Lessons in Anatomy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Word Count: ~4,800
Beta: all hail notboldly50295
Warnings: Crack! Bizarre Vulcan genitals! The usual graphic pornography native to all my fic! Blatant abuse of science and the VLD! Copious schmoop!
Disclaimer: Under no circumstances am I affiliated with Star Trek or anyone who owns Star Trek. No money made, no offense or copyright infringement intended.
Summary: First Officer Spock, possessed of an efficient Vulcan male reproductive system, has never spared much thought to its illogical human counterpart. Until he interrupts his captain’s private time.
Lessons in Anatomy
Spock had never given much thought to the appearance and physiology of male human genitals before. Truthfully, he found them a tedious and inefficient set of parts; that human males were so obsessed with their own genitalia would have perplexed him were his mind given to such low wanderings. As a cadet, he became inured to the sight of such dull cuts of flesh in quite short a space of time; his roommate, Keith Mahmud, had not been fond of undergarments during sleep, or during idle moments, or during study hours, or whenever he was spending time in their shared quarters. Indeed, all clothing seemed to offend his sensibilities.
“It’s freeing,” Cadet Mahmud often said. “All that polyester and elastic, man, it confines. It chafes.” He would make a dismissive gesture toward Spock’s cadet reds, which were made from synthetic fibers designed to slick away moisture and promote good posture. “You should try it sometime. It’s a whole new world, bud.”
“There are many new worlds discovered yearly,” Spock might say in answer. “I do not know all their cultures’ stances on raiment.”
Cadet Mahmud would sigh in resignation and scratch idly at his vulnerable testicles, and Spock would push from his thoughts any consideration of those thoroughly unimpressive pendulums and onto more worthy subjects.
It occurred to Spock, many years later as he burst into the captain’s quarters at the sound of a worrying thud, that in all his years sharing space with Mahmud and communal showers with fellow gym-goers and prison cells with his commanding officers on hostile planets, he had never seen the human phallus in quite so shocking a state as he did now on his captain. Protruding like an angry sea-beast from his captain’s groin was a priapism so acute that Kirk grimaced even as he gripped it in a valiant effort to contain what must have been great agony. Such inflated proportions were unnatural to the point that it disquieted even Spock’s collected mind, and he decided it must have been caused by some dastardly foreign substance to which the captain had fallen victim.
“Captain! You’ve been injured!”
“Fuck, Spock! What the hell!” Kirk scrambled to cover himself with a sheet, his face and bare chest mottled with a dark blush that only emphasized the startling blue of his wide eyes.
Spock was at his captain’s side at once, checking for further injuries even as he activated his personal comm device and called for the only person who could ease such a troubling condition. “Dr. McCoy - you are required in the captain’s quarters immediately. Spock out.”
“Jesus! Spock - stop, stop.” He grabbed Spock’s comm with sweaty fingers and wrenched it away from him. “McCoy,” he barked, “belay that order. All’s well - activate Code Vulcan Idiot. Kirk out.”
“Damnit, Jim!”
“Captain, I must insist-”
“Hey! Insist nothing! I was having a bit of - ah - private time, Spock, and there’s nothing wrong, okay? I’m fine!”
Spock’s hands lay heavy on his captain’s shoulders, and beneath the sheet Spock noted that the terrible elephantiasis that had stricken Kirk’s genitals had abated.
“This is most fortunate,” he said. “You are well again. I will have the ventilation system thoroughly decontaminated, and perhaps Mr. Scott can arrange an upgrade for the filtration.”
Kirk’s hands covered his face and he gave a muffled moan.
“Captain? Is there still pain?” Spock’s hands skimmed the well-muscled chest to ascertain the absence of palpitations before his fingers came to rest on the edge of the sheet and he made to snatch it away for inspection. Kirk’s hands darted from his own face to close around Spock’s wrists.
“Spock.” Spock met Kirk’s eyes, a shock of blue. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen an erect human penis before.”
“Negative, Captain. I do not take your meaning.”
“Never watched porn? Never - you know, walked in on someone like this before?”
“I am accustomed to seeing the human organs bare, Captain.”
“Spock. I don’t mean the standard flaccid junk dangling around. Oh my God, we’re actually having this conversation right now.”
“Captain, perhaps you should reconsider seeing Dr. McCoy. You appear confounded by your ordeal.”
Kirk heaved a great sigh and slid his posterior over. He patted the space he’d just left in a gesture Spock had come to understand indicated an invitation to sit. Spock sat. Where his clothed arm met Kirk’s bare one, a heat began to grow.
“Spock.” His captain took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, controlled exhale. “I don’t know about Vulcans - never took that class - but during, um, arousal, the human penis… increases in size.” He cleared his throat and wrung his hands together. “Usually. So. There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine.”
Spock stared at the strong-boned profile of his commanding officer. At the crown of his head, sweat glistened and darkened his hairline. His lashes were thick and long, and his pink mouth was swollen, parted, taking in breath. He smelled clean and dark and enticing. Spock blinked.
“I do not understand.”
Blue eyes closed, lashes a delicate fan against smooth skin. When Kirk opened them again, he stared straight ahead and would not meet Spock’s gaze.
“What don’t you understand, Spock?”
“You say this is a common state for a human male. And yet I have never seen its equal.”
Kirk’s wet mouth spread and the entirety of his countenance lifted with laugh number fourteen, which Spock catalogued as occurring when the captain was both amused and affectionate, and it sent Kirk’s head back and exposed the beguiling line of his throat. Something unnamable fluttered and swelled in Spock’s side; he made a note to have the ventilation and filtration systems checked regardless of Kirk’s insistence otherwise, because a pollutant had surely infiltrated the Enterprise for him to feel so weighted about the lungs.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment and put it in the spank bank no matter what else happens in the course of this conversation.”
“‘Spank bank’, sir?”
Kirk waved his hand, grin number thirty-seven endearingly crooked as he leveled it at Spock, baring the slight imperfections in his lower teeth. “Colloquialism. Never mind. Look Spock. You’re a scientist. Was human anatomy and physiology not a part of your curriculum?”
“Body parts and system functions, yes, but not… practical display.”
“Ah. Well. Now you know.”
“I am still unsure of …why.”
“Why, what?”
“Why does it grow so? The male organ of Vulcans does not, even during the act of copulation. All the human phalli I have observed in the open have been small and inert, and I had no cause to believe such a transformation would take place during arousal. Indeed, I find them a rather uninteresting subject to be the topic of so much preoccupation, and if I were prone to wondering about the mechanics of such an organ, I would be curious as to its efficacy for sexual pleasure and insemination. But I am not.”
“Spock. Well. I guess Vulcans aren’t growers?”
“Again, I am unable to divine your meaning.”
Kirk leaned back and took with him the human heat of his bare arm. He maneuvered so his back was against the pillows and the bulkhead, and Spock regarded him from his twisted position at the edge of the bed. Kirk wore smile number twenty-four - subheading: smirk - contemplative and calculating.
“Many human males are often… let’s say ‘diminutive’ - when they’re not ready for some action. In their resting state, I mean. So when they get an erection, the penis gets a lot bigger by comparison. Catch my meaning?”
“I see.” Spock, in fact, saw nothing. His own Vulcan apparatus did not change in size during tumescence; indeed, it merely hardened for ease of penetration. He considered the quality of the penile tissue of the human male, for it to display such elastic willingness to accommodate. Underneath the Starfleet issue black trousers that Spock removed only during sleep and meditation, a hot heaviness began to stir.
“Anyway. Sorry to worry you. I won’t accidentally kick anything in my enthusiasm next time. “ Kirk had plastered on his face smile number seven: polite but insincere, somehow curving downward in as oxymoronic a show as a human expression could contain, it did not crinkle around his eyes. Spock had seen it aimed at diplomats and dignitaries and obnoxious clan leaders across the galaxy. Kirk used smile number seven to get rid of people. But with a moment’s courageous abandon, Spock hesitated.
“Jim?”
Blue eyes crinkled - seven warmed into twelve.
“What is it, Spock?”
“May I beg a practical demonstration of human erectile prowess?”
Kirk huffed out laugh number seventeen: surprised and delighted. His hands reached out, but stopped just short of grasping Spock’s own. Spock met him the rest of the way and tangled their fingers in a heady, dizzying clasp. He drew a sharp, convulsive breath and met Kirk’s eyes, which shone hopeful and excited.
“Spock, I’ve been waiting two years to hear you say exactly that.”
Kirk pulled Spock into the waiting circle of his arms, and together they fell into a kiss as hot and slick as it was ardent and distracting, and before he could analyze what had happened, Spock found himself divested of his uniform and flush against the nude feast of his captain’s body.
The rampant erection of startling proportions was back, straining hot against Spock’s own abdomen. Spock tore his mouth from Kirk’s and peered at the tumid monstrosity, uncaring of the way his mouth gaped at the sight. He could hear Kirk’s heavy breath, but his senses were consumed by Kirk’s intoxicating penis - sight, smell, and now touch as he set a careful hand on the base and gave an appreciative squeeze. Kirk moaned and Spock, fortified, formed a steady grip and began to pump. Kirk keened and pushed fingers into Spock’s hair, and Spock was overcome with the desire to taste the glorious phallus before him. He was a great believer in appeasing curiosity when it struck, and thus he opened his watering mouth and bent over Kirk’s lap to feed himself his prize.
It was a thick velvet weight on his tongue and filled his mouth with a clean salt flavor that he decided at once was his new preferred taste. Kirk gave a strangled shout even as Spock groaned around the twin sensations of vulnerability and power, and then he set to sucking in earnest.
After interminable minutes during which Spock’s universe had shrunk and fixated on the throbbing length he worshipped, he felt frenzied fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, and then Kirk gasped, “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Kirk hauled him up for another desperate exchange of tooth and tongue, and Spock groaned to feel Kirk’s hands carding through his chest hair, gliding down his pectorals and abdominal muscles until they grasped at Spock’s own genitals.
And paused.
Kirk pulled away and cocked his head, a question in his eyes. Then he craned his neck to look down awkwardly between them. He squeezed, and a breath escaped Spock’s lungs as if forced by a blow.
“Whoa, Spock,” he said.
“What is it, Jim?”
“Um - looks like you’re not the only one woefully ignorant about foreign cock over here.”
Spock slid off of his companion and half onto his side. His penile apparatus, framed by a neat thicket of black hair, arched upward as if in greeting, and from its depths peeked the eager, slender green head of his pistol, quivering in its readiness. He looked at it with dispassion. He considered it an efficient organ, but not an interesting one, like he’d suddenly come to believe about Kirk’s.
“It is as it has always been when stimulated.”
Kirk sat up, cock waving a cheery salute as it bounced against thigh and stomach. He situated himself on his knees straddled over Spock’s legs, and as he leaned in close to Spock’s penis, Spock felt a curious disquiet about being the subject of such intent inspection. Kirk’s brows had drawn downward and created a groove of concentration on his forehead.
“Does - does its appearance not please you?” Spock ventured.
“No! No, it’s great. Awesome. I just… what’s it all about? What’s this?” One of Kirk’s fingers tapped the bulbous head of his pistol and Spock gasped, limbs jerking reflexively. “Oh my God, sorry!” Kirk held his hands up as if in surrender.
“No apologies necessary,” Spock said, breathless. “That is the lok - ah - my penis proper, or pistol, if you will. It stimulates and inseminates. When not in use, it is flaccid and rests within this sheath.” Spock gripped the thick shaft of his sav’el, which had also grown hard from amorous engagement and stood at attention a few incalculable inches shorter than the length of Jim’s whole delectable cock. “When engorged, the lok is limitedly prehensile, and though the entire penile apparatus is used in penetration, the lok extends further than you see now and engages in its own movements.”
“Holy fuck,” Kirk breathed. He reached out tentative fingers, and Spock grasped them, set them to the velveteen gathering of skin around mouth of his sav’el. Viscous lubricant dribbled out in a generous dollop, and the lok poked further outward and pressed its own smooth length into Kirk’s hand.
“Like this,” Spock said, and he closed Jim’s fingers gently around the slick head, encouraging a soft rolling motion that made his back arch and his skin sing. His eyes rolled back and slid shut, and he couldn’t help but to moan aloud as his head pushed back against Kirk’s pillow. “The lok,” he panted, “is where the majority of my sexual pleasure nerves are located. Ah, Jim, you’re-”
The lok extended even more and began to thrust. Helpless and mindless, nerves ablaze, Spock lost all capacity for verbal communication and let his hips undulate to follow the whims of his lok.
“So, like, this lock thing, I mean-” Kirk swallowed. “How - how far will it go?”
“Nngh.”
“Hey Spock? Every dude in the history of the galaxy has measured his junk, even logical Vulcans. So. Give it to me straight.”
Spock forced his eyes open and schooled his tongue for words. It struck him then that Kirk looked perfect as he was now- naked, looming over him, Spock’s lok in hand like something precious.
With some difficulty, he answered Kirk: “My sav’el has a penetrative length of approximately fourteen centimeters, and my lok at its longest will reach a further nine.”
“So full depth of penetration is, what, nine inches? And this sweet little dealy moves around on its own?” As if for emphasis, Kirk rolled his lok in his palm, and Spock whimpered. He gasped out an answer in the affirmative, and then Kirk was pushing his legs apart and hunkering down between them, mouth open and eyes zealous at the sight of Spock’s pistol. He paused then. “Hey Spock?” Spock made an inarticulate choking sound he could only hope - most illogically - sounded like an encouraging reply. “Where are your balls?”
“In - in -”
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” And with that, Kirk swallowed the exposed length of Spock’s lok while he squeezed around his sav’el with both broad hands. Spock arched, a guttural, garbled sound erupting from his throat, and his hands made talons in the sheets. His lok plunged forward and back madly in the vacuum of Kirk’s sweet, wet mouth, and hooked on Kirk’s shoulders, Spock’s legs began to tremble. Kirk hummed around it as if it were a particularly pleasing sweet, and Spock’s vision blurred.
Kirk slid his hands under Spock’s backside and lifted him upward. He let Spock’s penile apparatus slip from his mouth and he followed the trail of hair lower, between the cheeks of his buttocks that he pressed apart. He licked along the perineum, which was a curious if not exactly pleasurable sensation, and then paused.
And pulled back.
And sat on his haunches.
Spock pried his eyes open again and lifted a brow in question. Kirk was boggling at him, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed even as he occupied both his hands with their two needful cocks.
“Jim?”
“You don’t - you don’t have an asshole.”
Spock let himself frown. “Of course not, Jim,” he said. “In this, I am fully Vulcan.”
Laugh number twenty-three bubbled out then, a nervous stutter that bordered on the hysterical. Spock propped himself up on his elbows and blinked away the lust-bleariness from his eyes.
“Jim?”
“I’m missing some vital information again. Where - I mean, how -”
Spock ran a hand down his stomach and gripped his penis loosely. He tamed his lok as best he could, and with a gentle thumb, he coaxed open the wide hole at its summit. It was a larger orifice than the human urethra, as it had more to accommodate.
“This is my krau,” he said. “Vulcans produce only one type of waste other than sweat, and we rid ourselves of it quite neatly this way, provided we are not ill. Both males and females have a krau, though the vagina of the female is separate for sexual activity and childbirth, and males also expel seminal fluid from the krau. The best comparison is to that of the cloaca of some Terran fauna.”
“Oh my god, like a bird?”
“It is but an approximation, Jim, and a poor one at that. What’s the matter?”
Kirk shook his head as if brushing away cobwebs.
“Nothing,” he said, “nothing. It’s just. Surprising? I mean. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Do you wish to stop?” Spock gave up logic to indulge for a moment in focusing the force of all his energies toward the hope that Kirk wanted no such thing.
Kirk stretched himself along Spock’s own lean length. He lined up their mouths, ran a finger down the bony protrusion of Spock’s prominent nose, and looked into the depths of Spock’s eyes.
“Nope,” he said against Spock’s lips. “I pretty much wanna do this forever. You’re just gonna have to - tell me what you like. What you wanna do. I have a feeling both of our expectations for this are kinda out the window, so we get to build - whatever we have here - up from scratch. It’s new, Spock. And it’s me and you.”
The kiss that ensued was a tender exploration that belied the animal lusts that had beset them at the outset of this venture. But Kirk’s hard cock was insistent against Spock’s sav’el , and Spock’s lok had almost reached full extension, and their shallow thrusts against each other’s genitals were proving quickly inadequate.
“Here,” Spock said, and stilled both their movements. He took hold of Kirk’s cock. The loose foreskin reminded him of his sav’el, and he pushed it back to expose the raw pink of Kirk’s glans. He threw one leg over both of Kirk’s and guided their genitals together. He snugged the blunt, glistening head of Kirk’s cock into the slick mouth of his sav’el, where his lok rose up in eager greeting and rubbed against its newfound companion. Spock shuddered and grunted, eyes fluttering shut. Kirk’s hand joined his to steady the driving force of cock against cock, and their mouths sought and found each other in the humid space between them. “Yes,” Spock murmured, a sibilant hiss. He thrust more deliberately, and his lok drummed a wet, maddening rhythm against Kirk’s cock with increasing speed. But Kirk gripped around the base of his sav’el and stopped their riotous hurtle toward climax.
“Spock? Do you want to fuck me?”
Spock hummed out a questioning note, hoarse.
Kirk swallowed and brought his hands up around Spock’s face. His thumbs toyed with Spock’s mouth, and Spock flickered his tongue out in welcome.
“It was what I thought I’d like to do with you, before, you know, your lock and crow. But. I’ve thought about it this way too. During private time. You get the mechanics of it?”
“In theory,” Spock croaked. At thirty standard years, he was neither a total innocent nor a virgin, despite his reserved nature, and he had heard of the propensity of humans to insert objects and phalli into their recta for sexual gratification. If his mind were prone to thoughts of prurience, which it was not, he would have wondered how such a thing could engender enjoyment - certainly he had never sought to fill the nerveless passage of his krau with sundry items in pursuit of sexual satisfaction - but he supposed if the human penis could be as pleasing as he now found it, the human anus might prove so as well.
“Do you wanna try with me?” Blue eyes like a calm, clear sea, open and deep.
“I find I never wish to deprive you of your desires, Jim,” he said.
Kirk huffed out a soft laugh number sixty-three - it was new, and it radiated contentment and a pulsing, living affection of fathomless depth, and Spock committed it to memory as something wholly his own, a gift from James Kirk to Spock of Vulcan in a moment of perfect intimacy.
“I’m gonna remember this next time you berate me on an away mission.”
Spock closed his mouth over Kirk’s, swallowed his words, and once again they were two bodies united in pleasure. At last Kirk gave him a heavy-lidded look and turned over to present his unblemished backside, firm and muscled and round, finely dusted with golden down. Lubricant oozed from Spock’s sav’el at the sight, and in his side his heart gave a curious quake. He moaned and bent low to press his fervent mouth and tongue to the dip of Kirk’s tailbone. His hands roamed the muscled expanse of Kirk’s back until they came to rest on the tender swell of his buttocks. Spock kneaded him there until he drew back and parted the cheeks with a measure of caution. Beneath his hands, he felt Kirk sigh.
The anus was a wrinkled, closed aperture edged by a smattering of bronze hair, and it was impossibly small - smaller even than Spock had expected, if he had expectations - and though he had never given this human body part any passing consideration in the past, its sight now jolted him with bright flares to send into the smoldering embers of his heavy arousal. He moaned and ran a fingertip over its surface in an experimental touch. It winked against his sensitized flesh and from Spock’s throat came a helpless whimper.
“Jim,” he whispered. “It’s -” beautiful, perfect, intoxicating “- too small.”
He could see Kirk’s face in profile against the pillow, and he found new smile -number eighty-four - to be one of beatific satisfaction.
“It’ll stretch, you’ll see. You just have to be gentle. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
“Use your tongue. On and around and inside. It’ll relax the muscle, and then you can use your fingers, and then you can put that gorgeous cock in me, okay?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Under Spock’s tongue, Kirk’s anus spasmed and quavered, and Kirk began to writhe and push back into Spock’s face, the space of the cabin filling with his moans. He reached back and spread himself wide for Spock’s ministrations even as he humped his penis into the mattress. Spock steadied him by the hips and set to his task with intensive determination. He found in the act a powerful intimacy, and even as his lok thrummed with thwarted arousal and his sav’el produced copious lubrication in preparation, he felt a profound gratitude steal over him to be allowed this singular communion with his lover.
Kirk calling his name in an agonized elongation of the vowel snapped Spock from his reverie, and he removed his face from the blissful crevice between Kirk’s buttocks.
“Yes, Jim? Is this adequate?”
“Adequate! Yes! God, yes, Spock, can you please finger me now? Please?’
“I live to serve,” Spock said, and he pressed his middle finger into Kirk’s anus, which accepted it with hungry verve.
Kirk gave a choked off grunt and demanded more. Spock obliged, and within minutes he was thrusting a cluster of three fingers in and out of Kirk’s tight hole. With 78.45% certainty, Spock believed they could both have an orgasm at this form of stimulation alone, and he abandoned himself to the hot push and pull of Kirk’s sphincter around his fingers. But then Kirk pushed him back and disengaged his hand, and before he could process the development, Kirk laid him out flat on his back and hovered over his groin, ready. Again he paused.
“Spock? Can you - er, get him to go back in his house so I can get it inside me? I don’t want to hurt him.”
Spock glanced down at his energetic lok, fully distended and practically dancing with ambition, and he understood Kirk’s concern if not his need to personify body parts. He shut his eyes and willed his arousal down until the lok had diminished into his sav’el and only the rounded, key lime head gleamed slick from the folds of skin. Kirk hummed his approval and sank down to accept the length of Spock’s thick sav’el into his body. When Spock was in up to the hilt, Kirk pinned him with a penetrating gaze, his mouth hanging open as if in disbelief. There passed between them a boundless understanding, untouched by time. Then Kirk gave a tremulous variation on smile eighty-four.
“Spock,” he gasped. “Oh God.”
Inside Kirk, Spock’s lok surged up and sent both of them shuddering, shouting, and Kirk braced himself on Spock’s corded thighs to arch back and take him deeper. Spock gripped Kirk’s hips with bruising force and set a rhythm that had Kirk rising and falling on his sav’el, babbling filthy nonsense, jerking his own cock as if in punishment. Spock’s lok thrust its slim length into the smooth, tight heat of Kirk’s depths, rubbed along the accommodating walls, pressed with preternatural intent on the gland that sent Kirk screaming.
Spock planted the soles of his feet on the bed and brought his knees up to support Kirk’s back. He pulled himself into a sitting position and gathered Kirk close. There was a stillness as they gazed at each other, and then they began to pitch and writhe against one another once again, the point of their connection reduced to a full, throbbing unity. In the heated tangle of limbs and tongues, chest on chest, cock against stomach, Kirk and Spock sought union, affirmation, completion.
Kirk’s orgasm came first, heralded by hitching breath, and his body tightened and jerked even as Spock held him steady and encouraged the spurts of creamy ejaculate onto his chest. Kirk quavered with aftershocks until he slumped forward and nestled his head into Spock’s neck with a sucking kiss.
The wracking spasms of Kirk’s body trilled at Spock’s lok from within, and Spock gripped the globes of Kirk’s ass hard enough to cause pain, but he was unable to contain himself. He felt the inexorable approach of orgasm and abandoned himself to sensation. Climax came as a blast that lit his spine, his nerves, his fingertips, his lok, and every synapse in his brain. Deep inside his captain, his lover, Spock pumped a torrent of viscous Vulcan semen.
They found themselves prone on the bed, panting in the aftermath, and Kirk moved just enough to extricate Spock’s organ from his rectum. They lay a pair of boneless bodies collapsed together for an indeterminate number of minutes, Kirk’s semen matting Spock’s chest hair. He was sure that from Kirk’s anus leaked an uncomfortable mixture of ejaculate and lubricant. Spock could not muster the energy to find this an unacceptable level of hygiene maintenance.
“Wow,” Kirk said as he marveled at the mundane curl of Spock’s limp sav’el and ran scrutinizing fingers around the base. The spent lok had retreated into obscurity in its depths. “So you’re really packing that hunk of meat in your briefs all the time, huh? It doesn’t go down at all?”
“It is ‘down’, Jim,” Spock murmured. He snuck a peek at Kirk’s own damp penis, flushed still with exertion, but diminished, flaccid and innocuous, as he was accustomed to seeing such things. He found he wished to incite it to size again, as soon as he could feel his spine. “It is merely soft, now that you have sated me so.”
Spock catalogued the smile that statement elicited as number eighty-five: helpless adoration.
Kirk began to play with Spock’s fingers. In the quiet dimness and solitude of the captain’s quarters, Spock let his lips relax, and if that was Spock smile number one, he could live with it.
End
Illustration by the immensely talented cannedebonbon
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Word Count: ~4,800
Beta: all hail notboldly50295
Warnings: Crack! Bizarre Vulcan genitals! The usual graphic pornography native to all my fic! Blatant abuse of science and the VLD! Copious schmoop!
Disclaimer: Under no circumstances am I affiliated with Star Trek or anyone who owns Star Trek. No money made, no offense or copyright infringement intended.
Summary: First Officer Spock, possessed of an efficient Vulcan male reproductive system, has never spared much thought to its illogical human counterpart. Until he interrupts his captain’s private time.
Lessons in Anatomy
Spock had never given much thought to the appearance and physiology of male human genitals before. Truthfully, he found them a tedious and inefficient set of parts; that human males were so obsessed with their own genitalia would have perplexed him were his mind given to such low wanderings. As a cadet, he became inured to the sight of such dull cuts of flesh in quite short a space of time; his roommate, Keith Mahmud, had not been fond of undergarments during sleep, or during idle moments, or during study hours, or whenever he was spending time in their shared quarters. Indeed, all clothing seemed to offend his sensibilities.
“It’s freeing,” Cadet Mahmud often said. “All that polyester and elastic, man, it confines. It chafes.” He would make a dismissive gesture toward Spock’s cadet reds, which were made from synthetic fibers designed to slick away moisture and promote good posture. “You should try it sometime. It’s a whole new world, bud.”
“There are many new worlds discovered yearly,” Spock might say in answer. “I do not know all their cultures’ stances on raiment.”
Cadet Mahmud would sigh in resignation and scratch idly at his vulnerable testicles, and Spock would push from his thoughts any consideration of those thoroughly unimpressive pendulums and onto more worthy subjects.
It occurred to Spock, many years later as he burst into the captain’s quarters at the sound of a worrying thud, that in all his years sharing space with Mahmud and communal showers with fellow gym-goers and prison cells with his commanding officers on hostile planets, he had never seen the human phallus in quite so shocking a state as he did now on his captain. Protruding like an angry sea-beast from his captain’s groin was a priapism so acute that Kirk grimaced even as he gripped it in a valiant effort to contain what must have been great agony. Such inflated proportions were unnatural to the point that it disquieted even Spock’s collected mind, and he decided it must have been caused by some dastardly foreign substance to which the captain had fallen victim.
“Captain! You’ve been injured!”
“Fuck, Spock! What the hell!” Kirk scrambled to cover himself with a sheet, his face and bare chest mottled with a dark blush that only emphasized the startling blue of his wide eyes.
Spock was at his captain’s side at once, checking for further injuries even as he activated his personal comm device and called for the only person who could ease such a troubling condition. “Dr. McCoy - you are required in the captain’s quarters immediately. Spock out.”
“Jesus! Spock - stop, stop.” He grabbed Spock’s comm with sweaty fingers and wrenched it away from him. “McCoy,” he barked, “belay that order. All’s well - activate Code Vulcan Idiot. Kirk out.”
“Damnit, Jim!”
“Captain, I must insist-”
“Hey! Insist nothing! I was having a bit of - ah - private time, Spock, and there’s nothing wrong, okay? I’m fine!”
Spock’s hands lay heavy on his captain’s shoulders, and beneath the sheet Spock noted that the terrible elephantiasis that had stricken Kirk’s genitals had abated.
“This is most fortunate,” he said. “You are well again. I will have the ventilation system thoroughly decontaminated, and perhaps Mr. Scott can arrange an upgrade for the filtration.”
Kirk’s hands covered his face and he gave a muffled moan.
“Captain? Is there still pain?” Spock’s hands skimmed the well-muscled chest to ascertain the absence of palpitations before his fingers came to rest on the edge of the sheet and he made to snatch it away for inspection. Kirk’s hands darted from his own face to close around Spock’s wrists.
“Spock.” Spock met Kirk’s eyes, a shock of blue. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen an erect human penis before.”
“Negative, Captain. I do not take your meaning.”
“Never watched porn? Never - you know, walked in on someone like this before?”
“I am accustomed to seeing the human organs bare, Captain.”
“Spock. I don’t mean the standard flaccid junk dangling around. Oh my God, we’re actually having this conversation right now.”
“Captain, perhaps you should reconsider seeing Dr. McCoy. You appear confounded by your ordeal.”
Kirk heaved a great sigh and slid his posterior over. He patted the space he’d just left in a gesture Spock had come to understand indicated an invitation to sit. Spock sat. Where his clothed arm met Kirk’s bare one, a heat began to grow.
“Spock.” His captain took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, controlled exhale. “I don’t know about Vulcans - never took that class - but during, um, arousal, the human penis… increases in size.” He cleared his throat and wrung his hands together. “Usually. So. There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine.”
Spock stared at the strong-boned profile of his commanding officer. At the crown of his head, sweat glistened and darkened his hairline. His lashes were thick and long, and his pink mouth was swollen, parted, taking in breath. He smelled clean and dark and enticing. Spock blinked.
“I do not understand.”
Blue eyes closed, lashes a delicate fan against smooth skin. When Kirk opened them again, he stared straight ahead and would not meet Spock’s gaze.
“What don’t you understand, Spock?”
“You say this is a common state for a human male. And yet I have never seen its equal.”
Kirk’s wet mouth spread and the entirety of his countenance lifted with laugh number fourteen, which Spock catalogued as occurring when the captain was both amused and affectionate, and it sent Kirk’s head back and exposed the beguiling line of his throat. Something unnamable fluttered and swelled in Spock’s side; he made a note to have the ventilation and filtration systems checked regardless of Kirk’s insistence otherwise, because a pollutant had surely infiltrated the Enterprise for him to feel so weighted about the lungs.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment and put it in the spank bank no matter what else happens in the course of this conversation.”
“‘Spank bank’, sir?”
Kirk waved his hand, grin number thirty-seven endearingly crooked as he leveled it at Spock, baring the slight imperfections in his lower teeth. “Colloquialism. Never mind. Look Spock. You’re a scientist. Was human anatomy and physiology not a part of your curriculum?”
“Body parts and system functions, yes, but not… practical display.”
“Ah. Well. Now you know.”
“I am still unsure of …why.”
“Why, what?”
“Why does it grow so? The male organ of Vulcans does not, even during the act of copulation. All the human phalli I have observed in the open have been small and inert, and I had no cause to believe such a transformation would take place during arousal. Indeed, I find them a rather uninteresting subject to be the topic of so much preoccupation, and if I were prone to wondering about the mechanics of such an organ, I would be curious as to its efficacy for sexual pleasure and insemination. But I am not.”
“Spock. Well. I guess Vulcans aren’t growers?”
“Again, I am unable to divine your meaning.”
Kirk leaned back and took with him the human heat of his bare arm. He maneuvered so his back was against the pillows and the bulkhead, and Spock regarded him from his twisted position at the edge of the bed. Kirk wore smile number twenty-four - subheading: smirk - contemplative and calculating.
“Many human males are often… let’s say ‘diminutive’ - when they’re not ready for some action. In their resting state, I mean. So when they get an erection, the penis gets a lot bigger by comparison. Catch my meaning?”
“I see.” Spock, in fact, saw nothing. His own Vulcan apparatus did not change in size during tumescence; indeed, it merely hardened for ease of penetration. He considered the quality of the penile tissue of the human male, for it to display such elastic willingness to accommodate. Underneath the Starfleet issue black trousers that Spock removed only during sleep and meditation, a hot heaviness began to stir.
“Anyway. Sorry to worry you. I won’t accidentally kick anything in my enthusiasm next time. “ Kirk had plastered on his face smile number seven: polite but insincere, somehow curving downward in as oxymoronic a show as a human expression could contain, it did not crinkle around his eyes. Spock had seen it aimed at diplomats and dignitaries and obnoxious clan leaders across the galaxy. Kirk used smile number seven to get rid of people. But with a moment’s courageous abandon, Spock hesitated.
“Jim?”
Blue eyes crinkled - seven warmed into twelve.
“What is it, Spock?”
“May I beg a practical demonstration of human erectile prowess?”
Kirk huffed out laugh number seventeen: surprised and delighted. His hands reached out, but stopped just short of grasping Spock’s own. Spock met him the rest of the way and tangled their fingers in a heady, dizzying clasp. He drew a sharp, convulsive breath and met Kirk’s eyes, which shone hopeful and excited.
“Spock, I’ve been waiting two years to hear you say exactly that.”
Kirk pulled Spock into the waiting circle of his arms, and together they fell into a kiss as hot and slick as it was ardent and distracting, and before he could analyze what had happened, Spock found himself divested of his uniform and flush against the nude feast of his captain’s body.
The rampant erection of startling proportions was back, straining hot against Spock’s own abdomen. Spock tore his mouth from Kirk’s and peered at the tumid monstrosity, uncaring of the way his mouth gaped at the sight. He could hear Kirk’s heavy breath, but his senses were consumed by Kirk’s intoxicating penis - sight, smell, and now touch as he set a careful hand on the base and gave an appreciative squeeze. Kirk moaned and Spock, fortified, formed a steady grip and began to pump. Kirk keened and pushed fingers into Spock’s hair, and Spock was overcome with the desire to taste the glorious phallus before him. He was a great believer in appeasing curiosity when it struck, and thus he opened his watering mouth and bent over Kirk’s lap to feed himself his prize.
It was a thick velvet weight on his tongue and filled his mouth with a clean salt flavor that he decided at once was his new preferred taste. Kirk gave a strangled shout even as Spock groaned around the twin sensations of vulnerability and power, and then he set to sucking in earnest.
After interminable minutes during which Spock’s universe had shrunk and fixated on the throbbing length he worshipped, he felt frenzied fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, and then Kirk gasped, “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Kirk hauled him up for another desperate exchange of tooth and tongue, and Spock groaned to feel Kirk’s hands carding through his chest hair, gliding down his pectorals and abdominal muscles until they grasped at Spock’s own genitals.
And paused.
Kirk pulled away and cocked his head, a question in his eyes. Then he craned his neck to look down awkwardly between them. He squeezed, and a breath escaped Spock’s lungs as if forced by a blow.
“Whoa, Spock,” he said.
“What is it, Jim?”
“Um - looks like you’re not the only one woefully ignorant about foreign cock over here.”
Spock slid off of his companion and half onto his side. His penile apparatus, framed by a neat thicket of black hair, arched upward as if in greeting, and from its depths peeked the eager, slender green head of his pistol, quivering in its readiness. He looked at it with dispassion. He considered it an efficient organ, but not an interesting one, like he’d suddenly come to believe about Kirk’s.
“It is as it has always been when stimulated.”
Kirk sat up, cock waving a cheery salute as it bounced against thigh and stomach. He situated himself on his knees straddled over Spock’s legs, and as he leaned in close to Spock’s penis, Spock felt a curious disquiet about being the subject of such intent inspection. Kirk’s brows had drawn downward and created a groove of concentration on his forehead.
“Does - does its appearance not please you?” Spock ventured.
“No! No, it’s great. Awesome. I just… what’s it all about? What’s this?” One of Kirk’s fingers tapped the bulbous head of his pistol and Spock gasped, limbs jerking reflexively. “Oh my God, sorry!” Kirk held his hands up as if in surrender.
“No apologies necessary,” Spock said, breathless. “That is the lok - ah - my penis proper, or pistol, if you will. It stimulates and inseminates. When not in use, it is flaccid and rests within this sheath.” Spock gripped the thick shaft of his sav’el, which had also grown hard from amorous engagement and stood at attention a few incalculable inches shorter than the length of Jim’s whole delectable cock. “When engorged, the lok is limitedly prehensile, and though the entire penile apparatus is used in penetration, the lok extends further than you see now and engages in its own movements.”
“Holy fuck,” Kirk breathed. He reached out tentative fingers, and Spock grasped them, set them to the velveteen gathering of skin around mouth of his sav’el. Viscous lubricant dribbled out in a generous dollop, and the lok poked further outward and pressed its own smooth length into Kirk’s hand.
“Like this,” Spock said, and he closed Jim’s fingers gently around the slick head, encouraging a soft rolling motion that made his back arch and his skin sing. His eyes rolled back and slid shut, and he couldn’t help but to moan aloud as his head pushed back against Kirk’s pillow. “The lok,” he panted, “is where the majority of my sexual pleasure nerves are located. Ah, Jim, you’re-”
The lok extended even more and began to thrust. Helpless and mindless, nerves ablaze, Spock lost all capacity for verbal communication and let his hips undulate to follow the whims of his lok.
“So, like, this lock thing, I mean-” Kirk swallowed. “How - how far will it go?”
“Nngh.”
“Hey Spock? Every dude in the history of the galaxy has measured his junk, even logical Vulcans. So. Give it to me straight.”
Spock forced his eyes open and schooled his tongue for words. It struck him then that Kirk looked perfect as he was now- naked, looming over him, Spock’s lok in hand like something precious.
With some difficulty, he answered Kirk: “My sav’el has a penetrative length of approximately fourteen centimeters, and my lok at its longest will reach a further nine.”
“So full depth of penetration is, what, nine inches? And this sweet little dealy moves around on its own?” As if for emphasis, Kirk rolled his lok in his palm, and Spock whimpered. He gasped out an answer in the affirmative, and then Kirk was pushing his legs apart and hunkering down between them, mouth open and eyes zealous at the sight of Spock’s pistol. He paused then. “Hey Spock?” Spock made an inarticulate choking sound he could only hope - most illogically - sounded like an encouraging reply. “Where are your balls?”
“In - in -”
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” And with that, Kirk swallowed the exposed length of Spock’s lok while he squeezed around his sav’el with both broad hands. Spock arched, a guttural, garbled sound erupting from his throat, and his hands made talons in the sheets. His lok plunged forward and back madly in the vacuum of Kirk’s sweet, wet mouth, and hooked on Kirk’s shoulders, Spock’s legs began to tremble. Kirk hummed around it as if it were a particularly pleasing sweet, and Spock’s vision blurred.
Kirk slid his hands under Spock’s backside and lifted him upward. He let Spock’s penile apparatus slip from his mouth and he followed the trail of hair lower, between the cheeks of his buttocks that he pressed apart. He licked along the perineum, which was a curious if not exactly pleasurable sensation, and then paused.
And pulled back.
And sat on his haunches.
Spock pried his eyes open again and lifted a brow in question. Kirk was boggling at him, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed even as he occupied both his hands with their two needful cocks.
“Jim?”
“You don’t - you don’t have an asshole.”
Spock let himself frown. “Of course not, Jim,” he said. “In this, I am fully Vulcan.”
Laugh number twenty-three bubbled out then, a nervous stutter that bordered on the hysterical. Spock propped himself up on his elbows and blinked away the lust-bleariness from his eyes.
“Jim?”
“I’m missing some vital information again. Where - I mean, how -”
Spock ran a hand down his stomach and gripped his penis loosely. He tamed his lok as best he could, and with a gentle thumb, he coaxed open the wide hole at its summit. It was a larger orifice than the human urethra, as it had more to accommodate.
“This is my krau,” he said. “Vulcans produce only one type of waste other than sweat, and we rid ourselves of it quite neatly this way, provided we are not ill. Both males and females have a krau, though the vagina of the female is separate for sexual activity and childbirth, and males also expel seminal fluid from the krau. The best comparison is to that of the cloaca of some Terran fauna.”
“Oh my god, like a bird?”
“It is but an approximation, Jim, and a poor one at that. What’s the matter?”
Kirk shook his head as if brushing away cobwebs.
“Nothing,” he said, “nothing. It’s just. Surprising? I mean. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Do you wish to stop?” Spock gave up logic to indulge for a moment in focusing the force of all his energies toward the hope that Kirk wanted no such thing.
Kirk stretched himself along Spock’s own lean length. He lined up their mouths, ran a finger down the bony protrusion of Spock’s prominent nose, and looked into the depths of Spock’s eyes.
“Nope,” he said against Spock’s lips. “I pretty much wanna do this forever. You’re just gonna have to - tell me what you like. What you wanna do. I have a feeling both of our expectations for this are kinda out the window, so we get to build - whatever we have here - up from scratch. It’s new, Spock. And it’s me and you.”
The kiss that ensued was a tender exploration that belied the animal lusts that had beset them at the outset of this venture. But Kirk’s hard cock was insistent against Spock’s sav’el , and Spock’s lok had almost reached full extension, and their shallow thrusts against each other’s genitals were proving quickly inadequate.
“Here,” Spock said, and stilled both their movements. He took hold of Kirk’s cock. The loose foreskin reminded him of his sav’el, and he pushed it back to expose the raw pink of Kirk’s glans. He threw one leg over both of Kirk’s and guided their genitals together. He snugged the blunt, glistening head of Kirk’s cock into the slick mouth of his sav’el, where his lok rose up in eager greeting and rubbed against its newfound companion. Spock shuddered and grunted, eyes fluttering shut. Kirk’s hand joined his to steady the driving force of cock against cock, and their mouths sought and found each other in the humid space between them. “Yes,” Spock murmured, a sibilant hiss. He thrust more deliberately, and his lok drummed a wet, maddening rhythm against Kirk’s cock with increasing speed. But Kirk gripped around the base of his sav’el and stopped their riotous hurtle toward climax.
“Spock? Do you want to fuck me?”
Spock hummed out a questioning note, hoarse.
Kirk swallowed and brought his hands up around Spock’s face. His thumbs toyed with Spock’s mouth, and Spock flickered his tongue out in welcome.
“It was what I thought I’d like to do with you, before, you know, your lock and crow. But. I’ve thought about it this way too. During private time. You get the mechanics of it?”
“In theory,” Spock croaked. At thirty standard years, he was neither a total innocent nor a virgin, despite his reserved nature, and he had heard of the propensity of humans to insert objects and phalli into their recta for sexual gratification. If his mind were prone to thoughts of prurience, which it was not, he would have wondered how such a thing could engender enjoyment - certainly he had never sought to fill the nerveless passage of his krau with sundry items in pursuit of sexual satisfaction - but he supposed if the human penis could be as pleasing as he now found it, the human anus might prove so as well.
“Do you wanna try with me?” Blue eyes like a calm, clear sea, open and deep.
“I find I never wish to deprive you of your desires, Jim,” he said.
Kirk huffed out a soft laugh number sixty-three - it was new, and it radiated contentment and a pulsing, living affection of fathomless depth, and Spock committed it to memory as something wholly his own, a gift from James Kirk to Spock of Vulcan in a moment of perfect intimacy.
“I’m gonna remember this next time you berate me on an away mission.”
Spock closed his mouth over Kirk’s, swallowed his words, and once again they were two bodies united in pleasure. At last Kirk gave him a heavy-lidded look and turned over to present his unblemished backside, firm and muscled and round, finely dusted with golden down. Lubricant oozed from Spock’s sav’el at the sight, and in his side his heart gave a curious quake. He moaned and bent low to press his fervent mouth and tongue to the dip of Kirk’s tailbone. His hands roamed the muscled expanse of Kirk’s back until they came to rest on the tender swell of his buttocks. Spock kneaded him there until he drew back and parted the cheeks with a measure of caution. Beneath his hands, he felt Kirk sigh.
The anus was a wrinkled, closed aperture edged by a smattering of bronze hair, and it was impossibly small - smaller even than Spock had expected, if he had expectations - and though he had never given this human body part any passing consideration in the past, its sight now jolted him with bright flares to send into the smoldering embers of his heavy arousal. He moaned and ran a fingertip over its surface in an experimental touch. It winked against his sensitized flesh and from Spock’s throat came a helpless whimper.
“Jim,” he whispered. “It’s -” beautiful, perfect, intoxicating “- too small.”
He could see Kirk’s face in profile against the pillow, and he found new smile -number eighty-four - to be one of beatific satisfaction.
“It’ll stretch, you’ll see. You just have to be gentle. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
“Use your tongue. On and around and inside. It’ll relax the muscle, and then you can use your fingers, and then you can put that gorgeous cock in me, okay?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Under Spock’s tongue, Kirk’s anus spasmed and quavered, and Kirk began to writhe and push back into Spock’s face, the space of the cabin filling with his moans. He reached back and spread himself wide for Spock’s ministrations even as he humped his penis into the mattress. Spock steadied him by the hips and set to his task with intensive determination. He found in the act a powerful intimacy, and even as his lok thrummed with thwarted arousal and his sav’el produced copious lubrication in preparation, he felt a profound gratitude steal over him to be allowed this singular communion with his lover.
Kirk calling his name in an agonized elongation of the vowel snapped Spock from his reverie, and he removed his face from the blissful crevice between Kirk’s buttocks.
“Yes, Jim? Is this adequate?”
“Adequate! Yes! God, yes, Spock, can you please finger me now? Please?’
“I live to serve,” Spock said, and he pressed his middle finger into Kirk’s anus, which accepted it with hungry verve.
Kirk gave a choked off grunt and demanded more. Spock obliged, and within minutes he was thrusting a cluster of three fingers in and out of Kirk’s tight hole. With 78.45% certainty, Spock believed they could both have an orgasm at this form of stimulation alone, and he abandoned himself to the hot push and pull of Kirk’s sphincter around his fingers. But then Kirk pushed him back and disengaged his hand, and before he could process the development, Kirk laid him out flat on his back and hovered over his groin, ready. Again he paused.
“Spock? Can you - er, get him to go back in his house so I can get it inside me? I don’t want to hurt him.”
Spock glanced down at his energetic lok, fully distended and practically dancing with ambition, and he understood Kirk’s concern if not his need to personify body parts. He shut his eyes and willed his arousal down until the lok had diminished into his sav’el and only the rounded, key lime head gleamed slick from the folds of skin. Kirk hummed his approval and sank down to accept the length of Spock’s thick sav’el into his body. When Spock was in up to the hilt, Kirk pinned him with a penetrating gaze, his mouth hanging open as if in disbelief. There passed between them a boundless understanding, untouched by time. Then Kirk gave a tremulous variation on smile eighty-four.
“Spock,” he gasped. “Oh God.”
Inside Kirk, Spock’s lok surged up and sent both of them shuddering, shouting, and Kirk braced himself on Spock’s corded thighs to arch back and take him deeper. Spock gripped Kirk’s hips with bruising force and set a rhythm that had Kirk rising and falling on his sav’el, babbling filthy nonsense, jerking his own cock as if in punishment. Spock’s lok thrust its slim length into the smooth, tight heat of Kirk’s depths, rubbed along the accommodating walls, pressed with preternatural intent on the gland that sent Kirk screaming.
Spock planted the soles of his feet on the bed and brought his knees up to support Kirk’s back. He pulled himself into a sitting position and gathered Kirk close. There was a stillness as they gazed at each other, and then they began to pitch and writhe against one another once again, the point of their connection reduced to a full, throbbing unity. In the heated tangle of limbs and tongues, chest on chest, cock against stomach, Kirk and Spock sought union, affirmation, completion.
Kirk’s orgasm came first, heralded by hitching breath, and his body tightened and jerked even as Spock held him steady and encouraged the spurts of creamy ejaculate onto his chest. Kirk quavered with aftershocks until he slumped forward and nestled his head into Spock’s neck with a sucking kiss.
The wracking spasms of Kirk’s body trilled at Spock’s lok from within, and Spock gripped the globes of Kirk’s ass hard enough to cause pain, but he was unable to contain himself. He felt the inexorable approach of orgasm and abandoned himself to sensation. Climax came as a blast that lit his spine, his nerves, his fingertips, his lok, and every synapse in his brain. Deep inside his captain, his lover, Spock pumped a torrent of viscous Vulcan semen.
They found themselves prone on the bed, panting in the aftermath, and Kirk moved just enough to extricate Spock’s organ from his rectum. They lay a pair of boneless bodies collapsed together for an indeterminate number of minutes, Kirk’s semen matting Spock’s chest hair. He was sure that from Kirk’s anus leaked an uncomfortable mixture of ejaculate and lubricant. Spock could not muster the energy to find this an unacceptable level of hygiene maintenance.
“Wow,” Kirk said as he marveled at the mundane curl of Spock’s limp sav’el and ran scrutinizing fingers around the base. The spent lok had retreated into obscurity in its depths. “So you’re really packing that hunk of meat in your briefs all the time, huh? It doesn’t go down at all?”
“It is ‘down’, Jim,” Spock murmured. He snuck a peek at Kirk’s own damp penis, flushed still with exertion, but diminished, flaccid and innocuous, as he was accustomed to seeing such things. He found he wished to incite it to size again, as soon as he could feel his spine. “It is merely soft, now that you have sated me so.”
Spock catalogued the smile that statement elicited as number eighty-five: helpless adoration.
Kirk began to play with Spock’s fingers. In the quiet dimness and solitude of the captain’s quarters, Spock let his lips relax, and if that was Spock smile number one, he could live with it.
End
Illustration by the immensely talented cannedebonbon