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Amok Time Rebooted

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Spock was waiting for them, watching as the shuttlecraft landed on the pad, and the two young men walked up the hill to his house. His younger self was unsteady on his feet, the demands of pon farr taking its toll on his coordination. Kirk hovered behind him, trying not to be too solicitous, but apparently failing since his younger counterpart turned and snapped at him several times.

"You expected us," Spock said as they approached him.

"I have lived through this."

"Then you know what I seek."

"I will help you if I can."

"I still don't know," Kirk said, his patience beginning to wear thin. "Someone want to fill me in on the big mystery?"

"Your presence was not required," the young Spock growled.

The older Spock smoothly inserted, "Come into my house." He turned to walk in, letting them follow. He wondered if his younger self would appreciate the design he'd chosen for his private retreat on new Vulcan. The house would have pleased him when he was a young man, as his taste in architecture had never varied much in his life. But he was not this Spock. Events had changed in this alternate reality, even before Nero's arrival and the destruction of the U.S.S. Kelvin.

Of course, his younger self had more pressing concerns on his mind than admiring the décor.

"Nice place," Kirk commented. He flung himself into one of the low chairs in the main living area, one leg draped carelessly over an arm. "So what's up?"

Young Spock sank to his knees on the floor, back stiff, fingers laced together. "Will you explain?"

Spock spoke quickly but succinctly. He described the seven year cycle of pon farr, of Vulcan needs and their uncontrollable urgency, of the death of his fiancée in this timeline.

"So why come here? Wouldn't we have been better off on a pleasure planet?"

"I will not slake myself on whores," the younger Spock snarled at Kirk.

"Or better yet, we could have stayed on the Enterprise…with Uhura…your girlfriend," Kirk added.

"She is human."

Spock could see that Kirk didn't understand, and hastened to explain. "Vulcan strength is considerably greater than a human's, particularly during pon farr. The risk to a human female would be considerable."

"But wasn't your mom – "

"Enough! We are not here to satiate every facet of your curiosity." Spock turned to look at his older self. "Will you assist me in meditation? It is the only solution."

"It will be difficult to attain the proper meditative state," Spock felt compelled to warn, concerned that his younger self was already too deeply in the grip of pon farr.

"We must try."

Spock nodded his willingness, and knelt in front of himself. Their hands reached out simultaneously, fingers spread to rest on each other's face, their voices intoning, "My mind to your mind." Spock had studied Vulcan discipline for decades, and he knew the mind he was touching. At least, he thought he did, and perhaps that was part of the problem. Himself, and yet not. His decision to reject the Vulcan Science Academy for Star Fleet had been more considered, less rash. He'd never made love to Uhura; he would never even have contemplated such an affair. His mother died of extreme old age, not accidently in the prime of her human life. A million similarities; a dozen crucial differences.

"Is this working?"

"No," both Spocks replied, one concerned, the other frustrated.

"It didn't look like it was," Kirk said, coming to stand by them. Spock was only now conscious of having registered Kirk's quiet pacing and the attention with which he'd studied the books on the shelves as they had meditated.

"Did you have any useful input?" the younger Spock asked, dropping his hand from the older Spock's face.

"I've always been a direct approach guy." Kirk dropped to one knee, pushing on his second-in-command's chest. Spock opened his mouth to warn him of the possible consequences, and stopped, because it was already too late. The abrupt action had surprised his younger self, whose body dropped to the ground, and with a few, deft motions, Kirk had yanked down his pants, pulled out his erection, and slid his mouth over the head.

In the almost two centuries of his life, Spock had seen many acts of sex, loving and reverent, illicit and raunchy, but he had never seen his own dick sucked, never seen his own hands curl into a man's hair, never watched his body writhe in passion. He felt his own body warm, his penis rise in response, and realized with distant concern that he might have been affected by his younger self's pon farr, the mind meld not fully broken.

"You don't know what you're doing," Spock gasped, even as he thrust up into Kirk's mouth.

Kirk dragged his mouth off Spock's penis, leaving it wet and shiny as he grinned. "Oh, I think I do. I know exactly what I'm doing." He returned to his ministrations, and Spock could tell that indeed, he knew a great deal about fellatio. The passionate reaction of his younger self was proof.

But Kirk didn't understand pon farr, and he didn't know what he'd unleashed.


This might end up being the stupidest thing he'd ever done, Jim considered, his mind trying to ignore the possible ramifications even as his mouth was fully occupied in its task. Spock's cock was long, lean, stiff, and faintly green-colored, just like him, but unabashed in the passion that Spock tried to hide, leaking a bitter fluid and quivering with the strain of needing to come. All in all, quite a nice cock, filling Jim's mouth perfectly as he devoted himself to giving Spock a fantastic blow job.

How would his ever-so-restrained first officer react when this was done? Recriminations and ranting seemed unlikely, though no one had expected Spock to throw soup at the nice nurse either. For someone who was usually so logical, Spock could be shockingly emotional, as evidenced by their first mission when he'd tried to strangle Jim.

Spock's hands pressed tighter around Jim's head, and he gave up worrying, focusing his concentration on his present circumstances, where his first officer seemed to be trying to suffocate him with his dick. Jim twisted his body to lie between Spock's legs, his hands squeezing Spock's thighs, letting himself rock with the rise and fall of Spock's hips, the thrust of Spock's cock down his throat.

Then Spock yelled, a sharp, loud noise, as he came in Jim's mouth. Jim focused on swallowing, but a few drops escaped, landing on Spock's uniform trousers still bunched around his hips. Jim felt Spock's body collapse beneath him, utterly exhausted, and was aware of his own erection. He should let it die, he told himself, struggling to sit up, draping his hands over his lap.

Ambassador Spock squatted by them, surprising Jim. He'd been aware the older Spock had left the room when Jim had yanked on Spock's trousers, but he hadn't expected him to return. Watching other people have sex didn't seem like a Vulcan thing to do. "We don't have long if you wish me to try meditation again."

"What's the other option?" Jim asked, confused.

Spock placed a bottle of ointment on the floor. A large tube, Jim noted. "He will soon be ready to continue. Quite possibly for several days."

"Days?" Oops. Maybe he shouldn't have assumed the older Spock was exaggerating in his explanation, but the sex-crazed alien had seemed like such a bad porn cliché.

"What part of uncontrollable urges did you not understand?" Spock asked from the floor. One arm was draped over his eyes, and his voice was more weary than sarcastic. "Spock is right. We need to try meditation now."

Jim looked back and forth between the two Spocks, his first officer and the ambassador he'd become in another reality. "And is that going to work any better than your first attempt?"

"What would you have me do?" Spock rose on his elbows, glaring at Jim. "I can't restrain myself. I will take what my body demands. I will force myself on you, your mouth, your ass, until you are covered in semen."

Only a Vulcan could say something so porny while sounding mildly irritated. "It's not force if I'm willing."

"Jim." The older Spock's voice was strained. "I too am finding myself caught in pon farr. The mind meld was insufficiently broken.

Spock's words made Jim's eyes drop to his crotch and wow, he wasn't kidding. The front of his soft beige trousers was fully distended. "It looks like it's a little too late for meditation for you too."

"It may be," Spock agreed.

"Well, you guys can try thinking hard if you want," Jim said, standing, arching his back a little as he pulled his yellow and black shirts over his head. They watched him, two sets of identical dark eyes captivated by the ripple of his abdominal muscles, and it made him feel hot, sexy in a way he hadn't allowed himself to feel since he'd busted out of Iowa for Star Fleet. "I'll just be ready in case it fails," he added, tossing his shirts toward a chair, toeing off his boots.

"By stripping in front of us, you are guaranteeing it will fail," Spock snapped, his voice full-out waspish now. Jim grinned, well familiar with that particular tone from his first officer, when he was trying to hide his anger.

"You're the ones who doubted it would work." He shoved his trousers down his hips. "I'm only proactively anticipating a possible outcome."

"Jim," the older Spock said, his voice full of yearning. The emotional need startled Jim, who paused in his undressing. Spock's hands cupped his hips. His skin was wrinkled with age, but his grip was strong. Jim almost expected him to suck his cock, but instead he rose, more nimbly than most people half his age, and brought their lips together. Damn, Spock knew how to kiss, his tongue making itself at home in Jim's mouth with an assertiveness that bordered on aggression.

Then the younger Spock's hands also were on his hips, and how freaky was that? Weirder than sex with twins, and Jim had thought that night was pretty damn odd. Spock stripped off Jim's trousers, Jim obediently lifting one foot after the other. Then he was the naked filling in a Spock sandwich, the older still kissing him, the younger standing behind him, his lips exploring the back of Jim's neck and shoulders.

Jim took the opportunity to explore in return, tugging at clothes wherever he could, mentally comparing the hard, lean bodies, trying to tell them apart by touch. They were identical in bone structure, and almost in their muscles, like they'd both done the same type of exercise all their lives. Older Spock's shoulders and hips seemed slightly wider, as if age had broadened him, and his skin felt dryer, more wrinkles marring its smoothness.

The younger Spock must have found the ointment, because an oiled finger slipped into Jim's ass, and he hissed with surprise into Spock's mouth.

"You did understand what you were asking for?" Spock asked in Jim's ear, already adding a second finger to the first.

"Christ, Spock, since I first saw you, except you were such an asshole," Jim admitted, turning his head to look behind him.


"You're smart, you're hot. Your only flaw is you always think you're right. Oh!" Jim added, because Spock had inserted a third finger, twisting all three just so, hitting Jim's prostate dead center.

"Where did you learn that?"

"I don't know," the older Spock said, though the question wasn't directed at him. "I hadn't learned that then. But I have learned this now." He sank to his knees and put his exceedingly clever mouth to use on Jim's cock, just as the other Spock thrust in. Jim yelled, threading his fingers through Spock's silvered hair, and muttered obscenities under his breath, because if any situation demanded cursing, it was this one.

Jim had been trained to stand upright on a spaceship under attack, but it was a good thing that both Spocks were holding him now, because he couldn't have kept his feet under the dual combination of having his dick sucked, his ass fucked, and his mind absolutely blown by two Vulcans.

"I thought you'd be looser," Spock panted gutturally in his ear, still thrusting relentlessly.

"Being a role model sucks," Jim moaned. He'd put so much behind him, but the Enterprise was worth it.

Spock released his cock, and Jim whined to lose the hot pressure. "It'll be worth it," he said, as if he'd read Jim's mind.

"It already is and aren't you two supposed to be out of your minds with lust? Why are we talking?" He thrust his hips forward, aiming his dick at Spock's mouth. Fortunately, the gesture was understood, and his cock restored to its haven.

"All fuck, no talk?" Spock asked, and how the hell could he sound so mocking with his dick buried in his Captain's ass? "As you wish, sir."

And neither Spock spoke again, both dedicating themselves to Jim, to turning him inside out, one Spock plowing his ass as if his hips were dilithium powered, the other licking and sucking his cock until Jim came screaming, "Spock!" not even knowing whether he meant both or one in particular.

They helped him lie down afterwards, and Jim sprawled, all loose-limbed and relaxed, uncaring of his nudity but watching avidly as both Spocks stripped off their remaining clothes.

His Spock touched his own cock, stroking it a few times, and was hard again, even though his come was still trickling out of Jim's ass. "I did tell you this wouldn't end quickly," he said, lowering himself to lie on top of Jim.

Jim curled his legs around Spock's hips and reached out to the kneeling Ambassador, wrapping his hand around his cock, beginning to stroke. "You're talking again," he complained.


Spock woke completely, instantly, as was his habit, aware that his body was lethargic, and yet still in the final stages of pon farr, when passion was dying and could be controlled by meditation. Or revived with a single thought.

He'd copulated with his captain, several times, he and the other Spock using Jim in every conceivable position that two men could use a third. Jim had loved it all, though despite his pliancy, he'd still had attitude. Spock had started to come out of his daze at one point, conscious that Star Fleet would frown on this activity, and tried to remove his cock from Jim's mouth, one side of Jim's stretched lips tilting up as he sucked harder. Only James Tiberius Kirk could smirk around a mouthful of cock. Spock had grabbed the back of Jim's neck, and fucked his mouth hard, not releasing until he had come, pouring deep into Jim's throat. As soon as Spock withdrew, the other Spock had been there, making Jim take his cock while swallowing. Jim had moaned, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure, one side of his mouth still tilted in that cocky smile.

The memory of Jim's enthusiasm had been unwise because definitely yes, Spock's body wasn't free of pon farr, his cock pressing against the sheet. He was alone in the bed, blankets tucked around him, as if someone wanted him to stay comfortable. Slipping out of bed, Spock discovered that his and Jim's clothes were in neat stacks on a dresser. He pulled on his uniform bottoms and walked into the hallway, his feet quiet on the tile floor as he headed to the kitchen, guided by the faint sound of voices.

At the end of the hallway, he stopped, able to see Jim in the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet. His captain wore only his white underwear, a yellowish bruise in the shape of a handprint prominent on the hip that Spock could see. He was eating from a bowl, listening to the older Spock.

"Our relationship was simply not the same as yours with Spock. We were the closest of friends, but that was all. It was a different generation."

"It was the same generation," Jim said to the older Spock. "It was this generation."

"And yet not, as so many things are in this timeline."

"All I can say is that the other me lost out."

"Then you do not regret what happened."

In an uncharacteristic display of hesitation, Jim poked at his food. "Only if he does. Only if he won't forgive me."

"There is one way in which you and my Jim are completely identical. If you want something, you will make it happen. And I think he may be less displeased with what happened then you think."

Jim smiled, his shy smile that people rarely saw, then glanced into the hallway as Spock walked forward, revealing his presence. "Spock."

"Jim. Spock." Jim's lips were swollen like they always were after a fight, but this time from kissing, and his neck and chest bore several bruises from love bites. The handprint bruises were on the inside of his thighs as well as both hips. Spock glanced at his older self, who was fully dressed in the long robe and sandals he always wore when planning a walk of some duration. "You are leaving us?"

"I am planning on a meditation walk. I will be gone overnight."

"I thank you for your assistance, Spock." The ambassador had provided a great deal of help, the touch of his mind from the meld lingering, keeping Spock restrained. Through the link, Spock had seen the original pon farr, when the ambassador had been so out of control that he would have killed his captain without McCoy's intervention.

Spock nodded to his younger self, and left the house without further ceremony. There was nothing else to say.

"He's just going?"

"Yes." Spock took the bowl and spoon out of Jim's hands, setting them on the counter, and holding out his hand. "And there is nothing to forgive."

Jim took his hand, curling their fingers together. "Uhura?"

"We are friends only now, and have been for some time."

"Good," Jim replied. "And the pon farr?"

"Another day should see it satisfied."

Jim grinned, clearly happy now that he'd been absolved of his minor concern about encouraging raunchy sex to satisfy a biological condition. Or perhaps because Spock had indicated his willingness to engage in more raunchy sex, with just the two of them. The man was incorrigible. Brave, determined, often right, frequently reckless, and absolutely incorrigible. "Lead the way, Spock."

As ever, Spock obeyed his captain.

~ the end ~