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Didn't We Almost Have it All?

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His lips tasted like honey and an old song drifted through his brain, a memory of a song his mother used to play, tasting much sweeter than wine.

Or perhaps it was sunshine he tasted of, Spock thought most illogically and far too emotionally, but Jim brought it out in him in ways no other simply could.

The honey sunshine mingled with the rain that now poured upon them definitely enough to soak them as Jim had predicted. But all Spock could think about in that moment is stripping Jim of every stitch of clothing and spending all day immersed in him.

Jim’s wet blunt fingertips grazed over Spock’s jaw and he shivered. Spock had known passion before, he could not say otherwise. He had enjoyed his intimate times with Nyota and, others after them, and before Jim, but nothing and no one had ever prepared him for this all-consuming onslaught of a passion so deep he literally felt weak in the knees.

“Back home,” Jim said, raw and split open it seemed, the same way Spock felt.

For a split second, Spock’s mind was too in the moment to process the meaning of Jim’s words, the seemingly dangling sentence, but then a surprisingly strong grip seized his arm and began to pull him toward the farmhouse they had left behind during their walk.

Out in the rain, in the walkway, would not be conducive to satisfactory sexual congress, and yet, Spock found that he resented the intrusion of having to make their way back.

Fortunately, Jim with a purpose was quick and efficient, a beauty to behold, and it was hardly any time before Jim was yanking open the door to the farmhouse and shoving Spock inside.

Unable to bear the fact he had to stop kissing Jim long enough to get inside the dwelling, Spock pounced on the human the moment the door was closed. Their faces were streaked with rain as Spock crushed Jim’s mouth under his, pushing him against the nearest wall, overcome with desperation.

Jim shoved aside Spock’s coat, pulling off the scarf that now seemed to offend them both. It and the wet coat were discarded in a heap on the hallway floor.

Next Spock peeled Jim’s jacket and shirt off all at once, pleased with the speediness of the act. More pleased by the stunning sight of the naked chiseled pecs of Jim’s chest.

Their teeth clacked together briefly as they continued kissing while trying to remove boots and pants and everything else that kept them apart. When at last every article of wet encumbering clothing was finally away, Spock pressed his nude body into Jim’s, raising Jim up—hands curled under Jim’s thighs—against the wall, Spock fitting himself to Jim’s body, to his entrance, and pushing in.

Those hands, those wonderful strong gripped, callused hands, looped around Spock’s neck, holding on, as Spock moved into Jim’s body, hard and deep. One of his own hands slipped from Jim’s thigh up toward his face and for the barest moment, Spock desperately wanted to join their minds, meld them, connect them in every way that he possibly could, but he could not, not without asking, and Jim wouldn’t even know what Spock was really doing to give his consent at this moment when passion and love overcame them.


Jim was yelling his name, but it little mattered to anyone but them, as no one could hear them this far away from anything else, and even if they could have, Spock would have been glad of it. He selfishly wanted no others to ever have Jim again. Only him.

Only him.

The force and intensity of his own orgasm nearly terrified him, but he felt safe with Jim, at least in that way, perhaps not entirely in other more emotional places, but in this, in this physical manifestation of all that was them, he felt safe.

He came hard, almost violently, as he thrust again and again into Jim, who clutched at him, tightly, desperately, mewling his own release against Spock’s shoulder.

When his penis stopped, finally, and began to wilt within Jim, Spock almost fell to the floor, for his knees really did feel uncommonly weak. But he stumbled them both across the hall and into the bedroom, laying them on the bed, withdrawing from Jim, but then lying on top of him.

Both of them were still wet from the rain, and Jim from some sweat too, Spock supposed, but they made no immediate move to disentangle and do anything about it. Spock thought perhaps the earth could open up beneath the farmhouse and swallow this room and this bed and he would care not nor move.

After a while he became aware that Jim was watching him with a particular intensity. The blueness of his eyes looked incredibly saturated in that moment and Spock’s heart began to pound. If Jim ever turned him away, truly, forever, Spock would not survive it.


“Yes, Jim?”

“It would have been all right. If you had.”

Spock hesitated. For he thought he knew what Jim referred to, but he would wait until Jim clarified.

“If you melded us.”

He shook his head. “I am not certain you are ready for that.”

“Me or you?”

“Both of us, perhaps. In our current vulnerable status, it might be unwise.”

“Afraid of what you might find?” Jim smiled wryly, but Spock saw the uncertainty behind the bravado.

“I am never afraid of what I find in your mind, Jim.”

“And what is that?”

Spock did not answer, quite certain Jim was not ready for that. He was relieved when Jim seemed to drop the subject for the moment. His own gaze strayed toward the scars on Jim’s arm and Jim watched him do so.

“I wish it had been me,” Spock heard himself say.


“On the shuttle instead of you. Then…you would have been whole, not broken, and still the magnificent captain I knew you to be.”

Jim closed his eyes. “I couldn’t handle it if you’d been there instead of me.”

“I have played the scenario over and over in my mind. Even fantasized that I went in place of you.” Spock let out a sigh. Jim was looking at him again. “You say that you could not have born it, yet I did and it was beyond difficult. I would have sacrificed everything to keep you safe.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m glad you weren’t,” Jim said. “You’ve sacrificed enough.”

He turned over so that Spock lay on his back and Jim over him as he looked down at him.

“I sometimes think that if I had told you before we were held prisoner, face to face, in my quarters or yours, it doesn’t matter, on the damn transporter, whatever. But what if I told you and you told me you loved me too. It could have been so different, Spock. Maybe we would have gone to New Vulcan and bonded, you and me. Ny would have still had Sylok, but we could have all raised him together, as a family, you know one of those extended family things, and Bones would have been his uncle, and I could still be captain and you’d be my first officer, and fuck, who knows, maybe Pavel would still be alive, because maybe the whole stupid shuttle thing wouldn’t have happened, because just one thing, one action or inaction, can change everything. Maybe, we could have had it all, right? We almost did, didn’t we?”

“Jim,” he said hoarsely.

“I don’t blame you at all for wanting to do Kolinahr, Spock. Fuck. Look at everything you’ve been through. You lost your whole planet. Friends, family on there. The place you grew up, that your ancestors were from. Your mom. You lost your mom. And sure, I didn’t have a dad, but I never did, you had your mom. And she loved you and she’s gone. And then everything with me and Nyota. And then losing Sylok. I absolutely don’t know how you didn’t lock yourself away in the tower of the highest castle somewhere away from all life and all humans and everything you’ve ever known. How, Spock?”

Tears had appeared in his eyes. Spock put his hand on Jim’s chest and felt his pounding heartbeat.

“Because you are my anchor and you always have been. It took me…too long to know it, to realize it, even though my counterpart tried to tell me all those years ago. I would not listen. But you are, Jim. And even if I had only one day left to live, I would always want to spend it with you.”

He wrapped his arms around Jim and held him very close. At first he felt wetness from Jim’s eyes, but eventually it stopped and Jim fell asleep on him. And for a time, anyway, there was peace.