusterfuck on Haers) Jim had let it go.
A year into their mission though, things had settled down. He and the crew were finally starting to encompass their roles instead of merely filling them. He felt connected to each of them, issuing orders with full confidence in their execution. He could tell at a glance if Scotty had dipped too deeply into his mysterious stores of whiskey the night before, if Uhura was struggling to master the dialect of their previous first contact or if Chekov and Sulu were having another disagreement on Russian historical achievements. More importantly, he was able to intuit the right mixture of encouragement and admonishment to soothe the tensions and keep the rhythm of the Enterprise thrumming to the pulse he could feel in his soul.
He'd also grown enough to acknowledge that some of that temperance had been learned by his interactions with his First Officer.
Spock had made the transition from a pain-in-the-ass know-it-all to the bulwark Jim depended on for support. There were still arguments, but as they centred on Jim's insistence on leading the majority of away missions rather than on his ability to command, they were easier to work past.. Jim noticed that even these tapered off once he'd started dragging Spock along. Jim also noticed that he tended to get shot a lot less when Spock was around too. Double win.
Jim continued noticing how much better things were when Spock was around until the day he found himself noticing Spock.
I want you
It wasn't a world altering epiphany or a single moment of revelation but rather a gradual accumulation of shared experiences and common ground. A quiet moment on their first away mission together had led him to realize that Spock shared the same thirst for knowledge and active curiosity about the universe that drove him. It was just their approach that differed.
He'd known from the beginning that Spock had near perfect recall and could break down a seemingly infinite field of raw data into a simple mathematical expression. These were among the primary skills that had inspired him to hold the First Officer position open for him. When he began to understand that the motivation behind these incredibly useful skills wasn't for some enigmatic end game, but rather for the simple joy of knowing, his First Officer became more than a useful resource and the life defining friendship that had existed in another reality became plausible.
With his new found insight he was able to see that beneath the stiffness of his Vulcan heritage, Spock was remarkable. He was unflinchingly honest, dryly humorous, uncompromising in his integrity and, though he valued all sentience as worthy of compassion and consideration, he was able to act decisively to protect anything that threatened his Captain or his crew and the mission they had accepted.
It was this core of unshakable loyalty that tipped Jim from admiration to infatuation. He watched Spock closely and embarked on a covert mission to win his regard. He assigned Spock to every away mission he reasonably could and would often elect to stay behind himself if he couldn't dream up an excuse for his inclusion. He spent his off duty hours researching astrophysics and xenobiology until he surpassed conversant in order to elicit that half raised eyebrow that signified surprised respect from Spock. (Publishing a well received treatise on time displacement and alternate universe theory and earning some more letters after his name was counted as a bonus.) When he'd learned that Spock considered chess to be an excellent form of recreation he'd spent an entire off duty cycle in his quarters playing against the computer, excepting meal times when Bones would appear and drag him off to the Mess to get something to eat.
He was obsessed and would have probably called off the campaign and sent himself to the ship's unofficial counsellor, (read: Bones' brandy supply), if he hadn't busted Spock priming up on warp core mechanics after Jim had agreed to help Scotty with a particularly tricky modification on the M/AM diffusion chamber. That was also the first day he'd gotten Spock to call him Jim and he'd had to erase his personal log entry upon playback due to acute embarrassment.
A shared laugh on the bridge (Jim laughed, Spock lifted an eyebrow) or a quiet interlude on the observation deck looking into the stars had Jim twisting himself in knots and he knew he was fighting a losing battle to the building affection and desire. They were growing closer, true, but the slow bonds of friendship weren't quite enough anymore. He wanted Spock, badly.
***
Their first chess game took place in Recreation Room 2 after a long tedious day of star charting.
Jim was lapsing in his self control and Spock had intercepted one too many speculative glances to go unquestioned.
“Is there something you require, Captain?”
The low even voice sent his blood pooling into his lap and his mostly idle brain froze on an image of himself bending his First Officer over the console of his science station. So really, he was lucky that the first words that flew out of his mouth were about chess instead of, “Mind if I strip you naked and fuck your brains out on the bridge?”
If Spock found it unusual that the Captain had been staring at him intermittently for half of the Alpha shift because he wanted to play chess, he neglected to comment on the matter. They agreed to meet in Rec 2 at 1900 hours. Uhura was perhaps slightly too observant. (He could see her literally holding back a giggle from the corner of his eye.) Jim resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her and returned to droning out coordinate shifts to Chekov.
***
The appointed hour was upon him. As he cleared the entry into Rec 2 , Jim was taken aback by the audience that had gathered to witness: “The Coolly Logical First Officer Face Off Against the Brilliant But Impulsive Captain in a Thrilling Game of Skill and Strategy” (There were flyers. Seriously.) . He'd envisioned a quieter setting, more intimate and allowing for Jim to coax his friend into the relaxed camaraderie he demonstrated when they were alone. He'd wanted to see if he could actually make Spock smile. Sighing inwardly, he set his shoulders and moved into the throng with an easy grin on his face.
He took his seat opposite Spock and offered a conspiring smile.
“Well, Mr. Spock it seems as if we are to be tonight's entertainment.”
“Indeed Captain, I shall endeavour to provide a stimulating encounter for all who are present.”
If it had been anyone other than Spock, Jim would have turned that statement into innuendo filled flirtatious banter. As it was, his blood did that now familiar lap flood and his brain scrolled through an increasingly improbable panorama of scenarios involving him and his First set to the theme of stimulating. Calling up everything he'd learned in his command training about operating efficiently in unfavourable circumstances, he simply offered Spock the white king.
“May the best man win Spock.”
Spock accepted the king with an elegant nod and moved a pawn after a brief consideration. Jim countered immediately and the game was on.
It was a strangely intense affair, the game progressed in near perfect silence with the an undercurrent of familiarity Jim was at a loss to explain. It was as if their rhythm as a command team had carried over onto the board. Spock made his moves with deliberation and tried to adapt his strategy to fit Jim's more decisive plays. Spock captured the first significant piece when he took Jim's bishop with a pawn in a skillful execution of the Pattern of Force. Jim responded by springing the Tholian Web he'd managed to lay undetected and capturing an unprotected knight, thus forcing Spock to initiate a Turnabout to keep himself out of check.
The murmurs of the crowd became white noise and Jim found himself both intensely focused and incredibly aroused by the match. Spock's face was a study in concentration, an almost perfect mask of Vulcan control as his long elegant fingers seemed to caress each piece as he completed every move. Jim had little difficulty imagining those fingers lingering on his body and bit his lip to distract himself from the incredibly diverting tangents his mind kept trying to explore.
He continued his advance and sparked a coy flurry of pursuit and evasion between the white queen and the knight/rook duo he'd managed to navigate through Spock's defences unscathed. Refusing to fall into a Mantrap he recognized from his time with the computer simulations, he was able to capture the queen by sacrificing his rook and slipping his knight past the white bishop.
“Checkmate Mr. Spock.” He tongued the hole he'd bitten into the inside of his cheek and sat back with a smirk. Chess with Spock, he decided, was very... insightful.
“Well won Captain. I am undone by your skill.” Spock met his eyes directly and he could feel the warmth creeping up his neck at the almost open admiration in the dark gaze. Their eyes held for several heartbeats, each growing louder in Jim's ears and the quiet took on a weighty quality.
The building tension was broken by the crew's applause and Jim blinked in surprise. He'd managed to completely forget about their audience. He pushed the moment back for later consideration to accept his congratulations. He laughed when he saw the credits exchanging hands and took note that of his department heads only Scotty and Bones had bet on him.
The celebratory atmosphere stretched on and after an hour of shaking hands and socializing with the crew he was able to make his way over to where Spock had resumed his study of the chess board.
“A rematch Spock?” he offered casually.
“Yes Captain, I found this exchange most rewarding. Perhaps tomorrow evening?”
“Sounds great. Let's move it to my quarters though, I'd rather not have the crew witness my crushing defeat now that you've had a chance to analyze my strategy.”
“I find that hard to believe, Captain, as I was unable to determine any strategy on your part.”
Jim laughed loudly and clapped Spock on the shoulder. “It is agreed then. See you tomorrow Spock.”
“Have a pleasant evening, Captain.”
I need you
Spock would arrive in approximately half an hour for the rematch. His palms were sweaty as he paced his quarters, feeling ridiculous but unable to calm the spikes of nervous energy urging him to keep moving. He wavered between confession and proposition and avoidance in equal measure, his agile (indecisive) mind allowing him to build cases for and against each option.
Confession - He could lay it all on the line. Classic James T Kirk delivery, using every iota of the not inconsiderable charm at his disposal to launch a direct and passionate appeal at the other man. Who was a Vulcan and unlikely to respond to passion.
Proposition - He could outline it with cool reason. Sway Spock with his own tack. They were both unattached and attractive men who seemed capable of maximizing each others potential, surely it was only logical that a sexual relationship would culminate in mutual satisfaction. And if he got Spock drunk enough it was possible that he wouldn't point out the availability of other attractive and unattached men aboard the Enterprise he could seek out for gratification.
Avoidance - He could invite Spock in, play a game of chess and bid him good night. This was good, this was safe. It made sense not to screw this up now that he and Spock were finally getting along. Didn't it? What did it matter if that tight feeling around his chest didn't fade and every encounter with his First Officer left him pining and anxious and raw for hours afterward? He'd get over it. Eventually. Maybe.
He was driving himself crazy. He had ten minutes left to get his shit together before Spock showed up. At this rate he'd be a quivering mess on the floor and his ever efficient XO would end up carrying him to sick bay (file that one away for future fantasies - damn it brain, shut up and let me think) and lay him gibbering at Bones' feet unable to ward off the volley of hypo sprays and tricorder readings. Would he be the first Captain to succumb, not to the void of space or a heroic last stand, but unrequited lust for his First Officer? They'd teach his history to the command cadets as a warning.
He groaned and plopped down at the edge of his bed, toughing his hand through his hair. Enough, he decided and bent his will to the task of stilling his mind. He drew a couple of deep shaky breaths and let the sense of calm begin to permeate his being. He would relax, he would play it by ear and do what felt right.
The door chimed.
Show time.
***
“Enter,” he called out. The door retracted with a soft hiss and Spock strode forward, an austere figure in regulation blacks.
“Good evening Jim. I trust your evening has been satisfactory.”
Jim felt the tension slowly leave his body upon hearing his name in that voice. It felt natural to extend his arm to Spock and exchange pleasantries as he led them to the chess table nestled in the corner of the room.
As the game progressed Jim felt himself relaxing further and his natural gregariousness began to surface. Their conversation meandered as it was wont to and they discussed everything from crew assignments and mission directives to the possibility of co-authoring a paper on the spacial anomalies they'd discovered in their first year out. They discussed the crew, agreeing that Ensign Chekov's work with Scotty on transporter theory deserved a special commendation. Spock expressed a concern on the growing emphasis Security training was placing on death as a means of threat elimination. Jim speculated on the nature of their next first contact and laughed when Spock responded with a pithy remark regarding his ability to provoke even a peaceful people into open assault on his person. They took up their argument over Jim's rather loose interpretation of regulations and the cadence of their dialogue and intimacy of their surroundings took the competitive edge off their game, shifting the pattern of play from the aggressive assault demonstrated last night to a playful exploration.
“I am curious where you learned to play,” Spock remarked after Jim had sprung a trap he'd failed to notice. “Your strategy is most unusual.”
Jim shot him a grin over the board. “So you admit that I have a strategy now, Spock?”
Spock considered this a moment and raised an eyebrow, “To paraphrase the maxim: To embrace no particular strategy is a strategy in itself.”
Jim laughed again, the sound filling his quarters. “Are you implying that I am unable to commit to a course of action?”
Spock studied the chess board seriously for a moment before replying. “I see evidence of several gambits begun and discarded throughout the course of our game. I admit that I am unable to discern the reasoning behind your decisions, effective though they may be.”
“Adaptability,” Jim responded simply.
“I see.” There was no obvious shift in tone or expression, but he could almost hear the idea clicking into place for Spock.“The most valuable trait in a commander is the ability to adapt to new situations and make decisions using the information in his possession. Though your execution is unusual, you are applying this principle to adjust your strategies accordingly as you factor in my likely responses to your actions.”
“It helps that I've come to know you so well,” Jim agreed.
“Indeed. I am still at loss to understand how you determined that this arrangement of defences was sound, however.” The narrow hand gracefully nudged the black queen forward and captured his last rook. “I believe that is checkmate Captain.”
Jim studied the board in wonder. How had he missed that? It seemed that Spock had learned from his example and employed misdirection and distraction to win the match. He settled back and regarded the Vulcan with open affection. His anxiety was gone and the feeling that drifted through him now was contentment. Despite everything, the foundation his feelings were built upon was the simple fact that he outright liked Spock, as a being, as an officer and as a friend. He was beautiful to look at, true. The severe features were as a marble statue come to life and the way that he moved bespoke an elegance of spirit and discipline that drove Jim with the need to unravel the ties of control and make him moan. But beyond that there was nobody Jim would rather have at his side, in a crisis, or a quiet moment.
His decision was made. Confession time. It felt right.
***
There wasn't a perfect moment for this, he realized as the nerves began to rise in him again. It would never be easy for him to show vulnerability but he had to know. One way or the other.
“Do you still want to know where I learned to play chess Spock?” His attempt to sound casual was successful due only to the table hiding the hands that were twisting the fabric of his pants over his thighs.
“I had assumed your avoidance of the question signified discomfort. If you do not wish to share this information with me you are under no obligation to do so.”
“Ah,” he hesitated, not sure why the observation surprised him. “The where isn't the uncomfortable part of the answer. I learned here, in my quarters, playing against the computer.”
“Fascinating. Were you aware that I had reprogrammed the computer simulation to present more of a challenge shortly after I came aboard?”
Jim blinked. Perhaps that had been why Spock's moves had seemed so familiar. “No, I hadn't known that. So in a sense, I guess you taught me everything I know about chess.”
“I admit I was unprepared for your skill when we played previously. Nothing in your academic record indicated an interest or talent in the game.”
“You read my file? To see if I played chess?” Jim was delighted, this was much better than seeing Spock try to hide the warp core manual from him in the Mess.
He swore he saw a flush of green touch the delicate point of the ears as Spock defended his shocking breach of regulations. “It was anomalous that you should be able to defeat me without my being aware that you played. Are you aware that I hold a Grandmaster ranking on Earth?”
“That's - good,”he could feel the conversation beginning to slip away from him somehow.. He flicked his eyes up over to the Vulcan and felt the core of unease forming in the pit of his stomach. Spock was studying him like he was a complex proof with an error at the root preventing him from finding the solution. He'd never considered how the weight of that awesome intellect might feel when focused solely on himself.
He stood abruptly as the tension worked through him. He could do this. He must do this. He would not lose this moment. He turned to face his First Officer and could only stare, every carefully rehearsed word fleeing his mind and running off down the corridor with his dignity in tow. Spock had assumed a posture of active attentiveness, head tilted slightly sideways as he patiently waited for Jim to speak. The moment stretched and they stared at each other, Jim's stomach in his throat as the light caught Spock's features and softened their stark beauty into something artful and alien and untouchable.
“You're beautiful,” he blurted out baldly, inwardly kicking himself for fucking this up so grandly as soon as the words left his lips. This was even worse than the Kobayashi Maru hearing. At least the only thing at stake in that instance had been his career.
“Captain?” Spock allowed the puzzlement to show on his face. He had gone completely still.
Jim flailed about his mind, desperately looking for a way to salvage the situation. Seeing none and realizing he'd crossed the proverbial point of no return, he moved to the edge of his bed and sat, the evening coming full circle.
“I had a speech prepared for this, sort of,” he smiled wryly at his optimistic evaluation of the half formed phrases and fantasies he'd conducted regarding this moment. “Unfortunately your capacity to undermine my plans has not completely vanished.”
Spock continued to regard him steadily, calm patience forcing the words out by virtue of a complete lack of judgment. Perhaps Spock would take him down to sickbay to get his head checked when he was done, but at least he would do him the courtesy of hearing him out before deciding if that was necessary.
“I learned chess for you Spock. So we could spend more time together.” The words were tripping over his tongue and gaining momentum, “ I, uh, got an honorary degree in advanced physics just so we could have something to talk about. If I go on an away mission without you, I feel like I've left half of me behind. You're the greatest friend I've ever known and the more I get to know you, the more I want from you. I want you.”
He paused for breath, and there was nothing in the answering silence to lend him hope. He sagged and tried to offer Spock a way out of the emotional encounter that was probably unsettling to him, though he was too polite to speak if he knew his words would be inflicting damage. (Is that progress? )
“If, ah, if you don't feel the same. I'll understand,” he spoke quickly to counter the stillness after his confession. “This doesn't have to change anything between us Spock. I think you're a remarkable Officer and would be honoured to be counted as your friend . That will never change.” (Oh God, was he giving himself the Let's Be Friends speech? ) “I mean, I'll probably spend a few awkward weeks drunk in sickbay with Bones trying to forget this, but I needed to tell you before I went nuts and tried to jump you on the bridge or something. Not that you have to worry about that! I mean - I would never, unless you- Oh hell, I'm just going to stop talking now OK?”
He felt raw and completely exposed. He looked down at his hands and braced himself for the gentle rejection to come. He supposed in a few days he would come to regard the absence of the weight of unspoken desires with a sense of relief. In a few years he might even be telling this story for laughs in a bar somewhere. Perhaps he and Uhura could bond over Spock being The One That Got Away.
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor brought his head up. Spock was moving towards him with a thoughtful expression on his face. When he knelt by his side in one smooth motion, Jim was certain his eyes were going to fly out of his skull.
“Jim, if I may?” Spock brought his hand to his face and paused until Jim was able to dismiss his paralysis and make himself nod.
“My mind to your mind -”
“My thoughts to your thoughts.”
Jim was no longer alone in his mind, the familiar presence that he relied upon at his back in the field and on the bridge was embodied within him. He perceived the elements of Spock as a silver green shimmer in the chaotic landscape of his brain. He was seeing himself through Spock's eyes and the aspects of his nature he accepted so instinctively took on significance.
He was on the bridge, calmly directing Sulu through an asteroid field and calling instructions down to Engineering on which types of power they needed and when. He'd been too busy at the time to notice that the Vulcan had been watching him so closely, a wave of satisfied admiration flowing through him.
He was in sickbay, sitting on the edge of the bio bed because he refused to lay down, poised as if waiting for his opportunity to flee. McCoy was muttering under his breath as he wound tape around his ribs and a ran a dermal regenerator over the abrasions on his neck and face. He looked bruised and bloodied but still so strong and beautiful.
He was sitting in the mess across from Spock and Bones when their bickering turned to ridiculous. He threw back his head and laughed, the joyful sound resonating through the room and causing every head to turn and every face to share in the happiness for a moment.
He was standing over Spock, phaser in hand, screaming for the security detail to move their asses and get him some cover. His face was fierce and his eyes were blazing with the manic need to protect his people. Every beam of phaser fire disintegrated another enemy and he never once paused to look satisfied, his grim determination never faltering, continuing to fire steadily into the attacking throng even as the projectile entered his shoulder.
He was standing at the Observation Deck, looking out into the vastness of space. When he turned to face Spock his expression was filled with rapt wonder. “It's amazing, isn't it Mr. Spock?” They turned back to face the future in perfect accord.
He was sitting on the edge of the his bed, looking miserable and hopeful at the same time as he forced the words to come. “..greatest friend..” “I want more..” “I want you.” The rush of tenderness swelled to fill his entire being and he was
pulling away, mouth hanging open in shock.
“Spock?”
“Do you see, Jim? This is who you are to me.”
I have you
Jim was staring at his first Officer in considerable wonder. All the months he had struggled to get closer and control the mounting lust he had never really considered that Spock would be conducting a parallel campaign. It was all there, fresh in his mind but fading fast, countless images of himself superimposed and bound together with lust and longing. He only wished that Spock had the opportunity to see himself through Jim's eyes.
He tilted his head and considered Spock through hooded eyes. There was no outward indication in his features of the feelings that had coloured his mind and he was watching Jim patiently waiting for him to make a decision regarding this new information. Jim reached a hand out slowly, reverently and cupped his palm against the warm cheek. Spock turned his face into the touch and closed his eyes, the brush of eyelashes against his fingertip sent a tingle up Jim's arm. He slid to the floor between Spock and the bed and used his body weight to push Spock into a supine position, weight supported by his elbows and looking up at Jim expectantly.
Jim bent his head down, lips parted and breathed deep as he pressed his mouth against Spock's. Spock smelled of warm skin and Starfleet issued non-scented soap, his lips were dry and full beneath his breath was sweet with spice from the Vulcan tea he'd programmed into the synthesizer. The conflagration of sensation had Jim closing his eyes to feel it fully. His tongue slipped past parted lips and dipped into a hot welcoming mouth. He'd clinically known Vulcan body temperature was higher than a human but feeling it pressed against him now, his tongue bathing in it, was incredibly erotic. Spock's tongue was hard and rougher than his own, every brush against it resulted in a frisson of sensation. He slanted his mouth over him again and again, trying for the perfect angle, the perfect intensity. His teeth captured the tip of Spock's tongue and he sucked lightly, revelling in the sharp exhale pushing soundlessly past his lips.
Jim pulled back and his teeth caught the full bottom lip and bit down with just enough pressure to flick Spock's eyes open. His was panting lightly over him, his eyes moving over his face, trying to memorize the picture of flushed cheeks and parted lips and mussed hair. He ran his hands through the sleek cap of hair, letting the thick strands slide like water through his fingers and felt Spock's hands caress over his legs to rest in a soft grip at his hips. He ground down lightly, scanning the features and his eyes fluttered closed as warm fingers worked their way under his shirt and explored his chest and stomach. He leaned down, groaning as his erection slid across Spock's and pressed his mouth against the long column of throat that was exposed for him.
He wanted to linger here forever, tasting the spot where Spock's neck met his strong jaw and the soft lobe of a pointed ear brushed his lips until it was the only flavour he could remember. He felt Spock shudder beneath him as he breathed in and tested the tip his tongue to the shell of the ear, working a slow path to the point. Neatly trimmed nails scraped down his chest and Spock bucked his hips up sending a pulsing wave of heat through Jim's groin and into his belly. His hands tightened their grip in Spock's hair, pinning his head to the side as Jim's teeth nipped their way down to his collar bone.
Spock's fisted his shirt and began to tug insistently, Jim leaned back from his assault and was quickly divested of both command tunic and undershirt in one jerk. The air had only a second to cool his skin before inhumanly strong arms reached up and Jim found himself pulled and pinned beneath his First Officer. His laugh bubbled out at the unexpected show of aggression and dissolved into a moan as Spock's clever fingers began working at the ties of his pants.
“You will lift your hips now, Jim,” Spock's eyes were serious and gleaming with intent as they bored into his. He didn't want to do anything but obey that low command and obligingly allowed his pants to be skimmed efficiently down his legs and tossed across the room. He thought he could dimly hear them thunk against the wall but his focus was forcibly caught by Spock levering himself down and sucking his chest, just over his heart, with enough force to raise a welt. He shook himself against the sensation and his hands fumbled over the fabric of the blue tunic as he clumsily tried to raise it over the head working a an efficient path down his torso. Spock shrugged his shoulders up to allow Jim his shirt, returning to his determined exploration with his tongue and teeth as soon the collar cleared his jaw. The heat of the white skin minus the dampening barrier of clothing combined with the soft licks and hard bites had Jim writhing. Every time he tried to surge up and return the heated caresses one of those strong arms would press his chest firmly into floor.
Spock, it seemed, had waited long enough and was determined to play the scene he had imagined with his Captain, here and now, free of any influence or interference. Jim's hands were clenching reflexively at his sides as his body was stroked and burned. His breaths were coming in harsh gasps between clenched teeth as he tried to control the intensity of his reactions. He swore he would come any second now and Spock's mouth has just begun to puff hot breath over his hips.
“Spock,” he clenched out. “You're driving me crazy. Let me touch you.”
The eyebrow raise was definitely amused beneath the desire, “I do not predict any danger to you, Jim. I expect that you are capable of bearing this.” He bowed his head again and his tongue traced the outline of a hipbone. Jim had a brief moment to think that it had been the sexiest no he'd ever heard before his mind erupted into a cacophony of burning pleasure and straining lust. Spock's tongue was working up the side of his arousal and the hot wet trail cooled rapidly in the air as it moved forward, the conflicting temperatures had him thrusting and thrashing beneath the pressure of Spock's weight. His sharp cry echoed against the walls as Spock pulled him fully into his mouth and his vision went white, then grey as his entire body tensed and pushed forward all at once.
He opened his eyes to the unbelievable sight of Spock leaning over him and smiling (smiling!) softly. Sure, it was only the slightest uptick of the corner of his mouth but on Spock it might have well have been a face splitting grin. A part of him noted distantly that not only was he still shuddering but that his First Officer looked decidedly smug about the whole affair.
“Spock,” he gasped. “I-” The words were broken off by another wave of pleasure and he sagged boneless into the floor.
“Hush Jim, I have you.”
“Did you-?”
The other side of Spock's mouth curled up a fraction and he bent to press a chaste kiss against Jim's forehead. Dry humour coloured the low voice as Spock murmured, “You are aware of course, that I am a touch telepath?”
“Oh.” Jim paused.
“Oh.”
I love you
After that first time the Universe seemed to conspire against them. Between back to back missions through hostile space and diplomatic transports requiring them to work opposite shifts, slow gentle explorations devolved into frantic couplings in whatever space they were able to find themselves alone.
An impromptu trip to Engineering to check on his M/AM diffusion mods provided an opportunity to pull Spock between cooling chambers and slam him up against the glass tubes, fucking his mouth with his tongue as hard as he could. The warm hands had just reached up to cradle his hips and yank them closer when the klaxons sounded the alert drill he'd forgotten had been scheduled.
The Klingons had effectively killed their brief shore leave tryst by initiating a mineral raid on a small planet at the outskirts of the Neutral Zone. A small planet where Jim and Spock had been staying. The resulting imprisonment and rebellion had left little time for seduction. (Prison sex though. Hot. And since he'd initiated that particular encounter as a distraction, he had nobody to blame but himself when it had worked and left him frustrated. Again.)
The best times were when Spock lost it, usually after Jim pulled some heroic (illogical/boneheaded) stunt, and pinned him against a convenient wall to rip his uniform off and go over every inch of his body with hot hands and mouth to determine if he really was fine. Bones never said anything, but the fact that sickbay seemed to be mysteriously clear for the twenty minutes just before the Captain was released was taken as tacit permission by them both.
Jim also had particularly fond memories of the supply closet on deck 12 where the cramped surroundings had forced them to twist and flow around each other like oil and water. He'd had no idea Spock could bend like that.
His mind began to examine the possibilities and he had to force back the flush when Uhura called him.
“Sir, we are being hailed by shuttle craft Columbus.”
Finally. Spock was coming home.
“Patch it to the screen, Lieutenant.” He was not squirming in the captain's chair with anticipation. Absolutely was not squirming. Or blushing. The relieved smile that spread across his face, that he would concede.
Uhura smiled at him knowingly, and with a few deft manipulations of comm controls, Spock's face appeared on the main screen. He looked amazing, if a little tired. When his dark eyes stared into his Jim felt a sense of peace flow through for the first time in three incredibly long, boring days.
“Greetings, Mr. Spock.” His voice was commanding and steady, masking that all he wanted to do was blurt out how much he'd missed his Vulcan. “I trust the repairs went well?”
“Indeed, Captain. The malfunction was resulting from a faulty ground. While tedious to locate, the repair was facile and I was able to conclude my business earlier than anticipated. I will be within docking range in approximately 5.4 minutes.”
“Very well Mr Spock, we will alert the shuttle bay and prepare to receive you.”
Spock inclined his head slightly. “Thank you Captain. I will continue on my current course.”
Jim flashed a grin. “You do that. Kirk out. End transmission, Lieutenant Uhura.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He didn't quite leap from his seat. “Very well, I shall proceed to the shuttle bay to debrief Commander Spock. Sulu, you have the Conn.”
He strode purposefully to the turbolift after he received Sulu's acknowledgment. When the doors shut behind him with a decisive click he allowed his smile to take over his entire face. Spock was home two days earlier than anticipated. Their latest orders had them en route to a resupply mission that was still close to a week away at cruising speed. Life was looking pretty close to perfect right about now.
He was spoiled for choice in what he wanted to do first, or rather where he wanted to do it. Molesting Spock in the shuttle bay was probably out since there were likely to be a few wide eyed engineering ensigns milling about. While he wasn't as hard nosed as most commanders on maintaining the strictest discipline between ranks, even he had some boundaries. On occasion. Well, Spock did anyways. He looked around the 'lift and ran a finger over the support railing, feeling the smooth metal heat beneath his palm. He rested some weight on it in contemplation. They'd yet to try the turbolift since Spock was reluctant to abuse their command overrides for the security cameras just to score a quickie. Perhaps his absence had been enough to make him reconsider his rigid stance on the matter.
Excited expectation pushed him out of the 'lift as soon as the doors hissed opened. He moved briskly to the docking bay and stood as patiently as he was able at the airlock. The bay doors opened into space and he watched as the sleek shuttle craft slid smoothly into dock, expert piloting making the manoeuvre seem effortless as the landing struts extended and locked on the deck. At a signal from the attending Engineer, the bay doors swirled shut and the oxygen compression system snapped back online with a low buzz.
Protocol dictated the bulkhead between the airlock and the shuttle deck remained closed for an additional minute after successful pressurization,allowing for oxygen saturation. Jim stood as close as he could to the large porthole without pressing against it and watched the Columbus, trying to bore his gaze (through the titanium sheets slabbed over a composite carbon/titanium alloy skeleton) to where his First Officer would be waiting by the shuttle hatch, instinctively aware of the passing of time whereas Jim was keeping count in his head.
5..4..3..2..1
The bulkhead released and retracted with a whirr and grind of sliding metal. Jim cleared the entryway before the partition had fully withdrawn and was striding across the deck as the shuttle hatch descended with a loud clang. His footsteps echoed to the pulse beating in his chest and he stopped just shy of the inclined steps to smile up at Spock.
He had no Captain-y words of greeting at the ready to congratulate him on his successful journey, no proper speech to welcome him back aboard prepared. Just a blinding smile and simple joy threading through his voice. It was enough.
“Welcome home, Spock.”
Spock's tired face lightened as he regarded Jim. He inclined his head regally and made his way down the steps. He extended a hand in a Vulcan kiss and Jim pressed their first two fingers together lightly, rubbing as he pulled away. The shock of pleasure vibrated up his entire arm as Spock allowed him to feel a portion of his relief and regard.
“I am satisfied to return, Captain.”
Jim's grin took on a predatory cast, “Yes, Mr. Spock. I predict your return will prove eminently satisfying.”
Spock chose to ignore this as they walked in tandem to the exit.
***
Jim's grand plans for immediate satisfaction, preferably in his quarters (or Spock's... or on that soft couch on the Observation Deck.. or the deserted causeway between Maintenance and Sanitation), were not to be. The moment they cleared the bulkhead two young science officers materialized and snapped a sharp salute.
“Captain. Commander Spock,” the older of the two ventured.
“Ensign Matheson. Ensign Harris.” Jim acknowledged with a nod, brain supplying their names through a surge of frustration which he managed to keep out of his voice via sheer will. “At ease gentlemen.”
“Sir.” The two ensigns shifted to parade rest in perfect unison. Jim suppressed an amused snort and gestured for them to continue.
Harris turned to face Spock directly, “Commander Spock, sir, we've encountered some difficulties with the sensor readings in Biolab 13. The experiment is near conclusion and the read outs just don't make any sense.”
“Have you attempted recalibration?”
Ensign Matheson nodded quickly. “Sir, yes. It was the first thing we tried. The instruments seem to be in order but there is a flaw in the data processing that is throwing all of our calculations out. If we don't fix this issue we'll have to delay the experiment until next time we can return to Ganymede Sector for fresh samples.”
“That would be unfortunate. If you will pardon me, Captain?”
Jim waved him on. “Very well Mr. Spock. Report to my quarters for your debriefing when the matter has been resolved.”
“Acknowledged Captain.”
Jim mostly avoided watching the way his hips swayed before he turned away and returned to the bridge.
***
The alert chimed at exactly 1900.
“Enter.”
Jim craned his head from his upright sprawl on the bed to afford him a better look as the door pulled back to reveal his First Officer.
“Everything go OK in the lab?”
“Yes, Jim. I was able to locate the source of the anomaly and the experiment will conclude tomorrow evening as scheduled.”
“Good, that's good. Come here Spock, I need to touch you.”
Watching his Vulcan glide across the room heightened Jim's awareness. He was already half sitting when Spock reached the bed and his arms snaked up to wrap around that neck and pull him down on top of him. The heat of their breath mingling and wet sounds of their kisses sparked the anticipatory passion that had been welling in Jim for three days. He groaned into Spock's mouth and drew back slightly.
“I missed you Spock,” he kept his voice low as if afraid of shattering this perfect moment.
“Indeed, Jim. Your absence was not without impact on myself either.”
Jim's mouth quirked up. “If that's how you say you missed me I can't wait to hear your response when I tell you that I love you.”
Spock parted his lips in surprise. Whatever response he was formulating to go with the tender expression in his eyes was lost when Jim's communicator began beeping frantically.
Wasn't there a commendation for Exercising Restraint Under Extreme Provocation that he was eligible to receive right about fucking now?
“Kirk here.”
“Aye Captain, Scotty here.”
“What is it Commander Scott?”
“I think ye'd better get down here Cap'n. We've got some wee fluctuations in the warp core an' I could use a steady set o' hands right about now to stabilize 'er, sir.”
“I'm on my way. Kirk out.”
Spock's face had resumed a placid neutrality and the moment was gone.
“Wait for me?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Jim gave him a grateful smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
***
It was past 2300 hours when he returned to his quarters, dishevelled and caked in grease and sweat. The leak, though minor, had required a sub containment field to be repaired. They'd been successful after hours of grunting and sweating beneath the bowels of the warp core, he and Scotty working in silent unity in a delicate surgery on the heart of their lady.
Spock was meditating against the wall, a serene figure watching him with glittering eyes as he stepped into the room.
“Hi honey, I'm home.” The good humour was taxed by the loud popping of his spine as he stretched out the kinks he'd earned this evening. He was sore and tired and desperately in need of a shower.
“You were able to resolve the situation with the warp core?”
Jim nodded tiredly as he bent to remove his boots. He stumbled slightly as he toed them off and leaned against the wall for a moment, allowing the wave of bone deep exhaustion to pass. He stripped off his filthy tunic and deposited it into the laundry chute. Material sliding over the scrapes on his knuckles elicited a small wince. He was fumbling with the ties to his slacks when a pair of warm hands closed over his.
“Let me assist you.” The words were breathed into his ear. He closed his eyes and let himself relax a moment within the circle of warm arms.. His head fell back to rest on Spock's shoulder and he turned his face into his neck and breathed in.
“I'm getting you all dirty,” he murmured as the hands deftly loosed his pants and skimmed the fabric down over his hips to pool at his feet.
“Hush Jim, it is of no matter. Step now.”
Jim obeyed, lifting first one leg then another, limbs heavy with fatigue. Spock bent down to gather the clothing and he was unable to work the suggestion of what else he could be doing down there past his yawn.
Spock removed his own uniform with exacting precision and a complete lack of modesty before leading Jim into their shared bathroom and to the shower. He sat on the toilet and watched Spock test the water temperature, somewhat bemused. A measure of his tiredness had dissipated in the presence of his First..
“I could get used to this,” he said fondly when Spock offered him a hand up and pulled him into the hot water. “You take good care of me Mr. Spock.”
Spock stepped into the shower with him and slid the door to a close. “Indeed, Captain. To quote Doctor McCoy, it seems as though somebody must.” He lifted a washcloth filled with soap and began to work away at the grit embedded in the skin of Jim's arms and hands.
Jim closed his eyes and leaned against the enclosure, submitting himself fully to Spock's gentle ministrations. The firm, efficient circles rubbing him clean fanned a steady banked warmth at his core.
They stood in silence beneath the warm jets of water as Spock slowly worked the washcloth over Jim's body. Strong hands nudged him to face wall and he groaned as Spock began applying pressure in the strokes to work out the knots of tension across his back and shoulders. Jim leaned back into the touch, bare flesh encountering bare flesh and sending a flash of arousal through him and a keening moan from his lips. Spock's hands were continuing their massage down the curve of his ass and the strokes gradually became less firm and more caressing. He could feel Spock hard against him and light licks of passion threaded into him.
“Spock.” He rasped the name out and pushed back to rub against the heat. His exhaustion was forgotten as Spock craned his neck down to suck at Jim's neck. A clever hand worked a tracing path to his erection and he was caught in a hot, firm stroke.
“I missed you, T'hy'la.” The words were spoken tight against his neck and he shivered as the low growl vibrated up his skin. He was fully erect now, rocking into the fist and unwilling to stop the panting moans forming in his throat.
“Spock,” his breaths were gasping, struggling against the thick steam forming and the weight of passion. Fingers slicked with soap were playing at his entrance, flicking and stretching until he was sobbing for the firm pressure thrusting into him. He cried out as he was possessed and he arched back into Spock, turning his head to find the hot mouth and communicate every blazing surge of lust and desire and love streaking through him by way of his lips and teeth and tongue alone.
Spock was purring his name into his mouth, a frenzied mantra punctuating every thrust and stroke.
“Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim.” His heart was racing in time and felt himself begin to unravel. Ripping his lips away from Spock, his shout of release echoed around them as his body stiffened and hot spurts of semen were washed down the drain.
Spock's arms banded around his waist to prevent his collapse and he held Jim a willing captive to his possessive thrusts. He came with his teeth clamped down on the back of Jim's neck and sagged them both to leaning into the wall.
Running water and harsh breathing were the only sounds for long moments as they recovered. Jim stirred first, pushing up lightly against the dead weight of sated Vulcan pressed against his back.
“I think we'd better get out of here before we drown, Spock.”
Spock shuddered once against him before speaking. “A moment, Jim. It appears my legs are not yet capable of bearing my weight.” He did, however, move his hand up to slap heavily at the water control, shutting it off on the second attempt.
When they were both able to move again, under their own power, they stumbled out of the bathroom and into Jim's bed.
Jim pressed against the warm body and tucked his head under Spock's chin. Sleepy satisfaction filled him completely and he whispered, “I love you Spock.”
The arm lazily stroking up his arm tightened and pulled him closer. “I love you too, Jim.” The simple words in that low voice were the perfect thing to accompany Jim into his well earned slumber.
The red alert was almost anticlimactic.
Finis
A/N : And there we have the longest thing I have ever written. I had trouble with sexy!chess metaphor and part 5 should have happened in part 4 but the angst and the mindmeld sort of came out of nowhere *facepalm* There was an undignified WHOOHOO bursting from me when they finally decided to get it on XD
And the Deleted Prison Sex scene now exists~! XD