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"Infinite combinations of infinite perversity."
—Spock, to Kirk, in Birthday Traditions by [info - personal] corpus_invictus


The captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise was livid.

Not because he accidentally broadcasted his flirting with his Communications Officer to the entire ship. They were heading back to San Francisco from Altair IV, and bridge duty suddenly got boring as hell. If anything, it could be considered mass-market advertising. He was pretty proud of the tag line and in fact could sing it to a jingo: "Once you go Kirk, you never go back."

James T. Kirk had every confidence that it was true. Though his career at Starfleet Academy was a short one (being a genius and all), even as a student he was already exceptionally experienced in xenobiological diversity. Then he got his own sweet ship, and fate handed him a jaw-droppingly good-looking and open-minded crew. So, yeah, he really knew what he was doing, in spades.

Except now apparently the word on the street was, yeah the captain's pretty good, but I've had better. That was the buzz in the hallway, anyway, as he came down to the cafeteria for a lunch meeting with Bones.

"Good God man! Did you sleep with everybody on this ship?" McCoy clearly wasn't sparing him any sympathy, either. The doctor shot him a withering look over steaming lasagna. "Wait, what am I saying? Of course you did. Your dick single-handedly started that STD epidemic after we got back from Xeronk!"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "That is such an exaggeration, Bones. The 'everybody' part, at least. I haven't slept with Spock, or The Cupcake Guy, or you." Yet, he added silently.

"Yeah, and thank God for that." Bones muttered.

The poor man looked so relieved that Kirk just couldn't stop himself. "Well, actually, come think of it.... Uh, I think you were drunk, man, but there was one time, at band camp...."

Bones' eyes twitched. They actually twitched.

"Jim, do you know why I haven't punched you yet?"

"Because you have a deep, abiding respect for your commanding officer and best friend?" Kirk asked innocently, eying the lasagna.

"No, it's only because I don't want to get stuck in sickbay with you."


It got worse from there.

Not only did Bones refuse to share the lasagna ("haul your own lazy ass to the replicator!"), Kirk also found out the culprit behind this smearing of his command image.


That's right. Spock. I-am-Vulcan-therefore-I-have-no-emotions,

finger-touching-is-PDA, get-the-fuck-out-from-my-personal-space-before-I-nerve-pinch-you Commander Spock.

Who, according to this very Enterprise crew, is also commonly known as all-night-long-and-then-some, extraordinary-oral-sensitivity, touch-fucking-telepath, mind-melding-mind-blowing Spock. That Spock gave the best sex anybody on this ship's ever had or would ever have, bar none.

It. Did. Not. Compute.

On top of that, Spock had the balls to look entirely nonplussed about it when Kirk confronted him. Apparently shame was an emotion, too, and Vulcans were totally not down with having that. Instead, Spock took the scientific approach to resolving the problem.

"Captain, I see that you are not at all convinced by the sample of opinions you've taken. Shall we conduct a field experiment to test the common hypothesis?"

It goes without saying that Jim Kirk is prepared to do a lot of things for the advancement of science and interspecies understanding.


The worst part, Jim mused while staring at the ceiling in a sated daze, was that Spock really was that great in bed. No, great wasn't enough to cover it. Try wonderful, or unbelievable, or earth-shattering. Yeah, wonderfully, unbelievably, earth-shatteringly awesome, that's what it was. Fuck.

Once Jim got over mourning for his reputation, he found himself falling in love, just a little.

"Five hundred and seventy-one." He mumbled contently while the Vulcan put on a black shirt at the edge of the bed. Spock turned to look at him with a slightly startled look, but the body language was very much proper now, as if they hadn't just fucked each other through the floor.

"Captain," Spock asked in the everyday bridge voice. "Would that be the number of sexual partners you have tracked over the years?"

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Kirk recovered quickly, however, and flashed his first officer his most charming grin. "Careful there now, Spock. Sex on legs with a brain? I might never let you go."

Spock rose up and walked to the replicator, returning with plomeek soup for himself and hot water for his captain, who was still laying all wasted. He sat down by the bed, watching Kirk gulping down the water.

"I only deduced this because I practice the same." He said amiably, sipping on the soup.

Kirk almost choked.

"What!? You—God, you sick bastard!"

Spock arched an eyebrow and Kirk felt the need to amend that statement a little. "Ok sure, I do it too, but I have a really good reason for it!"


That's such a great word, Kirk realized. You couldn't argue with "indeed." When Spock didn't care to ask the question, he had to supply the answer himself.

"Look, I keep count because....okay, you aren't gonna believe this, but when I joined Starfleet, Pike issued me a challenge. He told me that my father banged eight hundred women and dared me to do better. I guess I took him up on it, except I figured I'd go for some gender diversity."

Spock said nothing, but he didn't seem all that interested in the soup anymore.

"No, seriously, Spock. When we get back to San Fran you can ask the guy yourself!" Kirk sat up in the bed and protested, feeling flushed all the sudden.

"I believe you." Spock said quietly. "The Admiral said something quite similar to myself when I first arrived on Earth. Apparently he knew my Father's diplomatic activities quite well."

".....Oh." Was all he could say. He was glad he's holding the water. It gave his hand something to do. He looked at Spock and wanted to kiss those pointy ears. This was terrible.

Eventually he cleared his throat and said: "I think we need to pay our dear Admiral a visit when we get back. To see how's his recovery going, of course. Since we owe him so much and all."

"I concur." Spock looked strangely pleased, so Kirk just had to lean over and kiss him again.



"Yes, Jim?"

"What's your score at?"

"Five hundred and seventy-two."

"……Dude. Seriously?"

"As I am sure you are aware, Vulcans do not joke."

"Alright. Alright. But fuck, did you sleep with everybody on this goddamned ship?"

"Not with Dr. McCoy."

"……Yeah uh, let's keep it that way. In the mean time, I'm going to hit up the older you the next time we stop at Vulcan Beta. That should even out the score."

"Captain, I question if that should count towards the total."

"Trust me, Mr. Spock. It totally should."


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