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Relieved of Command

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The last thing Captain James Tiberius Kirk could remember involved sparring with his first officer, Mister Spock, in the gymnasium. How then, Jim wondered, had he gotten back to his quarters without remembering it and, additionally, onto his bed? As he blinked in an effort to clear his sluggish mind of its worrisome inability to come up with an answer to this mystery that made rational sense, Kirk realized that he was not alone in his quarters.

He heard the sound of quiet tapping coming from the other side of the mid-room divider that separated his sleeping space from his administrative area. The sound told him that his own neglected work was being finished for him. Only one other person had the authority to take care of his reports in either his absence or when Kirk found himself overwhelmed by it all. “Spock?” he croaked the name, surprised by his own hoarseness.

The tapping stopped. Kirk heard the padd thud onto the surface of his desk as its work and pressing matters were ignored. Yet this person did not speak. Worry coursed through Kirk. Maybe it wasn’t Spock at his desk. Maybe Bones sat there, not Spock. Worse than that, what if it was his personal yeoman? He dismissed the absurd thought as quickly as it came. No yeoman would ever just sit there at his desk while her captain slept mere feet away. He felt ridiculous, and James Kirk did not like feeling ridiculous, particularly in his own quarters, and especially in his own bed.

“Lights ten percent.” That confirmed for Kirk that the mystery person in his quarters to be none other than his loyal first officer. The very first officer with whom Kirk had recently begun a relationship that flirted with the line separating Human dating and Vulcan courtship. The lighting dimmed around him, plunging the room into an ambiance that suggested intimacy. Then Kirk noticed the candles. They were evenly and precisely distributed throughout the sleeping alcove, bathing the area in a warm, sensual, and flickering glow. One flame caught his attention and he stared as its hypnotic dance seduced him into relaxation, barely even remembering that he had never been one to use candles in his quarters. The fire risk alone kept him from using them, no matter how much he enjoyed watching a fire. But he tried as often as possible during shore leaves to either be outside where he could build a controlled fire or, if confined indoors, he would insist on locating sleeping arrangements that contained an old-style fireplace. It relaxed him, and he enjoyed feeling as if the weight of his command could be shed for that brief time in which he gazed into the flames.

Movement in the shadows to his left brought him out of his musing. Kirk looked and saw Spock, dressed in his long, black meditation robe, come around the room divider and stop his approach halfway between the wall and the foot of the bed. “I know how fire is relaxing for you. Is my display acceptable?”

Kirk tilted his head as he studied Spock. Why was Spock suddenly so awkward with him? He’d never been this way before when they were alone. Hell, sometimes he wasn’t even this shy when they were on the bridge and among their crew. He thought about Spock’s question. Is my display acceptable? The wording was vague and uncharacteristically imprecise, which left Kirk uncertain as how to answer. Did Spock refer to the display of the candles he’d arranged, or did Spock mean himself, the one thing in the room that transfixed him since he came into Kirk’s line of sight? In the end, he decided to respond with equal ambiguity. “I wouldn’t exactly call it regulation, Mister Spock.”

Spock ducked his head endearingly. The action alone made Kirk smile fondly. “I had surmised such, Captain.”

Kirk’s smile grew. “Spock, I’m lying on my bed. You’re standing at the foot of it. Please don’t call me ‘captain.’”

As though Kirk had given Spock an order, the Vulcan straightened his posture. For a moment, Kirk thought his playful comment had somehow offended Spock. However, as soon as Spock worried his bottom lip with his teeth, he understood that, for some reason unclear, his lover had suddenly grown nervous. “Spock?” In response, Spock lowered his gaze to the floor, still chewing on his lip. Kirk propped himself up on his elbows, his concern growing with every second. “Spock,” he said in a gentle voice so as not to spook him. “Is something wrong?”

Spock shook his head with the smallest of movements. “Negative, Jim.” He swallowed. “I am—” He struggled to find the appropriate word. “Uncertain as to how I am to proceed at this juncture.”

Kirk frowned, the tension spot in the center of his forehead making an appearance. “What juncture? How is this any different from any other night that we—” The rest of his question died in his throat as Spock unceremoniously undid the fastenings of his meditation robe and slid it from his body, letting it fall to his feet on the floor. It wasn’t the manner in which Spock disrobed in that moment that stole Kirk’s voice from him. It had everything to do with what his lover revealed by removing that dark robe.

Spock stood before him, clearly struggling not to fidget self-consciously, wearing one of Jim’s favorite flannel shirts. And nothing else.

Kirk’s mouth went dry. Spock had never done something like this with him. Was this real? He didn’t dare voice the question. If Spock’s actions were reality, asking that question would shatter not only the mood but also Spock’s already shaky confidence. If these events were not reality, then why would Kirk want to question this fantasy’s legitimacy? Besides, even if he wanted to speak, he couldn’t find his voice in that moment anyway.

So he simply stared, feeling his lips part in a mixture of shock and arousal.

Spock finally raised his eyes to meet Kirk’s wide-blown and lust-filled gaze. “Is this acceptable?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

Kirk’s breath left him in a pathetic sound of disbelief. How could Spock not think this was acceptable? Kirk could think of a hundred things that would not be acceptable in this moment. One of them, the most important one, would be Spock thinking he didn’t want him as he stood there waiting for Kirk’s response. If only he could manage to say something. He tried to clear his throat, to lick his lips, to say anything, but nothing came out. With his voice failing him, he responded with action. Kirk slowly pushed himself up to a seated position first, running his eyes over his lover as he rose. Spock shifted his weight from one foot to the other, indicating his growing unease with his own actions. That would not do any longer, Kirk decided. Not caring how awkward the maneuver may look, Kirk got to his knees on the bed and made his way to the edge until he reached Spock. Once there, he looked into Spock’s nervous eyes and reassured him with a warm smile.

Spock understood his wordless response to his query and instantly the tension in his body lessened.

Kirk, still smiling, took his time as he looked his fill of Spock in nothing but his shore leave flannel shirt. The shirt had always been a bit long on him, but with Spock wearing it, the hem stopped just at a spot on Spock’s legs where, from Kirk’s angle, it only just concealed his Vulcan’s organ. The sight of this shirt on Spock this close further sparked Kirk’s interest, nearly making him lightheaded in his pleasure. He never would have thought that such a sight would cause such a strong reaction in him. Kirk clasped Spock by the biceps firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp from Spock. Their eyes met and the air between them pulsed in anticipation. Spock bent his arms at the elbow to gently hold onto Kirk’s forearms. Spock’s touch compelled Kirk into action once more. He pulled Spock forward and claimed his lips, aborting Spock’s surprised gasp with their kiss, and drowning out the sound with a groan of his own.

“Jim,” Spock whispered as soon as they separated.

Kirk growled wordlessly and pulled Spock to him again, showing him how acceptable he found Spock’s display without saying a word. He ran his hands quickly from Spock’s upper arms, up to his shoulders, around and over the shoulder blades, and down the Vulcan’s sides until he reached his lovers hips. Spock moaned into Kirk’s kiss as his captain mapped his body with his hands like he were exploring uncharted space. Signaling Spock with just the slightest increase of pressure, Kirk pulled him closer by the soft yet commanding grip he had on Spock’s hips.

Spock came to him willingly, allowing his long-fingered hands to explore his captain with gentle curiosity that made him so endearing to Kirk. While Kirk’s hands tended to move together on Spock’s body, Spock alternated the movements of his hands. One stayed still while the other wandered over the muscles hidden by Kirk’s clothing, tracing pulse points until his hand hovered just over Kirk’s heart. Spock pulled away from their kiss breathlessly, silently asking his Human companion for what he wished.

Attuned to him, Kirk understood. With a confident grin, he grabbed the bottom hem of his loose undershirt and pulled the fabric up and away from his body, carelessly tossing it to the side, uncaring of where it ultimately landed. He kept his eyes on Spock, noticing immediately that the Vulcan had lowered his hand as he’d stripped off his shirt. “Is my display acceptable?” he teasingly repeated the question Spock asked of him earlier.

Spock nodded once, sharply. “Affirmative, Captain,” he said as he exhaled.

Kirk chuckled softly to himself, his grin transitioning from confidence in himself to pure fondness for the creature standing before him. “Is that how you want to play this out, Commander?”

The green that spread across Spock’s cheeks as a result of his playful banter made him look both innocent and positively sinful to Kirk in that moment. Spock dropped his gaze and his long, dark eyelashes helped to further hide the insecurity Kirk knew his lover did not wish him to see. “I—I’m—” Spock swallowed. “Jim, I—”

He took mercy on Spock. Kirk, though the movement was not his most fluid in execution, got off the bed to stand in front of Spock. Being a little shorter than the Vulcan, coaxing Spock to look at him again did not require a terrible amount of effort. He knew one of Spock’s favorite gestures, and Kirk used it then, tracing the Vulcan’s jawline with the back of his fingers, unfurling those same fingers as he reached the soft earlobe, then descending again to curl his digits around the column of Spock’s neck, using the pad of his thumb to torturously play with the earlobe he’d only grazed with his touch seconds earlier. Spock’s lips predictably parted in his irrepressible arousal. “Spock,” Kirk called. Spock opened his eyes to find Kirk’s. “You can call me anything you like when we’re alone.”

Spock blinked quickly several times. “Jim,” he whispered. Kirk smiled devilishly at him as he stroked his earlobe, earning him an involuntary gasp from the Vulcan he held captivated. “Jim,” sighed.

“Spock,” Kirk answered, matching the soft tone. He ran his free hand down Spock’s side, down until he reached the edge of the plaid shirt that still concealed the torso of his partner. He fingered the hem of the material teasingly. “Spock,” he said far in the back of his throat, his voice deepening. His other hand did not stay idle. Kirk slowly began to rub the back of Spock’s neck with his fingertips, adding pressure and thus increasing the sensation of that place of contact.

“Jim,” Spock softly moaned at Kirk’s sensual attention to his neck. He raised his hands to rest on Kirk’s shoulders, anchoring himself as he grew further unraveled by his captain’s touch.

Kirk licked his lips as he looked down to where he played with the bottom edge of his shirt that Spock wore. He slipped his hand under the hem and firmly rested his palm on Spock’s lower right side. He felt Spock’s racing heartbeat clearly and he couldn’t help but smile at it, knowing their gentle exploration of each other had excited his otherwise stoic lover to this level of excitement, pleasure, and anticipation. “Spock,” he sighed his lover’s name in awe. “Do you want to—”

Spock planted his hand directly over Kirk’s, raising his blown-wide eyes to meet the Human’s excited gaze. “Jim,” he moaned. “Please.”

With a smile as Spock’s only warning, and with a single movement, Kirk wound his arm around his lover’s waist and pulled Spock hard against him, turned them until they both bumped the foot of the bed, and finally toppled them both onto their sides to land firmly on the mattress of Kirk’s bed. Kirk wasted no time, knowing Spock would be momentarily flustered by their abrupt change in position. He took Spock’s shoulder in one hand and pushed him to lie on his back, following him until he lie draped over the Vulcan, keeping his full weight off of him, but still effectively pinning Spock beneath Kirk. “Spock,” growled low in chest, then pressed forward to steal his partner’s voice and breath from him.

Kirk shoved his arm beneath Spock’s upper back to wind around his shoulders and hold him tightly to himself. He knew Spock could easily break free of his hold if he wished it, but judging by how relaxed the body stayed in his hold, Kirk knew that Spock had no desire to escape his captain. “I love you,” he swore against Spock’s gasping mouth before reinforcing his words with the pressure of his lips against the Vulcan’s. The place of their joining vibrated with Spock’s surprised moan.

That sound, that moan, spurred Kirk into action. He ran his hand down the shirt covering Spock’s body until he could grab hold of the bottom edge. As soon as he could manage, he shoved the fabric up and out of his way to expose the places of Spock’s body that had been hidden by the flannel shirt. Kirk knew his lover’s body well, and did not need his eyes to guide his touch. As he did when they had been standing, he let his palm rest on Spock’s increased heartbeat for only seconds before continuing on course to his destination.

Spock, despite having little space in which to maneuver, pulled away from Kirk’s lips. “Jim!” he cried out, his head falling back until it thudded softly onto the bed below him and presenting his throat.

Kirk attacked enthusiastically.

He trailed his tongue from the dip in Spock’s clavicle, straight up the straining column of his neck, and sucked at the firmness of Spock’s very Human Adam’s apple. The resultant moan cut off as Kirk immediately planted a row of kisses across Spock’s neck until he found the racing pulse in his lover’s throat. He licked the throbbing vessel then pressed his lips against that same spot and sucked on that point hard. “Oh, Jim!” Spock moaned deeply, his arms finally moving, one of them sliding around his back to hold onto him, while the other grasped Kirk firmly around his bicep.

As Spock continued to quietly moan beneath him, Kirk’s arousal grew until he felt the need to move. He shifted the configuration of their legs from the position in which they’d landed to one that gave them both a bit more contact with one another. Kirk slid his leg between Spock’s until his groin pressed firmly into the Vulcan’s hip. “I love you,” he repeated before he returned his lips’ attention to Spock’s neck.

Spock, unable to look at his captain, could only stare up at the ceiling above him with his neck craned in that position. This also meant that the sensations he felt physically seemed magnified because his vision of events were impeded. He’d been so preoccupied with what Kirk had been doing to his neck that he was completely unprepared when the man on him rocked his hardened arousal against his hip. Spock bucked with a sharp moan, but Kirk only chuckled against his throat, mumbling a low, “Easy, easy,” and then sunk his teeth gently into Spock’s flesh where shoulder met neck. He could not help but vocalize his agreement with his lover’s actions. In turn, that only made Kirk roll his hips into Spock’s harder in his increased excitement.

“I want to touch you,” Kirk declared, his voice rougher. “Have to touch you.”

“Yes,” Spock consented immediately. “Please.”

Even though he had agreed, Spock did not have adequate time in which to prepare himself for the physical sensation of Kirk’s bare touch until the Human had slid his hand from Spock’s heart and took his semi-erect length in his hand. Were Spock not with this man, with this particular Human, he would have been mortified of the strangled sound that escaped him in that instant. But he knew Kirk would not judge him, nor fault him, for his genuine response. In fact, Kirk relished it. In consequence, Spock did not feel ashamed.

Kirk went to work on his lover, intending to prove with his touch alone, if need be, how passionately he felt for the half-Vulcan gasping and moaning beneath him. He began with light touches, giving the organ brushes with his fingertips like the expert strokes of an artist with a brush. He teased with the promise of more, and the prone figure displayed before him vocalized a desire for him to make good on his promise. With each changing sound to escape Spock’s lips, Kirk flicked his gaze quickly to gauge the height of pleasure his partner experienced. He wanted to build Spock’s excitement with each moment between them. But to do that, he would have to alter their positions.

He smiled as he captured Spock’s lips, muffling the soft moan that had only just found his lover’s voice. Spock’s eager hands raced across the expanse of Kirk’s back and shoulders, uncertain where to rest them but wanting to explore what he could reach. One of those long-fingered hands traced his spine, slipped underneath the band of Kirk’s clothing and firmly grasped the mound of flesh hidden there. Spock wasted no time in pulling Kirk against him, bringing the front of their bodies together.

Well, almost, Kirk thought. He lifted up just enough to resituate himself comfortably between Spock’s legs, noting that they parted for him accommodatingly. He abandoned his previous task of stimulation manually, and chose a bit more of a direct approach and apparently the one Spock wanted. He grabbed onto Spock’s hipbone to steady himself as he let Spock set the pace between them, pulling back on his own and giving Spock the control to pull him against them. Both males gasped as their groins met. Kirk looked down between their grinding bodies. Spock, while clearly enjoying the proceedings, did not yet achieve full arousal. That would not do.

Trying not to disrupt the rhythm of their bodies withdrawing and meeting, Kirk slid his hand to the fastenings of his remaining clothing, quickly undid them, and withdrew his own aching length. With his eyes focused on Spock’s restrained yet still blissful expression, he blindly sought both of their organs. “Oh!” Spock groaned from the back of his throat. Kirk smiled into their next kiss, determinedly working to combine the slick that had leaked from his partner’s cock and the pre-come from his own to coat them both, to let him better bring Spock to higher planes of physical pleasure. The Vulcan squirmed beneath him, one hand still holding Kirk tightly against him, while the other continued to dictate the tempo of their lower bodies.

Yet, for Kirk, this wasn’t quite enough. He wanted to do more, to touch more. He released both of their cocks and planted his hand on Spock’s hip, holding him down on the bed. “Jim?” He saw the self-conscious confusion in those dark eyes and immediately sought to reassure that.

“Are you okay to move things further?” The confusion still lingered in Spock’s eyes, but the dawn of understanding began to overcome that confusion. Kirk waited for him to give him at least a small nod before making another advance. “I promise you’ll like this.”

A spark of mischief completely erased all confusion and self-consciousness in Spock’s fiery gaze. “Then, prove it, Captain.”

Kirk’s breath left him at those last two syllables. At one early point in their relationship, Spock had accidentally called him by his rank while they were engaged in light foreplay. It had driven Kirk unexpectedly crazy. Consequently, Spock did not sleep very much that particular night. He’d been too occupied being an obedient first officer and following every command his captain gave him that had nothing to do with the safety of the ship and crew or the parameters of their mission but everything to do with the lives of its commanding officers and the parameters of the relationship between them. The resulting knowledge for Spock had been that Kirk responded quite enthusiastically to being addressed by his rank while they embarked on sexual activities, and he used it to thrill his Human companion. He did it deliberately and with care not to use it too often and thus ruin its effect on Kirk. This instance, used as a challenge, proved that Kirk still found its use irresistible.

“Fuck, Spock,” Kirk growled, lifting away from the male beneath him enough to press his hand firmly on Spock’s sternum. Between his grip there and the one at his hip, Kirk made it clear that he expected Spock to remain in his current position. Seeing Spock’s silent agreement to obey in the shine of his eyes, Kirk knew he had permission to proceed. While he enjoyed taking command of their sexual intimacies, he had never done anything to Spock without the Vulcan’s permission or consent. He wanted Spock to know, more than anything, that Kirk would do nothing to hurt him or cause him discomfort while they made love. Kirk knew how difficult it had been for Spock to allow himself such exposed vulnerability with anyone, and how just entering into a physical and romantic relationship with Kirk indicated how deeply Spock trusted him. Kirk had no intention of abusing or shattering Spock’s trust.

He used his hand on Spock’s chest to give him the leverage to slide himself toward the foot of the bed, out of kissing range, but to a whole different destination. Spock further parted his legs to let Kirk settle comfortably in the cradle he provided. His lover’s cock continued to engorge the closer he got to it. Kirk decided that some teasing might be in order. He brought his hand from Spock’s chest and crept it underneath the flannel shirt to push the material higher, exposing more of the Vulcan’s skin to his gaze. And gaze he did. He noted the flaws and imperfections in his head, took in the smoothness and the beauty of him. Yet, as a tactile Human, Kirk wanted to kiss those perfections and imperfections alike. His position only required minimal strain, but he managed to kiss wherever he could reach of Spock’s torso, trailing down the direct center of his body, then diverting off to the side where he peppered numerous light and quick kisses over Spock’s racing heart. Beneath him, Spock’s entire body began to vibrate in pleasure, his tension a clear indication that he desperately tried to control his reaction but knowing that he was not succeeding.

Kirk peeked a glance at Spock and nearly regretted it for its distraction and captivation. A light green flush began to blossom on his partner’s face, his long-lashed eyes were blissfully closed, and he’d pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked positively sinful to Kirk, and he adored it. He could watch Spock for hours as he unraveled piece by piece. To see each layer of Vulcan repression disappear as Kirk loved him was a priceless gift he never wanted to lose. This was truly Spock, gentle, shy, passionate, yet still remarkably innocent.

With a contented smile, Kirk turned his attention back to his task. He nipped at the skin above Spock’s heart before introducing the next step in his plan. With one long swipe, Kirk licked the same skin he’d been kissing, pulled back, and reversed course to blow a light stream of cool air over the wet skin. “Ah,” Spock sobbed, unable to prevent his hips from bucking into Kirk, nor his hands from reaching down to contact his companion.

Kirk easily caught his wrists and firmly pressed them down to the mattress. “Questioning my actions, Commander?”

Spock lifted his head to stare breathlessly at Kirk. “Never, Captain.”

Kirk smiled wickedly. “You liar,” he countered. “You question me all the time.”

Spock let his head fall back to the bed. “Only when your actions jeopardize your safety or that of the crew.”

Kirk gave Spock’s right side a quick swipe of his tongue again. “Stop,” he said. “You give me sass every chance you get.”

Spock sighed. “Not every chance,” he argued. “Am I not currently quite receptive to your actions without question?”

Kirk nestled himself between Spock’s thighs a little more comfortably. “How would I know if you were about to neck pinch me into sleep before I could finish what we started?”

A harsh huff was the given reply. “Jim, I have no desire, in any circumstances, to cease our current interaction, until either or both of us have achieved physical release.”

He’d reached his goal and licked his lips in anticipation. “I don’t know about you,” Kirk said, knowing Spock would be able to hear the smile in his voice, “but I don’t plan to be the only one who comes tonight.” With that, and in one continuous movement, he calmly ran his tongue from the base and to the weeping tip of Spock’s length. He swirled the fluid at the tip with his tongue teasingly before he confidently took Spock into his mouth, sucking him in slowly, torturously. Spock’s arms strained in Kirk’s hold and he cried out as his lover’s lips encased his penis.

“Jim!” he shouted, uncaring about his Vulcan restraint.

Kirk hummed around the cock in his mouth, feeling it throb with Spock’s racing pulse. He withdrew enough to get a full breath and then descended again, exploring the texture with his tongue, coating Spock with the mixture of his saliva and his lover’s leaking fluids. He continued this pleasant torture until Spock’s hips began to move with Kirk’s mouth, meeting him as he took him in deeper and deeper. Kirk rode the motions with practiced ease. Spock’s hands still strained against Kirk’s grip, though. He didn’t mind it, but he wanted Spock not to cheat with his telepathy. He wanted Spock to fall into bliss that night with physical touch alone. The next time Kirk pulled back, he commanded, “Keep your hands there, Commander.”

Gasping, Spock nodded. Kirk would typically want him to reply verbally, but he decided to let it go that time. Kirk let go of Spock’s wrists, and the Vulcan immediately fisted the bedding beneath him to prevent himself from disobeying his Captain’s order. Kirk, without verbal direction, raised his hand towards Spock’s face, knowing the other male would conclude what he wanted. He knew the instant Spock figured it out when the slightly swollen green lips curved upward at one corner. A moment later, Spock opened his lips and waited. Kirk traced Spock’s jawline from ear to chin before he slid his index and middle fingers between Spock’s waiting lips. “Get them wet for yourself, Sweetheart.”

As Spock worked on Kirk’s fingers, Kirk worked Spock’s length into full arousal with his hand. Neither of them took long, as both were anticipating their joining with growing intensity and excitement. When Spock parted his lips again, Kirk knew he was ready. He withdrew his fingers and quickly brought them to their intended target. Kirk slid his free hand beneath Spock’s posterior and hoisted him up for a better approach angle. Spock, eager for him, shifted his legs so that one knee comfortably draped over Kirk’s shoulder and the other spread wide.

Kirk took his time in working the wet fingers into his lover’s body. Spock always accepted him into his body. As Kirk eased in his middle finger to join the first, he noticed that Spock, despite always welcoming him, stretched unusually easily for the little focus he’d given this particular place that evening. He looked to Spock and the answer came to him as soon as he saw the mischief and satisfied expression. “You planned this!”

Spock, looking unbelievably composed for a male with two fingers inside his body, raised one eyebrow. “I am a Vulcan,” he stated, obviously. “I am always prepared.”

Kirk laughed. “In more ways than one it seems,” he said through his amusement.

“Indeed.”

The response only made his mirth increase. Kirk believed Spock that he was ready, and knew the Vulcan knew his own body better than anyone else, yet he wanted to be certain. He pumped his fingers into his lover, spreading them and opening Spock for him. He stretched easily, but Kirk knew both of them took pleasure in the eroticism of Kirk giving Spock’s most intimate area Vulcan kisses. “You ready?”

Spock nodded. “Affirmative.”

Kirk smiled warmly at the flushed Vulcan lying before him as he resettled the long legs so he could get into a better position himself, not neglecting to nip and kiss certain areas of Spock’s inner thigh as he did so. Spock serenely placed his legs on either side of the Human, and being commanded not to use his hands, locked his ankles together at the small of Kirk’s back and pulled his captive captain closer to him that way. Kirk situated himself comfortably on his knees, cupping the firm mounds of Spock’s rear in both palms in order to lift him higher. The change in Spock’s position dragged him down the bed, ruffling his pristine hair and eliciting a sharp gasp from him. That gasp became a moan as his Human, his lover, his t’hy’la sank steadily and deeply into his body with one smooth thrust. 

He held Spock as he pulled almost entirely out of his shaking body, only to thrust hard, roughly pulling Spock onto his cock, their bodies pounding together. Spock threw his head back and moaned unrestrainedly with each thrust. “Jim!” he cried. “Jim! Please!” Kirk moaned at the incredible pleasure of his lover’s heat encasing him, the sounds Spock could not hold back with him, and the trembling in the Vulcan’s legs around his waist.

“Oh, you feel so good, Sweetheart,” Kirk managed to growl between each plunge into Spock’s body. “So very good.”

Spock’s lips were perpetually parted in his struggle to breathe between his appreciative moans and Kirk’s commanding thrusts. Each push sent him closer to the head of the bed, but a second later Spock was helplessly pulled back onto Kirk’s cock as his lover claimed him again. He let go of the bedding and moved his hands to brace against the shelf that served as the headboard to the bed, giving Kirk some resistance against his thrusts. Kirk’s excitement grew as he realized why Spock had braced his hands. “Yes, Spock,” he moaned his approval, before sliding his hands from his first officer’s ass to take Spock’s hipbones firmly in his grip. “You want more?” he asked, not once breaking his established rhythm.

Spock struggled to lift his head so he could make eye contact. He only barely succeeded. “H-harder,” he demanded. Kirk smiled down at him and slammed his cock into his lover as requested. “Ah!” Spock cried out sharply. After an immeasurable amount of time to Spock, Kirk changed their position again, hooking Spock’s knees over his own elbows and pushing the Vulcan’s legs up towards his chest, opening him wide.

Kirk sought Spock’s mouth feverishly. “Spock,” he said through his physical exertion, just out of contact with the lips he wanted to taste. Spock rocked and moaned and squirmed beneath him and Kirk loved every second of it. “Spock,” he repeated. He slid his arms free of Spock’s legs. While steadying himself with one hand, he reached up and brushed Spock’s bangs away from his forehead, making some of them stick up chaotically and some of them simply fall right back to their place. Kirk cupped the back of Spock’s head, willing him with his touch to open his eyes and look at him. “You with me?”

Spock tried to form words, tried to get his voice to cooperate, but nothing he thought or said came out as anything more substantial than either a whimper or a long keening moan. Spock looked at his lover, whose skin had begun to glisten in the candlelight around them from the sweat of his amorous efforts, trying to ask for what he wanted without the words that failed him. Leaving one hand braced at the shelf, Spock reached for Kirk, but not touching him just in case Kirk had been sincere in Spock not using his hands this time. “Yes,” Kirk encouraged him. “Yes.”  Spock needed no further authorization. He ran his fingers through the Human’s tawny hair, which gloriously reflected the fire around the sleeping alcove, and grabbed the flames before him to pull Kirk to meet him. Kirk followed him with a low growl and they moaned as one when their lips crashed together.

It had been that moment of joining that Kirk’s relentless rhythm faltered.

And it was that moment in which Spock relieved him of command.

With them free of Kirk’s arms, Spock embraced his lover tightly with his long legs in preparation. He kept his grip on Kirk’s hair as he used his free arm to give himself enough of traction to push himself up from the bed. In one complete motion, Spock managed to flip their positions, bringing Kirk down hard on his back and himself straddling his captain. He had expected the move to pull Kirk from his body, but miraculously, Kirk remained deeply buried inside Spock. Kirk stared up at him breathlessly, shocked at Spock’s initiative with their lovemaking. “Why, Commander, I think this constitutes mutiny, mister.”

Spock did not dignify the comment with a verbal response. Instead, he raised his body off of Kirk’s arousal and held himself poised there. He stared challengingly into Kirk’s excited and wide-blown eyes. “Ask,” he demanded.

Kirk’s breath left him at the one word. “Spock,” he warned. This was cruel of Spock. “Don’t tease.”

“You constantly tease me during coitus. I believe this is what you would call payback.”

Kirk had no idea how Spock kept himself in that position as long as he did. Then again, Spock had excellent muscle control, so he didn’t know why this surprised him that he could maintain a position in which Kirk’s straining organ only just barely penetrated Spock. How long could Spock stay like that? As his cock twitched, Kirk decided he really didn’t need to know the answer to that. What he needed was to bury himself in his lover again, to claim the Vulcan above him, to take his first officer to the very brink of pleasure before they collapsed into exhaustion together. He had no choice but to surrender this time. “Please, Spock.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in feigned innocence. “Please what, Captain?”

Kirk chuckled darkly. “Move.”

“In what direction, Sir? Continue present course?” Spock’s lips playfully curved up and he impaled himself on Kirk’s cock with exquisite and deliberate slowness. Kirk could not hold back a deep groan. “Or shall I reverse?”

It took Kirk a second or two to realize what that meant. When he felt Spock lifting away from him, he grabbed his lover’s hips and held him steady. “No!” he said, urging Spock to sink back onto his hard member until Kirk knew himself to be as fully inside him as he physically could be. Spock shifted so that he rested on his knees rather than balanced on his feet, and the movement only nestled Kirk’s testicles into the crease of his lover’s ass as a result. “Oh God,” he sighed, his head dropping to the pillow.

“I am not a deity, Captain, I am—”

“Spock,” he interrupted. Lazily, Kirk began to shallowly thrust up into Spock. “You may not be a deity, but I intend to worship you like one.” His hands had initially landed not on Spock’s skin, but the material of the plaid shirt the Vulcan still wore. As he continued to gently thrust, he slipped his hands beneath the shirt and resumed his hold on Spock, this time skin to skin.

In a sensual move that surprised Kirk, Spock slid both of his hands up Kirk’s chest until they curled around the broad shoulders, the Vulcan’s upper body following his palms and folding forward to allow him to press his lips to Kirk’s tenderly. Kirk stopped thrusting then, but explored Spock’s solid yet narrow back beneath the shirt until he could wrap his arms around his Vulcan. Neither of them moved for a long time, content to hold and be held. The gentle and deep kisses they exchanged spoke the language of their affection that Standard could not quite properly articulate. They breathed for one another, sharing each other’s air, and relishing in the peace they found with their partner in this calm moment of their intimacy.

Spock leaned further forward to kiss each individual psi-point on Kirk’s face, silently asking for a meld, but not pressuring him to accept the request. Melding could be overwhelming and taxing on a non-Vulcan, so they did not engage often in the activity. It often left Kirk drained and incredibly exhausted. As captain, Kirk needed to be able to leap to full awareness in the event of an emergency. Spock had no intention of impairing Kirk’s command ability or judgment, and thus they usually reserved time to mind meld on shore leaves or on missions in which the possibility of anything dire occurring was so unlikely that enjoying the mental and telepathic intimacy that Spock craved would not be a danger or a risk to either of them.

As Spock craned to kiss the last point at Kirk’s temple, he pulled away from his lover’s cock buried inside of him. Kirk sighed and tightened his arms around Spock. The thick organ pulsed in time with Kirk’s heart and the sensation stimulated Spock’s body yet soothed his mind. With a soft, quiet moan, Spock rocked back onto Kirk’s arousal slowly. Kirk found Spock’s lips and moaned into their kiss. With gentle pressure, Kirk pulled Spock closer to him still, refusing to give up his embrace of the Vulcan. Spock allowed Kirk to dictate their pace for a time, letting his captain use his arms to pull him away from the man’s cock as he tightened his embrace and intensified their kiss. But due to the way in which Spock positioned himself, Kirk could not have both simultaneously. Kirk could either have his kiss or his body. Spock retreated from Kirk’s lips and rocked back onto the rod inside him, impaling himself slowly yet deeply. With each of Spock’s retreats, Kirk would voice his approval deep in his throat. At the sound of Kirk’s pleasure, Spock undulated forward to steal his lover’s passion to fuel his own, but lifting himself away from Kirk’s cock, earning Spock a desperate whimper from his lover.

“Spock,” Kirk said the instant his lover’s movement forced the separation of their lips. “Please.”

He allowed himself to smirk at the Human beneath him, flushed in the heat of his passion and breathless from the sensations Spock both permitted and denied him. “Is this not pleasing, Jim?”

Disbelief overpowered every other emotion in Kirk’s expression. “You know the answer to that.” He loosened his tight embrace of the Vulcan to slide along Spock’s ribcage and down until they settled in a gentle grip on the slender hips that rolled sensuously into his own. “Sit up,” he urged quietly. Ever obedient, Spock planted his palms on Kirk’s chest and pushed himself up, shifting his weight to rest precisely at the place of their joining. Kirk groaned and tightened his hold on his lover’s hips as this drew him impossibly deeper into Spock’s body. Experimentally, he tested the stability of their new position and thrust, feeling the heat of his own arousal increase as his action lifted Spock and caused the Vulcan’s dark eyes to flutter.

“Oh, Jim,” Spock whispered so quietly Kirk almost missed it.

“Look at me,” he said, equally quiet. Spock’s dilated eyes focused on his intently. Kirk used the hold he had on Spock’s hips to help him stay balanced while he continued to gently thrust up into him. “You feel so good, Sweetheart.” Spock moaned. Kirk knew he secretly liked the endearment, even if he never explicitly stated so.

“Jim, I—” His words cut off as Kirk shifted again, raising his knees to brace his feet against the bed to give himself more leverage. “I need—ah!” Kirk grinned, satisfied he could bring Spock to this inarticulate level. Bracing his weight on his feet, Kirk’s thrusts grew in strength and depth until the sounds that filled his cabin were that of his exertion, his lover’s appreciation, and the wet impact of their bodies.

Spock whimpered as Kirk’s grip on his hips bounced him in perfect counterpoint to the man’s thrusts. He curled his long fingers around Kirk’s shoulders, pushing the Human into the bed and giving himself a measure of resistance to the intensity of his captain’s lovemaking. He closed his eyes and leaned forward until his perfectly trimmed bangs tangled with Kirk’s sweat-dampened locks as he pressed their foreheads together. Kirk felt Spock’s eyebrows come together against his skin as his lover gasped and moaned in response to his thrusting. “Ji—im—” Spock’s voice cut off as physical sensation and stimuli overwhelmed all other senses.

“Spock,” he grunted. Kirk relaxed his hold on Spock’s hip with one hand so he could sneak between their bodies to cup the Vulcan’s jaw gently. This simple touch gave Spock one specific thing on which to focus. He nearly lost his balance, but quickly recovered it, as he covered Kirk’s hand with his own and sighed blissfully. “Spock,” Kirk repeated, then tried to lift his shoulders to meet him, which proved impossible with Spock pushing his weight into Kirk’s shoulder. “Come here,” he commanded. Spock came willingly and their lips joined with bruising force. Kirk eagerly took in the sounds Spock sent into their kiss.

“This,” Spock gasped the instant their kiss ended.

“What?”

Spock leaned into Kirk’s hand cradling his jaw, purposefully sliding the pad of his thumb over Kirk’s knuckles to say what he could not clearly articulate in his overcome state. “I need—this!”

All at once, Kirk understood. He turned his hand in Spock’s until they were pressed palm to palm and then interlaced their fingers, holding the Vulcan’s sensitive digits tightly. Spock sobbed at the overwhelming contact. “Here,” Kirk said as he brought his other hand up and pried Spock’s fingers from their place clutching at his shoulder. “I’ve got you.” He planted his elbows into the mattress and comfortably reclined, taking all of Spock’s weight onto his hands and pelvis, and letting his lover recover from his breathlessness.

In less time than Kirk expected, Spock leaned forward onto Kirk’s hands and quickly reversed, slamming his hips down onto Kirk’s cock and taking command of the tempo of their lovemaking once more. “Oh, Spock,” Kirk moaned. “Oh!” Spock’s respiration quickened as his pace in which he rode his captain increased. Kirk could do nothing but enjoy it with his hands bracing the Vulcan to help him keep balanced and their rhythm completely out of his control. Kirk’s excitement only climbed when Spock couldn’t hold back his grunts during his efforts. Spock’s composure and control gradually disappeared before Kirk’s eyes and he loved every moment of it. “Harder,” he demanded.

“I—Captain, I—” A groan from deep in Spock’s chest cut off his words. “I cannot.”

Kirk thrust and met Spock hard. Having been relaxed and allowing Spock to dictate the pace and depth of their joining, he knew that his sudden movement disrupted his lover’s rhythm. Spock stopped moving but bore his entire weight down onto Kirk’s length, keeping the Human buried inside of him as deeply as he could be physically. He looked down at Kirk with pupils blown so wide they were nearly completely black. His lips were parted as he breathed heavily and irregularly, and a mesmerizing green blush colored his fair cheeks. Kirk knew that Spock was so close, so close to falling apart. Only a few more pushes and Spock would be quaking in his arms as his orgasm overrode everything else. Kirk sharply drove up into his lover, eliciting a breathless moan from Spock. “Then let me do this. Let me bring you—”

“No!” Spock whimpered.

Kirk froze immediately. “No what, Spock?” He needed to know precisely what Spock meant. “Do you want me to stop?” He knew Spock well enough by this point to know that Spock, were he no longer interested in physical intimacy between them, only had to say so and it would be over for the time being. Spock never feared asking Kirk to stop, nor did he feel guilty for withdrawing his consent at any point during their joining. It rarely occurred, but when it did, Kirk did not hesitate to disconnect their bodies, and he especially did not try to make Spock feel self-conscious for refusing to continue. He had every right to refuse Kirk for any reason, even if Kirk didn’t understand the reason for Spock’s refusal. Besides, he wanted Spock to be willing and eager for him, not feel obligated or pressured, or even worse completely unwilling. He would never do that to Spock.

“Jim,” Spock sighed as he tightened his fingers in their embrace.

“Spock,” Kirk answered just as softly. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked again.

Spock closed his eyes and visibly struggled to steady his breathing. Kirk felt Spock’s channel tighten and loosen in long, deliberate clenches. He could not help it as his cock twitched inside his lover’s body. Spock moaned through his nose at the sensation combined with the throbbing of Kirk’s pulse inside him. Slowly, like the wax of a candle softening at the flame’s warm prodding, Spock melted into Kirk with a contented sigh, folding at the waist and nuzzling the Human where his neck met shoulder. Kirk let his arms relax onto the bed until the backs of his hands touched the fabric comfortably. Spock’s fingers alternately relaxed and squeezed his own like he was kneading a stress-relieving tool. “Do not stop, Jim,” he mumbled into Kirk’s skin.

He tried to disengage the intimate connection of their palms, but Spock resisted that by tightening his grip. “Spock,” Kirk began, twisting his neck enough to reach any part of the Vulcan’s face he could with his lips. “I need my hands.”

Spock kissed him in the spot he’d been nuzzling receiving a throaty groan from Kirk. “You do not.”

Kirk uselessly tried wiggling his fingers free of Spock’s grip. “I want to use my hands,” he amended.

Spock continued teasing Kirk’s neck slowly, torturously. “They are quite stimulating in their current position,” he decided aloud. Gently, and with light, teasing pressure, Spock pulled back his lips and dragged his teeth against the damp skin of Kirk’s neck. He heard and felt Kirk moan at the action, his semi-frustrated lover’s hands clutching Spock’s tightly. Spock repeated the gesture, sinking his teeth a little harder into Kirk’s skin until he rested them there in a gentle bite. He flicked his tongue on the trapped flesh, once, twice, and then soothed the bitten skin with a tender kiss of apology for his unexpected enthusiasm.

Kirk’s lips had parted as Spock had begun teasing him as he tried to breathe enough to stay conscious. “Spock,” he sighed blissfully. “Please. Let me.”

Spock kissed the same place on Kirk’s neck before uttering a single word. “No.”

Kirk’s head thudded back into the pillow in surrender, resigning himself to lying back and enjoying whatever else Spock had planned for them. He allowed his eyes to drift shut and give himself over to the physical sensations his lover gave him.

Unexpectedly, Spock rolled his hips and gradually resumed a sedate but intense pace in their lovemaking. Kirk’s eyes sprang open as Spock worked to reestablish a consistent rhythm astride him. Spock pushed himself up just enough to bring them face to face. He did not sit straight up as he had before. The Vulcans eyes were closed in focused concentration on his self-appointed task. A soft green flush colored his skin, and his breaths quietly passed through his just barely parted lips. To Kirk, Spock had never been more beautiful.

He wanted to touch every part of his lover, but Spock still held him down by planting a majority of his weight on their joined hands. He may not be able to touch him freely, but Kirk would make due with where he could touch him. He held onto Spock’s hands tightly, supportively, steadying Spock as he picked up speed riding him. Kirk could no longer hold back his own appreciative sounds. “Spock, keep going,” he encouraged him.

“I had—” Spock broke off as he slammed down hard. “—no intention—” And again. “—of stopping.”

Spock’s typically perfect bangs fluttered on his forehead with every eager bounce the Vulcan completed on Kirk’s cock. “You feel so good, Spock,” he praised, as he finally caught on to Spock’s established rhythm and became an active participant. Spock moaned breathlessly. Impossibly, Kirk held Spock’s hands tighter. Spock, never once faltering as he rode his captain, began to tremble in overwhelming physical excitement. Kirk recognized the silent language of Spock’s body. “Yes, Spock, yes. Let go, Sweetheart. I have you.”

“Jim,” Spock sobbed, crashing their bodies together. “Please.”

“Anything,” Kirk promised. “Anything, Spock.”

Spock’s right hand twitched in Kirk’s and he immediately understood. He pushed against Spock’s weight enough to lift their hands from the bed. “Yes, this. Take what you need,” Kirk said reassuringly. “Yours. You want it?” Spock nodded frantically. “I want it, too.” He groaned with the effort of keeping up with Spock’s pace while speaking. “Don’t deny us what we both want, Spock.” Spock’s eyes finally opened and fixed on Kirk’s, seemingly in disbelief at what his lover said. Kirk smiled as much as he could and brought their hands to the left side of his face. “Meld with me, love.”

Spock tore his hand free of Kirk’s and, with a long, deep moan, shakily touched his lover’s psi-points. He barely could speak the ritual words, and Kirk barely heard them, before their minds became as one as their bodies. As they raced toward the precipice of their union, and Kirk let himself be as vulnerable with Spock as Spock permitted himself to be with Kirk. Mind melding, especially during intimacy, both humbled and overwhelmed Kirk. His physical senses were already consumed by their amorous activity, but once Spock joined their minds and he could hear and feel everything Spock experienced on such a profoundly intimate level, Kirk had difficulty sometimes grasping it and staying conscious. Spock loved him with everything that made him Spock. This became undeniably clear in a meld.

Kirk just hoped that he gave as much of himself to Spock as the Vulcan gave to him. Spock deserved nothing less from Kirk. Kirk loved him desperately. He hoped Spock knew.

I do.

Kirk gasped within the meld at the sound of Spock’s calm voice in his head.

Do not believe you are inadequate. Kirk could almost hear the smile in the Vulcan’s tone as he continued, saying, If I did not find that you completed me, that you did not fill the empty places of my existence with your presence, or that you did not accept me as you certainly do, then I would not have craved to make you mine and to become yours in turn. I would not have desired to touch your mind in this way on occasion as we touch now. I would not have desired to join our bodies as we have joined them now.

What about joining our minds permanently? Kirk blurted before he could think of the ramifications. As soon as the thought came, Kirk regretted it. Of course he wouldn’t want that.

Jim! Spock cried out sharply. Jim! I—

Kirk came back to the physical world in his quarters abruptly. Spock must have ended their meld unexpectedly. For an instant, he wondered if the reason was due to his unthinking question. That thought left him as soon as he looked at his lover, whose eyes were clenched and his lips parted as his voice completely failed him. Spock pulled his hands free of Kirk’s and planted them hard over the Human’s lower ribcage. Speech escaped the Vulcan and left him capable of only producing helpless, overwhelmed moaning sobs of ecstasy.

Kirk did not waste the opportunity.

With his hands finally freed, he grabbed Spock’s pelvis firmly and tossed his weight to the side, tumbling his lover from astride Kirk and onto the bed on his back. The move caused Kirk to slide from Spock’s body, but he followed him quickly. “Look at you,” he cooed in delight, as he took himself in hand and scooted into a comfortable position between his first officer’s spread legs. He ran the palm of one hand along Spock’s skin from knee to torso, sliding the fabric of his own plaid shirt higher so he could rest his hand over the Vulcan’s racing heart. “You’re shaking, Mister Spock.”

Spock did not – could not – open his eyes. “Captain,” he begged. “Please.”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered comfortingly with a wicked smile. Spock began to reach for him, but Kirk swatted his hands away lightly. “It’s your turn not to touch, though, mister.”

With a frustrated huff, Spock’s arms bonelessly flopped to the bed. “Captain, plea—” He choked on the word as Kirk plunged into him with a single, smooth, powerful thrust.

And another.

And another until Spock, with his legs wrapped around his lover, tightened and held Kirk practically immobile inside him while his back arched, his hands clutched the bedding desperately, and he released between their bodies with quaking breathless sobs. Hypnotized, Kirk watched Spock fall apart beneath him, buried to the hilt in his Vulcan lover. Words were not needed, and would disrupt the beautiful sight before him, so he chose to speak with his body and hands. He moved his thumb in tiny circles over Spock’s heart soothingly, each repetition earning him a quiet sigh. He slipped his free hand under Spock’s leg and pushed the limb up towards the Vulcan’s chest so that he could capture his lover’s wrist while effectively pinning Spock where he lay. He waited patiently until Spock’s eyes finally fluttered open and found Kirk. He grinned and pushed impossibly further into the Vulcan. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered.

Spock opened his mouth to reply but Kirk swallowed the words with a commanding kiss. He pulled his hips back and then slammed back into his lover, the force of his thrusts pushing the Vulcan further and further up the bed. Spock tightened his grip on the bedding, but it did nothing helpful. “Not going to last long, Spock,” he groaned.

“Captain,” Spock whimpered, his arms coming up around Kirk to hold onto him as he pounded deeply inside him. “Capt—ain!”

Kirk understood what Spock was trying to tell him he wanted. Feeling himself nearing his own peak, he increased the tempo but shortened the depth of his thrusts to allow himself to bring his mouth close to the shell of the delicately-shaped Vulcan ear. “Commander,” he purred into it before gently taking the tapered point between his teeth.

The sound that came from Spock’s mouth was unlike any he had ever heard and, before he fully realized that he stood upon the edge of his arousal, Kirk fell. He thrust hard and remained there, held by the embrace of Spock’s quivering body, as he poured all of the passion and love he felt deeply into his Vulcan lover.

Spock’s fingers carded through his damp hair as he pulled Kirk closer against him, cradling him in their mutual exhaustion, encouraging as little movement as possible until they could come down from the excitement that had finally crested between them. The only sounds in the warm, candlelit sleeping alcove were that of their labored breathing. Tiredly, Kirk pressed a soft but lazy kiss to the side of Spock’s throat. “Spock,” he mumbled against his skin. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hush, Jim,” Spock interrupted, continuing to slowly run his fingers through his captain’s hair. “It can wait.”

Kirk found himself being lulled to sleep by Spock’s soothing gestures. He shifted a little to get even more comfortable, a soft smile on his lips. His contentment was so complete that while he could think words he wanted to say, they could not reach his voice. Instead he could only sigh softly and incoherently while Spock coaxed him to rest. Just before he lost consciousness, Kirk could have sworn he heard three words he’d never heard Spock say to him before.

“I love you.”

When he next opened his eyes, his first action was to glance at the chronometer. “Shit,” he muttered at it as he stiffly got out of his bed, tiredly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Still chasing the sleep from his body, Kirk slowly made his way to his wardrobe and blindly got out a new uniform for the shift that had already started. He could claim that his own tardiness was his prerogative as captain. Immediately, he dismissed the idea. He had to come up with something, though. Or he could simply say nothing.

He turned around and noticed what had seemed different in his quarters. They were exactly as he’d left them yesterday. The candles that Spock had set out and lit last night were gone, and there were no articles of clothing strewn anywhere they shouldn’t be. His quarters were just as they’d always been, just as he’d always kept them. He couldn’t find any evidence of anything that had happened between him and Spock as he remembered it, which brought about a disturbing thought.

Had any of it truly happened or was it some kind of fantasy his mind created for him from his subconscious desires while he’d been asleep? He sighed. If it was all just a fantasy, a dream that had felt so unbearably real, then it may just rank as the best sex he and Spock had never had.

Kirk dressed quickly, mentally ordering his dissatisfying thoughts from his mind, and walked to his desk console to check for any new notices that may need his authorization before he went to the bridge. One of them caught his attention enough that he’d hit the comm button before even knowing he’d done it. “Kirk to McCoy.”

“McCoy here,” the unusually cheerful voice of his Chief Medical Officer answered. “What is it?”

Kirk licked his lips in an attempt to smother his confusion and irritation. “Why have you designated me as being on medical leave until alpha shift tomorrow? I not sick, and you certainly didn’t examine me for anything recently.”

He could practically hear McCoy’s somewhat guilty shuffling over the comm unit. That made Kirk pause. “Jim,” the doctor began, dropping all rank formality and addressing him as a friend and not a colleague. “According to my medical log, you and your first officer are unable to report to the bridge for duty until tomorrow morning, ship’s time, pending a follow-up approval by the Chief Medical Officer.”

Kirk sputtered, unable to understand why McCoy would falsify his logs. Then, he latched on to one particular detail. “You said that neither I nor my first officer could report. Explain.”

McCoy sighed. “Well, a non-serious but could-be highly contagious minor illness was the only thing that made sense for me to list. It allowed you total privacy.”

Kirk rubbed the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. “I don’t—Privacy for what, Bones?”

“You mean that pointy-earred—” McCoy cut himself off with a harsh humph. “He didn’t mention anything?”

The door to Kirk’s fresher unit hissed open and the figure silhouetted by the cramped room’s light caught his gaze. Spock. Kirk’s lips spread in a gentle, affectionate smile as he took him in with his eyes. Spock kept his gaze shyly to the floor, his usually immaculate hair untamed from the sonic shower he must have just taken. His skin, however, periodically blossomed in faint green markings. Markings that he had placed there during their lovemaking that Kirk then fully realized has not been a fantasy he’d lived in his sleep. As Kirk watched Spock go back to the bed, draw back the covers, and gracefully slide beneath them, McCoy continued to speak through the comm. “Spock wanted to do something to—um—commemorate your birthday.” Kirk’s grin turned into a smile as Spock shyly looked up and met his eyes through the mesh room divider. “I don’t want to know, Jim, but I’m sure you’ll end up telling me anyways during the follow up exam I had to schedule for both of you for tomorrow morning, at which point I will declare you two fit for duty again and recovered from your mysterious illness.”

Kirk maintained eye contact with Spock, whose dark yet innocent eyes called him back to bed like a Siren. He needed to get McCoy to stop talking as soon as possible. “When are you expecting us, Doctor?”

“Oh no, Captain-Sir,” McCoy barked. “I’ll come to you.”

That was all he needed to know. “Kirk out.” He didn’t much care that the end of the conversation may have been abrupt. He was needed elsewhere, and for once that didn’t mean the bridge. As he leisurely made his way to where his lover patiently waited, Kirk stripped his command gold tunic from his body and tossed it carelessly aside. Spock moved to get up but Kirk’s raised palm in a silent command to stop kept the Vulcan still. “I’m not needed on the bridge anyway, so what do a few wrinkles matter?”

“It does leave you with one less to wear for duty.”

Kirk laughed. “Have you seen how many times I destroy my shirts, Spock?”

Spock sighed. “All too often, Captain.”

He peeled the black undershirt from his body just as he reached the bed. “Scoot over.” Spock did no such thing. He did, however, lift the covers up from the bed in a wordless invitation to which Kirk happily replied. He slid easily into the embrace of his waiting first officer and lover, shifting only enough to get into a comfortable position. Spock waited for him to settle before he curled himself around Kirk’s body, cuddling his face into the Human’s shoulder, sliding an arm around his torso, and tangling their legs to effectively press himself to Kirk’s side where he most belonged.

Kirk traced random designs on the back of Spock’s hand and fingers as he mused aloud. “How did you get me back here from the gymnasium?”

Spock paused before speaking. “During our sparring, I rendered you unconscious with a—”

“You neck-pinched me?”

Spock tensed. “I did.”

“Why?”

Kirk felt the movement of Spock swallowing the nervousness he would never admit to feeling. “I…It was the date of your birth. I understand that Humans place a great deal of importance on such a date.”

Kirk’s brows furrowed. “I don’t expect you to—”

“I wanted to,” Spock interrupted vehemently. “I wished to convey your importance to me and in my life. I…felt that doing so on the date on which you first drew breath would be the most appropriate occasion to demonstrate this. Therefore, I—”

“Spock,” Kirk said. He stopped running his fingertips over the digits of Spock’s hand and pointedly rested his on top of the Vulcan’s comfortingly. They were silent for less time than it seemed to both of them. Then, softly, Kirk whispered sweetly, “Thank you.” He meant the words for much more than what Spock had described, for more than his discretion, for more than covering their absence in a ploy with the good doctor. He meant it for everything. He closed his eyes intending to sleep.

“I did not answer you earlier, Jim.”

Apparently, Spock did not want him to sleep just yet. That didn’t mean he had to open his eyes. “About what?”

“When you wondered whether or not I would be amenable to joining our lives in a more permanent manner.”

That definitely chased all thoughts of sleep away. “It was an impulsive thing to say and—” Then, he realized it. “Did you read my thoughts? I didn’t actually say that while we melded.”

Spock nodded once against Kirk’s skin. “You thought it quite loudly.”

Spock tensed again as Kirk laughed deep in his chest. “Are all Vulcans as devious as you?”

“I would not know, as I am not acquainted with all Vulcans.”

Kirk smiled and resumed tracing aimless patterns on Spock’s hand and fingers. “And there’s the familiar sass again.”

“Jim—”

“I don’t mind,” he assured him. “In fact, I…I’ve grown kind of fond of it.” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth nervously. In the brief silence between them, he felt the mood shift. “So, what do you think?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Kirk inhaled through his nose. “About my question.”

For once, Spock did not tease him for specifics in his speech. He was perfectly aware of the topic they were both on the very edge of discussing. “I would not object. We are well-matched. Our minds are compatible.”

“Our bodies are compatible, too,” Kirk cheekily added.  

Spock did not acknowledge the comment. “We share the same lifestyles and career paths.” Spock snuggled closer to Kirk but grew suddenly silent.

“What are you saying, Spock?”

In answer, Spock rearranged the positioning of his fingers beneath Kirk’s until only his index and middle fingers were extended, curling the others into his palm. He sought Kirk’s corresponding digits to curl around them gently. Kirk knew what Spock meant even before he spoke. “I accept your proposal, Jim.”

Kirk stared at their entwined fingers, smiling contentedly. “If I knew I was proposing, I would have done a better job of it.” He didn’t think any further on it the instant Spock pressed a light kiss to his shoulder without moving his head too much. “We’re engaged, Mister Spock,” he marveled.

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock mumbled, sleepily.

Just before Kirk drifted off to sleep, he had a thought that made him laugh. “What’ll Bones say?”

Predictably, when Kirk and Spock told McCoy of their newly amended relationship status, the Southern doctor exploded with a deafening, “Damnit, Jim!”