Jim Kirk was drunk.
In a fountain.
The fact that it was night, well past sundown and into the purple-black of midnight, did not do anything to help conceal Jim's nudity. He was, as aforementioned, standing calf-deep in the basin of a fountain in the very public square before what passed for the local town hall, whose doors were still open to spill out dignitaries and party-goers who had gathered to celebrate that night's festival.
Spock flicked aside the irrelevant thought that the hall's doors were actually curtains made of long strings of tiny crystals, and thus always open as well as closed. Hands folded behind his back so tightly that his knuckles were white, he stepped closer to the fountain's basin and hissed again, "Captain. Captain Kirk."
Distracted by the call, Jim failed to block a spray of water flung at him by one of the aliens sharing the fountain with him, whose rubbery skin was the delicate lavender of the natives. Caught full in the face by the wave, Jim whipped his soaking hair out of his eyes and yelped an approximation of the natives' laugh, a trumpeting whinny. The natives flared their nostrils and blew air at him in amusement.
Jim splashed across the fountain to Spock, dripping from head to toe. Beaming, he reached overhead and wrapped both hands around the long, lizardlike spout that arched over that side of the basin, using it to keep his balance as he leaned forward through the cascading spray and grinned into Spock's face. Water frothed over his shoulders and chest, which were bathed in translucent turquoise light from the bioluminescent crystals set into the bottom of the basin.
"Hi, Spock!" he said happily. "'Sup?"
"Captain," Spock began, his voice low and dangerous. "Need I remind you that public nudity is an infraction of no less than fourteen Starfleet regulations for--"
"Yeah, on Federation planets whose local customs and laws forbid public nudity, which, need I remind you--" And here Jim flicked a finger at Spock, whipping it away again with a grin before Spock could grab his wrist-- "not all of them do. Four don't."
"This is not a Federation planet."
Jim was swaying back and forth by his grip on the water spout, his grin impish, and Spock refused to snatch for him. Still, he watched the human hawkishly in case Jim's grip should fail on the slippery stone.
"No, it's a non-Federation planet! It's a new non-Federation planet, Spock! We're having First Contact, come join us!"
"I believe there has been quite enough contact already," Spock bit out.
Jim looked taken aback, a little bit wounded and more than a little bit shocked. "Why're you calling me Captain again, Spock? Didn't we agree it was--"
"Not when we are on official Starfleet business," said Spock very quietly. He managed to catch hold of Jim's forearm, ignoring the way sinew and muscle slid beneath the wet skin, and tried to tug him from the fountain.
Jim resisted the pull stubbornly. "I am on Starfleet business! I'm First Contacting! They like nakedness!"
That much was true, at least. The Enterprise's xenocultural scientists had said as much at the extensive briefing earlier that week. Public nudity at gatherings was considered an act of openness and friendliness to the Iiri.
"The Iiri aside, I cannot see how this incident can possibly have a positive impact on your relations with the Enterprise's crew or the admiralty."
A laugh bubbled out of Jim's chest. "Okay, the crew? Where have you been for the last seven years, Spock? And the admiralty... we don't have to tell them. There's not a single camera on the planet 'cause the Iiri think image recorders steal a piece of a person's soul, so we don't even have to worry about something like Denobula Six happening. Besides, the rest of the away team went to that meeting on the western continent while we got stuck schmoozing here. Nobody's gonna see if I air out the boys for a bit."
"Be that as it may," Spock said, his voice steely, "I believe--"
Jim abruptly jerked his arm free, frowning. "Spock, what is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and low. "This isn't even a misdemeanor here, let alone an offense. Look around you. On Earth, people hug and hold hands in public, while that's almost public indecency on Vulcan. Here they get walk around naked even though that's public indecency on Earth. It's just different, and as a professional Starfleet officer on Federation business I would expect that you would understand and respect that cultural diversity even if you personally won't participate in it."
Spock stared. "You are not drunk."
Jim made a small, frustrated noise, still frowning. "No."
Spock moved to reach for Jim's wrist again, then aborted the motion and withdrew his hand sharply. "Jim," he said even more quietly, tipping his head to imply at least a modicum of privacy, "you are not required to participate in this custom. The Iiri have been most polite and obliging, and they have indicated out of mutual respect for our own cultures that we are quite free to follow our own native customs. It is not necessary for you to force yourself to be quite so... flagrant for them."
Beads of water ran Jim's his face, dripped from his nose. He was still for a moment, staring at Spock in silence. "When in Rome, Spock," he said at last. "I know it's not necessary, but I'm doing it anyway. It's a little bit awkward, yeah, but I'm not forcing myself. And it's making them so happy, didn't you see?"
He flung out a frustrated hand, shoving wet hair out of his face in order to raise his eyes skyward. Spock automatically followed Jim's gaze up to the two pale aqua moons that were casting bright bluish light down on the planet. "So what're you saying anyway, Spock? You follow your customs and we'll follow ours, and they'll follow theirs, and we'll all just agree to stay out of each others' way? That's hardly IDIC, and it's definitely not what the Federation is supposed to be. We're supposed to share."
"This is simple for you to say," Spock told Jim, still trying to keep his voice down. "Humans as a species are natural mimickers, excellent at adapting to--"
"Oh, and Vulcans aren't?"
"No. After logic, we most prize endurance and adherence to tradition. That does not lend itself well to--"
"But that doesn't mean--" Jim was beginning to raise his voice as he became annoyed, and as ever he failed to notice that it was attracting attention.
"If you would allow me to finish--"
"If you would just listen--"
"Jim, be quiet!" Spock snapped. He lashed out and seized the human's wrist, pulling Jim in close to him. "People. Are. Staring."
Jim's wide-eyed gaze flickered around the square, incomprehension writ large on his face. "Yeah," he said slowly, with a significant glance down at his wrist that Spock knew was supposed to indicate Jim's desire to be released. Spock ignored it. If anything, he tightened his grip slightly when he caught a half-nude Iiri woman gaping blatantly at Jim.
"They are looking at you," Spock said very softly, fighting the urge to do more than stare down the people ogling his captain and mate. "Please remove yourself from the fountain. I will fetch your uniform."
Jim was starting to smile, a slow sly curl at the corner of his mouth. "Spock, they're not staring 'cause I'm naked. Everybody's naked. Now let go of me."
It was not actually a request. After a moment, Spock deliberately released Jim's wrist. Still smiling, all Jim did was reach back up over his head and wrapped his hand back around the waterspout, his shoulders flexing under the spray. Spock nearly growled at the number of eyes that honed in on Jim at the movement-- beautiful, unselfconscious and guiltlessly unthinking that the motion had sent a tensing ripple through the tight musculature of his back and buttocks, unaware that there were eyes invading his privacy where he was unable to see them.
"Is that so? Why do they continue to visually molest you, then?" Spock demanded in a low tone, grasping for patience. The back of his neck was in a vise-clamp, a pressure from within bearing down on his mind to want, take, have-- the deep-rooted, passionate possessiveness that drove Vulcan love. Want him, take him away from them, have him.
Jim smiled sweetly and lifted himself onto his toes, every muscle in his body flexing and hardening beneath his sleek wet skin, poised as if ready to dive forward in a seamless tumble or fling himself into anti-grav freefall or arch his body into a wall for penetration. His eyes were laughing, his tongue a playful flicker just behind his teeth.
"'Cause I'm sexy."
Spock was struck speechless.
"That's the real problem, isn't it, Spock?" continued Jim in a low voice. His smile had turned wicked. "Not the naked part, but the public part of public nudity. You don't want them to look, is that it? Think they like what they see? Like it a little too much? Her? Or her? Or him?"
Spock's self-control snapped when Jim's eyes darted to the male Iiri, a pastel-skinned youth standing on the other side of the square in conversation with an older woman, entirely unaware of the conversation he had just been involved in. Red fury cracked in Spock's brain. His hand lashed out faster than Jim could dodge.
It was, perhaps, only the forewarning of what emotions he might be stirring up that prevented Jim from striking back with his military training when Spock seized his arm and yanked. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged forward, lurching unsteadily out of the fountain and nearly tripping over the edge of the basin. Gasping, Jim was dragged hard up against Spock, his arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle by the iron grip on his wrist. Spock's eyes were dark and molten with fury.
"Spock!" Jim hissed in outraged warning.
Startled out of the moment, Spock let go of Jim as though he had been burned. He whipped both of his hands behind his back, staring slightly wild-eyed apology at Jim for the outburst, but it was too late. Bare footsteps were already slapping quickly across the courtyard towards them.
"Gentlemen!" cried the Iiri mayor, his seven-digited hands fluttering in distress. Two other Iiri whose government positions loosely translated as councilmen were just behind him, their beaded garments half removed and trailing from the waist. "Please, this is surely unnecessary!"
"I'm afraid this may be a cultural misunderstanding, sir," Jim said politely, stepping forward to meet the mayor. Spock smoothly moved back a half pace, understanding both that despite the possessive red squeeze he needed to acknowledge Jim's official seniority, and that the Iiri were far more inclined to receive Jim positively in that moment than him.
The mayor was blinking both sets of lizardlike eyes very quickly, something which Spock understood tentatively as a sign of further distress. "There is no need for violence," the mayor said desperately.
Jim and Spock exchanged a quick glance at the last word, which the universal translator had hesitated over. "Oh, no, sir," Jim said quickly. "You see, it is a misunderstanding. Commander Spock's gesture wasn't exactly violent in either of our cultures. Impolite, yes, and impatient, but not violent."
The mayor hesitated, blinking some more at Jim. The Enterprise's xenocultural scientists had informed them that there was probably further importance to the Iiri's blinking than emotional cues, but nothing more was yet known. Spock was momentarily frustrated by the intelligence void. At last, however, the mayor gave a shuddering ripple of the skin down his spine, a gesture of tension release that the other two councilors mimicked to lesser degrees.
"Well," he said uncertainly, "if it is so for your cultures."
Still blinking in alternate sets, the mayor reached out and began to stroke Jim's arm with the fingertips of both hands in a gesture that Spock interpreted as nervousness, though Jim had said it seemed to him more like reassurance. Spock watched the gesture sharply, unaware that his eyes had narrowed until Jim nudged him with a heel.
"This is not quite true," Spock said abruptly, stepping closer to the mayor. "My gesture was not widely acceptable in either of our cultures. It was absolutely inappropriate by the standards of my people, and aggressive and rude by the standards of Captain Kirk's people. The error was mine. I overreacted and it was inexcusable. The captain was generous in attempting to cover my fault."
The Iiri mayor flinched, letting out a low moan that Spock had to remind himself did not mean the same thing as it did for humans. One of the councilmen stepped forward as well, plucking in agitation at Jim's arm. Jim looked bewildered as both he and the mayor attempted to tug Jim towards them.
"But why?" the mayor asked, clearly distraught. "Surely it is not-- you are not--"
"It was a minor disagreement," Jim said with a smile, his face open and confused and earnest. "Please, sir, sirs--" It was appropriate to address the Iiri separately when speaking to a group of differently ranked individuals-- "--I don't understand. Nobody was harmed. Spock erred and he lays claim to more fault than he deserves. He often does. Everything is well. Is it not?"
Lashless eyes shuttering rapidly, the mayor looked from Jim to Spock and back again. His uncertainty was evident. Hesitating, he began to pluck gently up to Jim's shoulder and then over his collarbones, the soft sticky pads of his fingers whispering over Jim's wet skin.
Jim tensed but Spock grew absolutely rigid. The mayor's hands moved lower, over Jim's hard pectoral. The redness tightened on Spock's skull again as he watched the mayor's fingers catch on Jim's nipple.
Not by design and not sexually, Spock forced himself to remember, still staring. This is a custom that I cannot interpret, knowing nothing yet of its significance or--
The mayor was staring up at Jim, his expression close to human urgency, but Jim just looked bewildered and made sort of a helpless shrug, uncertain how to respond or even whether he could pull away. Spock stood motionless, his respiration shaking. The councilman moved closer, fingertips pattering over Jim's elbow-- the mayor's fingers spread wide across the hard ridges of Jim's ribs-- Spock had to wait, had to watch and learn because he knew he didn't understand--
Touching lower down Jim's belly, lower-- had to wait--
Jim's sharp indrawn breath, bright blue eyes going wide with his own growing unease--
"Enough!" Spock snarled. Before he knew it he had taken Jim's arm and pulled him backwards, effectively removing the choice of action from the captain. "You will not touch him again."
"But this is--"
The mayor was petite, a delicate-looking biped with velvety pebbled skin and soft curves where Spock had hard lines and sharp angles and long bones that allowed him to loom more than two Terran feet over the Iiri. "You will not touch him again," he repeated, with entirely more harsh enunciation than necessary. Jim made a small noise of protest that Spock ignored when he pushed himself forward to shield Jim's nudity from the mayor.
Outraged, the mayor demanded, "How dare you attempt to prevent others from sharing his skin? To say that it is forbidden to celebrate--"
"You cannot do that to him!" one of the councilmen yelped. "You cannot speak for--"
"Okay, that's enough," Jim said. He stepped back into the middle against Spock's attempt at blocking. With a hand on either of their chests, Jim pushed Spock and the mayor firmly apart, shooting a sharp look at Spock that brooked no refusal. Spock's nostrils flared, his stare fixed on the place where Jim's hand touched the Iiri's naked chest.
Mimicking an Iiri smile that made his curved eyebrows rise as far as they could, Jim said formally, "Sir, sirs, I apologise deeply. I hope that this gesture does not offend you and I apologise further if it does, because that is not my intention. This misunderstanding has become far more complicated than I wanted it to be. I believe both of our sides are confused by the others, and our further reactions can only make things worse. Please, I think it best if we separated at this point to calm ourselves and organise the thoughts we wish to express so that we can communicate them more clearly and resolve this confusion at a later time. I, for one, need to speak with my first officer in private right now. If you would please grant us leave to go elsewhere...?"
By asking the Iiri for a favour, Jim had placed them in an awkward position to refuse and made it so that they were the more gracious side if they agreed. It was a clever diplomatic maneuver, Spock had to admit. Seven years had been a long time for Jim to practise. Between his polite speech and pleasant smile, he was a difficult man to refuse.
At last, the Iiri mayor shuddered his skin again. "You are permitted," he said slowly. "But when we resolve this, I wish you to present yourself without Commander Spock, please, sir." He darted an anxious look at Spock.
"Certainly. We will not be far tonight, sir, sirs. We do intend to stay and honor your festival tonight." Jim shot a hard look at Spock before he could protest. "Don't we, Spock."
"Yes," Spock said very quietly, after a pause. "So we do." His hands began to rise but hesitated at his waistband. Then, before he could falter again, he quickly lifted the hems of his shirts and stripped off both the blue uniform shirt and his blacks in one motion. Bare-chested beneath the teal moonlight, Spock looked steadily at the mayor.
"All of the festival?"
"All of the festival," Jim repeated firmly, steel that was meant for Spock below the warmth. "Come, Commander. Have a good night, sir, sirs."
"Be blue, gentlemen," replied the mayor reluctantly. Jim's parting phrase probably sounded as stilted to the Iiri as theirs did to Jim and Spock. The translator had hardly been perfected, and colloquialisms were always stumbling blocks.
Spock lengthened his stride as they walked away across the square, doing his best to subtly hurry Jim along, out of sight of the idling Iiri who glanced up at them and stopped to look. Jim was having none of it.
"Don't you dare grab my arm," Jim said very quietly. "They think you're abusive, Spock. The last thing we need is for them to see you dragging me away."
Spock forced himself to slow down and dropped his eyes to the pavement. The stone was smooth and clean enough that it was safe to go barefoot. His brain was telling him the seamless flat rock looked volcanic, naturally formed, but he knew it was an excuse for distraction. He took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Jim. I... should not have reacted in that manner at all, let alone before a new people and on official Starfleet business. It was inexcusable and I am entirely at fault."
Jim sighed a little, but when the backs of his fingers brushed Spock's, Spock looked up to find Jim giving him a little smile. "No reason that has to make it onto the report," Jim said. "Mistakes happen. Things get confused. We'll work everything out."
"Nonetheless, I am--"
Spock broke off abruptly. Jim followed his gaze quizzically.
Just down the street in front of them, there was an indistinct shape leaning up against the wall of a building, shadows and watery moonlight distorting the figure. Spock wondered momentarily if the Iiri had been injured. Then the shape shifted, two separate bodies becoming apparent, one pressing the other harder against the wall with an undulating roll of the spine. Spock realised what was happening at the same time that Jim gave a soft huff of amused comprehension.
"Don't worry about it," Jim murmured, glancing away with a slightly awkward grin. "Just don't stare."
"I was not staring," Spock said stiffly. Removing his attention from the coupling Iiri, he fussed with the shirts still in his hands, stripping them apart and folding them both neatly.
"You are aware what the festival entails, right?"
"The briefing was quite clear on that matter, and I, unlike you, actually attended it." Dissatisfied with the garments, Spock shook them out and began to fold them again.
"Excuse me? I missed one hour of it because Komack commed me and I had to take the unannounced preemptive wrist slapping."
Spock said nothing. His fists were making wrinkles in the shirts.
He stopped abruptly, forcing Jim to halt as well. The red pressure was trying to curl his fingers into claws, making his hands ache to grab Jim and draw him close in unequivocal ownership, away from the calm, oblivious Iiri who were strolling down the street or sitting clustered on doorsteps, most of them naked or nearly so. It was only when the Iiri noticed that the two too-tall, too-lean figures were pale-skinned beneath the blue moonlight that they double-took and stared, whispering to each other in amazement. Spock was unaffected by who looked at his chest, but Jim was entirely naked and that was something else entirely, even if Jim seemed to damnably not care.
"You stated your intent to stay for the entire festival," Spock stated flatly. Jim nodded, his expression stubborn. "You will not, however, participate."
Jim's eyebrows flew up in what Nurse Chapel had once called an oh-no-you-didn't expression. "I'm sorry?" Jim demanded. "Are you giving me orders, now? In our relationship?"
Spock twisted his shirts between his hands, feeling the heat-conducting filaments in the special fabric crackle. "You will not participate," he repeated, his patience a cracking veneer over hot senseless take. He tried to speak rationally. "You cannot, Jim. It is impossible. You do not have the requisite anatomy to join with an Iiri."
"To join with--" Open mouthed, Jim gaped at him. "Are you insane? You thought-- you think I'd have sex with an Iiri for some stupid cultural exchange? Never mind that the admiralty would have my balls for fucking a native during First Contact negotiations, you think I would-- for-- I meant you, you dumbass! I meant we could participate. Together."
Spock's jaw tightened. "Before all of the Iiri, of course? Where they can see every cry and twitch that belongs to me?"
Jim made a frustrated snorting noise but gave no further reply, glaring at Spock. Finally, he jerked his head and began to walk again, leaving Spock no choice but to go as well. An angry silence hung between them as they wound farther through the city's stone streets, with no particular direction. Everywhere they went, quiet happy Iiri were walking arm in arm or gathered to talk, casually plucking at each others naked bodies as they did so.
In the terse silence, Spock noticed that the blue shine on Jim's skin had faded to nothing more than a faint wash. The twin aqua moons were going down on the horizon and a reddish glow was smouldering on the opposite side of the sky, leaving the unlit streets to grow dimmer with every moment. Shadows deepened; a dull red gloom stole over the sky. It barely clarified when the pregnant swell of the third moon crested the horizon, a swollen scarlet arc twice as large as either of the other satellites.
By the time the red moon had risen fully, the Iiri kissing antennae-tips had nearly all turned to coupling against walls and on the ground, their pleasure spread naked beneath the sky for all to see. Sated couples-- or triples or groups-- lay sprawled on the clean stones, smiling as they watched others continue. A few that were still fucking gestured cheerfully at Spock and Jim, clearly asking them to join. Though Jim grinned awkwardly and shook his head and repeated the few syllables of polite Iiri refusal that he knew, Spock grew more and more tense. The want, take, have smouldered beneath his skin like a fever, bitter, burning for relief.
The houses were all dark, the only light a burnished crimson glow that lit the the planes and curves of bare skin just enough to make out bodies. There were enough people still strolling around that Spock and Jim were not immediately out of place. At one point they had to dodge a riotous crowd playing the universal game of tag, slapping and tickling and whinnying laughter.
Though the natives did not seem to have tired of the night, Spock felt they had spent more than enough time in the city to justify their participation in the festival. He was about to say so to Jim when an Iiri woman suddenly stepped into their path, reaching for Jim. Her expression was nothing but innocent and friendly and delighted, just a girl thrilled to see the aliens for the first time, maybe emboldened or even overjoyed by their participation in Iiri customs, expressing herself to them in what she saw as a completely normal manner--
--and Spock cut her off completely. With an arm around Jim's waist he pulled Jim out of her reach and away, the motion too powerful for Jim to fight. Jim cursed and stumbled but the girl had already recoiled and Spock had not stopped walking, his long stride jerking them past quickly.
"Jesus Christ!" Jim swore. "Spock, are you high? What is wrong with you tonight?"
"Get in here," Spock said tersely, at the end of his patience. Fingers digging kisses into Jim's hip, he muscled Jim into an alley that lead from the main street.
The passage was only a narrow, unlit gap between two long buildings, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side. As angry as Spock could tell the human was, Jim didn't protest. Once they were well into the dark alley, however, Jim shoved his arm off. The want and the take surged in Spock's chest, battering against his self control. He already had Jim, already had his acceptance and his permissions a hundred times over; Jim was already his, and that was the only reason that Spock permitted himself to snatch Jim back against him and shove him into a wall.
"Spock, what th--"
Teeth bared, Spock smashed their mouths together. His teeth grated against Jim's painfully and he thrust hard with his tongue, forcing his way between Jim's teeth and into his mouth. Startled, Jim made tiny sounds trapped in the back of his throat, sounds that Spock did his best to keep jealously trapped with the unrelenting savagery of a human kiss. He felt Jim struggling against him, hands pushing futilely against his chest-- and then Jim surrendered to the kiss with a last few half-hearted smacks on the shoulder. The tight knotting of his fists in Spock's hair was infinitely more pleasing.
Spock finally broke the kiss, breathless. In the darkness he could see almost nothing, but he could feel Jim's breath gasping fast and graceless against his face, hear the wet sounds of his throat swallowing. Only the faint glisten of Jim's eyes and the spit on his plundered mouth was visible.
"I will not share you," Spock said raggedly, harsher on his secondary vocal cords than the fluid morphology of Terran Standard ever called for. "They may not touch you, they may not look at you, they may not have you. I will not share you."
"I wasn't asking you to--"
"You were," he insisted. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, fingertips digging into the short strands of hair at Jim's nape. "You let them see you. You do not belong to them, Jim."
Desperation clutching his chest, Spock gripped Jim's neck harder at the same time as his other hand slid around to cradle the curve of Jim's skull with infinite tenderness. "I do not understand," he continued thickly, "why you would torment me so in front of the Iiri. Have I displeased you? Have I... failed you as a mate? Have I not met your needs sufficiently?"
"Spock, no. I--" Jim's hand came up and touched his face, thumb stroking over his lips clumsily but with obvious affection. "I don't... I don't want anybody but you. Definitely not the Iiri. I just-- it was politics, Spock. Xenocultural relations, you know that, you must--" Jim's breath caught hoarsely. "You know that, right?"
Spock let out a shuddering exhalation, caught between the twin urges to shake Jim violently and to ravage him until he was too exhausted and deliriously pleasured to even consider prospective mates other than Spock. "Intellectually. But if you wish to respect alien cultures, Jim, then I suggest you respect mine. I will not share your body with the Iiri. I am not some jealous human. I am Vulcan, and this is how I love."
His fist tightened in Jim's coarse, textured golden hair, pulling until Jim's chin tipped high and Spock could see the bright gleam of involuntary tears in his eyes-- tears Jim would never permit anyone else to draw from him, tears that Jim would shed before he would utter a noise of pain. Spock felt his chest well with sudden adoration for Jim's dual stubbornness and compliance, that he would so freely surrender parts of himself to Spock, and only Spock, while clinging to other defiances to the last of his strength. "This is how I love thee, Jim."
Jim's lips moved soundlessly in what looked like a hard swallow before he could reply. Spock had to tip his head even closer in to hear the dry whisper of, "I know."
It was true. Though not in a meld, Spock could feel Jim's honest emotions through the thumb still resting against the corner of his mouth. There was no hesitation, no doubt in Jim. In the darkness, he felt Jim's heart beating against his ribs-- the seat of love, as humans believed.
Suddenly struck by a thought, Spock cocked his head to the side slightly. Suddenly everything made sense.
"I will never fathom the human propensity for lying," he said softly. "When Vulcans seek reassurance of their mate's fidelity and interest, they ask for it. They do not taunt their mate into an illogical display of possession."
Jim jerked. "I didn't--"
"No?" Spock inquired. Met with silence, he tugged Jim's head to the side and leaned in close; in the darkness, the long lick he had intended for Jim's ear fell across Jim's sweat-salty cheek instead, but it elicited the desired shiver anyway. "Why else would you behave as you have tonight? Professionalism did not demand that you go completely nude, nor that you frolic in that fountain-- nor that you pose yourself in front of the entire square. Your proclivities are many, but I believe I would know by this point if exhibitionism was one of them. No, you tease and you push me into proclaiming myself to you, when I would willingly and gladly offer you any proof of my affections you desired if you would only ask."
Jim's jawline was sharp with a graze of stubble that rasped against Spock's rough, catlike tongue. At Jim's shudder, Spock pushed him even harder against the wall, covering as much of Jim with his body as he could. In such close contact, it was impossible to miss the hardness pushing against his thigh. His groin throbbed in response, the latent heat there flaring into a familiar tension as his quickly growing erection became tighter in the channel of his sheath.
"I do and always shall love thee, James Tiberius Kirk," Spock whispered harshly. "I will not surrender you to another. I will not leave you. I will not neglect you. You are mine. Do you understand this?"
Jim's throat bobbed as he swallowed again. "Yes," he said, and Spock knew better than to comment on the hoarseness of it. Instead, he framed a bite against Jim's throat, then another and another farther downwards on the muscle of Jim's shoulder, leaving a trail of saliva everywhere the mayor had touched.
"Do you?" Spock demanded. He snapped a much harder bite on Jim's shoulder, confident that it would be covered by a shirt.
Jim bent into an arc against him, his hips grinding into Spock's. "Fuck, yes!"
His hands scrambled for Spock's belt buckle, popping the button of his pants with speed born of desperation. The two of them worked in desperate unison for a matter of seconds, and them Spock's boots and pants lay flung on the alley's stone ground, nothing but Spock's Starfleet issue underwear between them. It was hardly a barrier; Jim had no trouble sliding one hand down the front to stroke the tip of Spock's penis as it tried to emerge from his sheath, trapped by the tight undergarments. Spock stifled a growl at the combined sensations of Jim's forefinger skating across the slick head and the incredible, near painful pressure of his erection straining against his sheath.
Spock's need for confirmation was neither illogical nor vain. He knew firsthand that humans could find Vulcan love frightening or smothering, or anything in between. The immense rarity of marriages and bondings between Vulcans and members of other species was not due as much to Vulcan arrogance and isolationism as many believed it was. After all, a species could not logically profess IDIC for six thousand years without ever actually embracing the principle. In fact, emotional compatibility on a level any more serious than that of familiar associates was a major source of difficulty.
Uhura had been unable to stand it. She said she had felt controlled, felt as if Spock had been removing her agency as an independent woman. He had been unable to refute the argument: he loved in the powerful, all-consuming and well documented way that his people loved, and she felt how she felt in response. Neither of them were at fault for that.
But Jim-- Jim, who had been abandoned over and over again since the day of his birth-- needed that. He absorbed Spock's love like a man dying of thirst did water, and craved it when Spock was less overt from time to time.
It was entirely possible that Spock craved Jim's demands as well. If Jim knew of his longing to be not only useful or necessary but superfluously desired, then he knew it in the same way Spock knew of Jim's childhood: from melds only, conducted privately and in the such darkness that they could not see each other's faces across the pillow, never aloud.
"Turn," ordered Spock gutturally, far gone enough that he might have accidentally said it in Vulcanir, but Jim knew the command in either language. He was more preoccupied with sucking the sweat from the hollows of Jim's clavicles.
Jim withdrew his hand from Spock's briefs, dragging fingertips wet with Spock's slickness across his shoulder. "Wanna fuck you," he muttered into Spock's fiberglass-sleek hair, lipping kisses across the top of his head. "Don't wanna bottom tonight-- fuck, Spock, show you how much I want you more than any Iiri."
Spock slid a hand between their bodies. Jim was rutting his cock between Spock's thighs, friction eased by the smears of natural lubricant that had soaked through Spock's underwear. The sensation was glorious for both of them, the head of Spock's penis rubbed through the damp fabric by every thrust of Jim's cock. Nonetheless, Spock took Jim's member in hand, holding him still. Jim groaned in disappointment-- groaned more loudly when Spock pushed his foreskin down farther and slid a thumb across his slit.
"No. I am going to take you tonight, Jim," Spock growled, when any other night he would have said I wish to make love to you tonight or May I be the dominant partner this time? "I am going to have your body as my own. You are mine, and you will remember why. Be my sheath, t'nash-veh adun. I burn for thee. Let me quench myself in you."
Jim moaned shakily. "Well, how can a girl say no to that?" he slurred. "Fuck, yes, Spock--"
Spock didn't manhandle Jim around; he didn't need to. Jim squirmed for just enough space to move and spun around willingly, moaning when Spock pinned him up against the wall with the length of his body once more. An impatient moment later, Spock had shed the last of his clothing and stood entirely naked, his body cloaked in shadows and red moonlight. He gasped a syllable of relief as his erect penis slid from its sheath at last, slick and engorged.
Pressing into Jim, Spock sought out the human's hands and twined their fingers together, then pinned Jim's palms flat to the wall on either side of his head. Jim's body was a taut, sweat-slick coolness against him, pliant and welcoming. Determined to show just how deep and visceral his love ran, Spock bit and nipped hungrily at Jim's shoulders, his self restraint in shreds like a shed snakeskin. The alien salt of sweat and the flex of hard muscle against his tongue were intoxicating.
Not bothering to modulate the rasp of his aroused panting, Spock thrust his hips against Jim without finesse or design, his cock rubbing slick trails across Jim's buttocks and the backs of his thighs. Jim moaned, his breath washing hot over their joined left hands. When Spock's penis slid into the crack of Jim's buttocks entirely by accident, hitting his balls, they both gasped.
Spock lifted his head to suck Jim's ear, his tongue curling beneath the curved rim. He muttered praise in High Vulcanir, the old emotional pre-Reformation words that meant the same as Jim's disjointed swearing.
At the moment, Jim was begging and cursing Spock alternately, his filthy words meant to provoke in whatever manner possible. "...fuck, you whore, get on with it and fuck me, Spock, please, I need you to, I want it so bad..."
In the raw animal parts of his self, Spock felt the insults were entirely unacceptable. Take, roared his blood, both demanding and grovelling for Jim's exaltations instead.
"Bek-tor, adun," Spock breathed. He disentangled one hand from Jim's, trailing it down the musculature of Jim's back to delve between his buttocks. Taking his cock in hand, Spock panted harshly as he found Jim's entrance. He rubbed the head of his member up and down, smearing lubricant across the tight pucker, butting his tip against the unprepared entrance teasingly.
"Oh god," Jim said suddenly, squirming. "Spock, oh, not now, I can't--"
"You have taken it before," rasped Spock, and held Jim immobile with the weight of his body as he slowly pressed the head of his penis in. A shudder wracked Jim as he was breached, his muscles stretching already. "Mekha'velik ma tranush t'sel, Jim. Relax. Open for me. We have done this before."
"'M not ready," groaned Jim, but his body was opening easier than he claimed as Spock continued to edge in.
Every psi point in his body tuned to pick up the first trace of pain from any inch of Jim's bare skin, Spock moved slowly but inexorably, drinking in the deliriously gratified whimpers Jim was making. Of course Jim would later deny the noises, but not his satisfaction at the sweet, white-edged burn of being filled so completely.
As intent as Spock was on claiming Jim's body, there was no reason for Jim to be hurt in the process. Anybody who claimed pain was a normal and intractable part of sex deserved to be chemically castrated, as far as Spock was concerned. When he had learned about Jim's expectations of and past experiences with anal sex the first time they had tried to go that far, he had been... emotional. Six weeks had passed before Spock was willing to go beyond fingerfucking Jim senseless, by which time Jim had been properly convinced of the merits of thorough preparation.
They had long since passed the landmark of penetrative sex, and even then Jim had hardly been a virgin. He could and had safely taken Spock without preparation, though the same could not be said of the reverse. Vulcan anatomy was quite specifically designed for such a thing, in fact, due to a long evolutionary history of less than willing mates. Spock's penis was much longer but far thinner than the average human member, and his body provided its own lubrication.
If I hurt you, ashayam, he had once told Jim, then I am doing it wrong.
"Open yourself for me," Spock whispered again. The head of his cock buried in Jim's clenching body, he twined his hand with Jim's once more. Jim panted, moaned-- flexed his muscles jerkily-- and spread his feet wider. Feeling the burn of triumph in his chest, Spock thrust his hips shallowly and claimed another inch of depth even as the logical part of his brain was telling him that there was no reason to triumph or claim, that Jim was safely his and always would be, that Jim didn't need to be conquered like a battlefield or a new slave--
Another shudder wracking his body, Jim fisted his hands so that Spock's knuckles were compressed to the edge of pain between Jim's. Each time Spock thrust a little deeper Jim let out a hoarse grunt, an, "Uh!" of air punched out of his lungs by intense sensation just barely on the right side of melting into agony. They had once melded through a similar experience and Spock knew what Jim was feeling. Every time Spock sank a bit deeper Jim thought that that was it, he couldn't possibly take another inch, couldn't stand the fullness for another second without screaming-- and then every time Spock paused between thrusts, Jim grabbed a breath and reeled and wanted to cry for the renewed burn of Spock's cock sliding against his overstimulated nerve endings again, again, again, anything for just one more push, he could take it...
The flat, trembling firmness of Jim's buttocks was like a reward when Spock's pelvic bone finally smacked against them. Without pause for breath, he withdrew and began to work his way back in again, a little faster, the way already eased by his lubricant. Jim groaned and pushed back against him, begging for more even though his hole was already stretched red and tight around Spock's length.
Neither of them wanted to wait to adjust to the sensation, to ease through the burn of stretching or the glorious friction of cool flesh. Slow immersion was for sloppy sleepy mornings and nights under the blankets worshipping each other after a long separation and afternoons spent making the experience last for hours, starting with massages and ending with lazy kissing that trailed off into sated exhaustion. The entirety of Spock's patience had already been used up on reining in the first thrust. His mate was prepared just enough for safety's sake and now squirming with need; that was enough for him to let go.
Spock quickly worked his way up to a punishing tempo, the slap of his pelvis against Jim's buttocks echoing against the narrow stone alley walls. Breath snorting through his nostrils, he licked his way around the curve of Jim's ear and tasted the slight bitterness of earwax, bit his way down Jim's neck devouring his salty sweat and leaving inflamed marks. Every one of his senses was full of Jim, drowning in him, overwhelmed by him.
Jim's fingers twisted over and around his, stroking and rubbing out a fervent kiss that made Spock's toes tingle despite its clumsiness. Talented as Jim was with his mouth, he would probably never be skilled at Vulcan kissing; he hadn't grown up with the concept and his lack of manual sensitivity left him guessing. It was a good thing that Spock personally "liked it rough," as humans said, and the emotion pouring from Jim's skin made his intentions more than clear.
"So good, ashayam-ta," Spock murmured. "Your eagerness pleases me greatly. Do you feel how?"
"Yeah-- oh, yeah." Jim practically writhed against him. Spock knew that it was less because of pleasure and more because of pure enthusiasm, the joy that Jim took in the movement and action of sex. "Yeah, I f-feel you, I-- fuck! Yes, ohh..."
Slamming as hard as he could against the welcoming curve of Jim's rump, Spock asked delicately, "Do I please you?"
"Fuck, S-- spuh, Spock-- oh god, nn, I-- you know you d-- uh-- c-can't even get a wuh-word out pro-- Spock, oh, huh, like that-- god, you do, you do! Oh god, nnngh..."
Incoherency suited Jim well. The words almost fulfilled Spock better than the physical pleasure he was getting out of it.
Spurred on by the needy hitch of Jim's breath between stutters, Spock slammed into Jim with unrelenting force. Jim's arms began to buckle; he slipped on the pavement, pushed against the wall, strained back. Sweat was running freely down his back, cool on Spock's chest and groin where they rubbed together.
Spock's inner thighs were wet with his own slickness, extra lubricant dripping from his sheath. Below the sharp sweet flare of pleasure each time he sunk into Jim's ass, he could feel his orgasm building. The internal testicles right above his pubic bone were beginning to throb, swelling full and tight.
"Jim, I am near." It was a struggle to get the words out. "I need thee, ashayam. Take all of me in."
"Go ah-head," Jim gasped.
That was all the permission Spock needed. He disentangled their joined hands again, wrapping one around the bony jut of Jim's hip for leverage as his thrusts grew increasingly frantic and sliding the other up to seek Jim's face. Jim licked and nibbled Spock's fingers blindly as they fumbled past his mouth. Spreading his fingertips across the correct psi points, Spock reeled out the ancient words in Vulcanir and slipped into Jim's mind with a sigh of relief. The plunge of raw emotion and sensation engulfing his mind whole was all Spock needed to fracture and fly over the edge.
He heard Jim choke out a wail of pleasure, convulsing and jerking as Spock rutted out his release. The mental explosion of Spock's pleasure wasn't enough to physically trigger Jim's own orgasm, but he felt it firsthand anyway. Buried deep within Jim, Spock felt Jim's channel grow slippery with his semen. Letting out a breath of satisfaction, he looped an arm around Jim's waist, spared two seconds to curl as close to his mate as possible and bask in the possessive triumph, and then picked up the pace again.
Still physically unsatisfied, his erection bobbing against his stomach with each thrust, Jim moaned happily. There were very few times that he was ever dissatisfied with the Vulcan ability to experience multiple orgasms. Spock's repeated explanations of his physiology's evolutionary logic seemed unable to crack Jim's insistence that Spock was obviously 'just a sex god.'
Evolution and logic entirely aside, Spock wasted no time in regaining his rhythm and speed. He didn't want his erection to soften for even a moment. He wasn't finished with Jim yet.
"Oh," Jim moaned, sounding almost surprised. His body arched, catlike. "Spock, fuck, there. Right there."
"Do not touch yourself," growled Spock. "I will tend to all of your needs, Jim."
Jim whined, a shiver running down his back. "K-keep going. I wanna--"
"You will," Spock promised. "I assure you, Jim, there is no danger of me stopping."
A breathless laugh was forced out of Jim's chest, followed by what sounded like the rest of the breath in his lungs as Spock suddenly rammed in harder. Jim gave a loud, strangled cry, pleasure snapping from his skin to Spock's.
Chanting under his breath, "There, there, there," Jim pushed up on his toes, offering himself up as best he could beneath the onslaught. Spock could feel Jim's legs shaking. He gripped his mate's hips more tightly, to which Jim groaned something vaguely grateful.
"Spock! Spock, yes... uh, hhhuh, there, please... nngh... oh, oh, ohhh, yes-- fuck! Spock! I-- guh--"
"Jim, be quiet," Spock rumbled. When Jim only moaned loudly in response, Spock bit the back of his neck quite sharply. "You fail to remember that the street is well within hearing distance of us."
"I have not observed any of the Iiri making a great deal of noise during copulation."
"To do so would draw undue attention." Before Jim could speak again, Spock growled into his ear, "I do not wish them to see you like this. You are mine, your body is mine, and your pleasure is mine. This is something I have no desire to share."
"Guh. I-- unh, yeah... Nnng... Shit! Spock!"
"Adun, be silent."
"Can't-- oh god, I can't, Spock, I can't, oh fuck, yes, fuck--" With a desperate squirm, Jim wailed like a cat in heat.
Spock slowed his hips immediately, as much as his own body was singing for him not to. Deprived of the pleasure that had been ripping through him, Jim let out a frustrated whine. "Jim!"
Spock froze entirely at the hesitant call. He felt Jim slump against the smooth stone wall with an almost inaudible groan. The only reason Spock did not immediately move to shove Jim behind him and cover his mate was because the alley was so pitch black that he couldn't even see Jim's shoulders more than six inches from his face. The dim red moonlight didn't penetrate that far into the narrow alley, and even if they were backlit by light at the other end of the alley, the mayor wouldn't be able to make out more than their combined silhouette.
"Yes, sir?" Jim asked, forcing his voice into a credible imitation of his level, polite captain's tone. It was all the more laudable for the fact that Spock's penis was still buried deep in his channel, twitching slightly against his stretched, hypersensitive tissue. Spock was quite sure he was resting against Jim's prostate, in point of fact.
"Please, gentlemen, is... that is, I-- Captain, are you..." The mayor sounded nearly incoherent with distress; in a human, that tone would have been accompanied by helplessly wringing hands. Spock did not care much about the strain they had evidently caused the mayor, and he cared even less to know how the man had found them. "Is everything well?"
In the darkness, Jim huffed an incredulous, almost silent laugh of disbelief, the noise meant only for him and Spock. "You're fucking kidding me," he whispered hoarsely. Then, more loudly, he replied, "Of course it is. And are youwell, sir?"
Spock considered for a moment, then pinched Jim quite hard on the side, indicating that he should very much like for Jim to make the mayor leave. Immediately, please. Now.
"You are not injured, then, gentlemen? It was heard that... it sounded as if you were in great pain. I can get you to a medic immediately," the mayor added quickly, as genuinely eager to help as he could be.
Jim's shoulders shook with silent laughter for a few seconds, the force of it squeezing him tight around Spock's length. Spock rocked his hips sharply in retaliation, shifting just a fraction deeper into Jim.
"No," Jim gasped, too urgently. He struggled to recover his poise. "No, sir. Thank you, but it's quite unnecessary."
"But-- if your Commander-- then..." The mayor seemed deeply reluctant to voice his concerns aloud, but his doubt was evident.
"Look, sir," said Jim, finally laughing a little, "we're both just fine. We're enjoying your festival very much, you see."
"Yes. The proper gesture is to couple sexually in public, isn't it?" Only Spock could hear the sudden slight edge of tension in Jim's voice, the faint worry that their xenocultural scientists might have misinterpreted the native customs just a bit incorrectly, to possibly disastrous results. It was an ever-present concern on away missions, let alone First Contacts.
"Yes, it-- oh." Spock saw the mayor's dim outline shift, his head cocking in sudden curiosity. "Is that how you do it," he said, sounding caught between fascination and shock. Spock was confronted with the sudden realisation that the Iiri people might have better dark vision than did humans or Vulcans, but the discovery did not fascinate him as it usually would have; instead, he had to bite back rather hard on a growl.
Jim wasn't even trying to stop himself from heaving with silent laughter anymore. The repeated clench of his quivering body made Spock's blood burn. "Yes," Jim huffed, out of breath and amused. "And we'd like to get back to it, if you don't mind."
"Oh!" The universal translator put an edge of embarrassment on the exclamation. "Oh, certainly, gentlemen. Of course. I shall find you again when you have finished."
The moment the mayor's silhouette had vanished from the mouth of the alley, Spock wrenched Jim around on the spot, lifted his left leg and rammed into him as hard as he could. Jim was driven up on tiptoe by the force of it, his spine shoved back against the wall even as he arched in pleasure, a high shocked cry bursting from his lips.
"You are indescribable," Spock said, in a tone that would have been called a snarl if he hadn't been Vulcan. "I see I have not yet sufficiently demonstrated my commitment to making you cease thinking of anybody but me. I shall have to increase the intensity of my endeavors, then."
Chest to chest against him, arms twined desperately around Spock's neck, Jim was gasping and whimpering, unable to form any kind of coherent speech as Spock plundered his body mercilessly. Pleasure made Jim's limbs shake. At last Jim moaned and let his body go dangerously slack, giving himself up to be supported almost entirely by Spock's arms, held as easily as a small child. Spock smiled inwardly in satisfaction, lifting Jim a bit higher to increase the rate of his thrusts.
It might not have been entirely fair for Spock to drop his mental shields entirely and spill his own chest-twisting pleasure over through Jim's skin, as Jim seemed rather overwhelmed by it, but Spock found the result-- a limp, twitching, incoherently blitzed mate that kept trying to spread his thighs just a bit wider-- too gratifying to resist. Jim had never complained about a mid-coital meld before... after he regained the ability to verbalise coherently, that was. Screaming was overrated when Spock could feel the unvocalised electricity surging just below Jim's skin, anyway.
"Oh," groaned Jim, his head lolling forward against Spock's shoulder. "'M close, Spock, 'm s-so close, oh, oh, please..."
Jim dragged his head back to look Spock in the eye. Their noses nearly brushing, they could just barely make each other out in the ruddy darkness. Jim's face was flushed and sweaty, his mouth slack with bliss. The crystalline gleam of his ice-blue irises had nearly been swallowed by his pupils, leaving his eyes wide and dark and needy.
"S-- Sss--" Jim's lower lip trembled, his face opening wide as some kind of shock bloomed across it, and he struggled to force out a single word in the face of his climax starting up uncurl white and silent like the flare of a supernova building in the black vacuum of space. "S-Spock--"
Spock's fingers dug into Jim's hips so hard that they left dark crimson marks when Jim's release cracked through both of them, their bodies convulsing instinctively together. Spock couldn't hear Jim's scream over the rush of blood in his ears, but he could feel it vibrating against his teeth as their mouths ground savagely together.
Jim was clenched, hands white-knuckled in Spock's hair, his entire body jerking rigidly through the surge of his climax spurting against Spock's stomach-- starting to tremble, sucking raggedly for breath-- slackening, the shock of it all still in his eyes-- collapsing into Spock's arms with a final broken moan, nothing more than slack muscle and heaving chest and damp tangled hair and satiated blood thundering beneath his sweat-slick skin.
Finding it suddenly hard to keep his balance, Spock was forced to let Jim drop to the pavement somewhat awkwardly. Jim coughed and gasped and grabbed for him. They slumped against the wall, clinging to each other. Panting for his own breath, Spock found that he must have achieved climax along with Jim, because the knot of heat in his loins had dissipated into lax, humming warmth. His penis was softening, sliding out of Jim and back into his sheath still dripping with fluids. Hot semen leaked from Jim's sloppy entrance as Spock slowly withdrew.
"Holy shit," Jim whispered, stunned and more than a little thrilled. "Jesus, Spock, I..."
"You are now satisfied with the depth of my emotional commitment to you, I trust?"
Jim trailed his fingers over Spock's face, tracing his nose and the softness of his mouth. "I know we said no sex on missions, even if the natives really, really want us to, but we need to break that rule more often. That was some damn good sex."
"I mean, damn good sex. You know you're some kind of Vulcan sex god, right? Multiple telepathic orgasms, shit--"
"Jim." Spock caught his mate's fingers, which had been teasing his eartips.
Jim was silent for a moment, his face almost lost in the darkness except for the faintest of red gleams over his cheekbones and nose. Spock felt a tremor of pensive emotion through Jim's cool skin.
"Yeah," Jim said at last, his throat crackling. "Yeah. I know. I--" He coughed, turning his head away. "I'm sorry about this, Spock, I really am. I mean, we said no sex on missions, and that's a rule, right? And I know how you feel about rules, and I'm sorry, sometimes I just get stupid about--"
"I have already empirically proven that powerful orgasms makes you prone to verbalising illogical statements and blatant untruths, so I shall now assume that this is the direct cause of you calling yourself stupid and apologising for an act which I clearly initiated and enjoyed."
In the next moment, Jim's arms had tightened around his neck and Jim's face was buried against his shoulder, kisses in the shapes of smiles being pressed against his skin. "Yeah, that," Jim muttered. "You are the most fucking amazing adun ever, you know that?"
"A statement which is impossible to corroborate and therefore illogical," Spock replied evenly, his hands kneading down the sweaty line of Jim's muscular back to his buttocks.
Jim laughed, caressing his ear again. "Oh, man, right there. I do like me some good wallsex, but it tends to leave a guy a little sore, you know? Hey, and Spock?"
The palm on his cheek caused Spock to look up again despite the fact that it was too dark to make out almost anything of Jim's face. "Yes, Jim?"
"You're not gonna do the whole guilty Jim-is-not-a-possession-and-I-am-illogical thing, either. Been there, done that, and I don't wanna spend another month talking you out of vanilla sex and subservience and uber-logical bitchiness on the bridge, okay? I like... belonging to you. Never had somebody who wanted to keep me before."
Spock's hands tightened on Jim's hips, unable to quite express the emotion that flowed through him. "And there will be no reason for you to be kept by anyone other than me, either. Now, please spread your legs."
"What? Spock! Again? I thought I felt you..."
"I am quite satisfied," Spock said, pushing Jim's thighs farther apart as he slid down to his knees on the stone ground. "I will not, however, have you walking out onto that street among the Iiri in such a state. Furthermore, as I have internal genitalia and you do not, you will wear my pants."
"You know, the whole public nudity thing isn't really a matter of how much you got dangling in the-- ohhhhh Jesus fuck Spock yes."
Spock ran his tongue up Jim's inner thigh again, licking away the semen that had streaked it. Above him, Jim twitched and hooked a leg over Spock's shoulder and grabbed for Spock's hair, ostensibly for balance as he wobbled. Thoughtfully, Spock pushed his mate's hips against the wall to steady him before plunging his raspy catlike tongue into Jim's swollen, sloppy entrance and setting to work.
By the time he had finished cleaning Jim to his satisfaction, Jim would be in no state to protest getting dressed. Spock was, after all, Vulcan: he worked thoroughly and his standards were exactingly rigorous.
Judging by the volume of his moans, Jim didn't mind.