The most annoying thing about T’era was that whenever she spoke, she addressed only Spock, and often talked about the annoyance of human existence. “Spock, why do you persist in spending not only your work but also your extracurricular time with humans? Their emotion is overwhelming and illogical.”
Jim gaped. I’m at the table, goddamnit., he thought to himself. And where exactly was the logic in sitting maybe three millimeters away from Spock? Conserved body heat? “Actually, the display of emotion is eminently logical.”
“Excuse me if you are offended, but I was not addressing you.”
“Sometimes it’s good to learn from others. Captains of starships, for example.” Time to pull out the big words. “The majority of the people serving on this particular starship are amenable to emotion, and they use it often as a means of social communication. In the Standard language, certain words can have multiple meanings and it is only with emotional cues like body language and tone that a more precise definition can be reached.
“Emotion is the only way that we can sincerely express our desires. How can you communicate with others if you can’t communicate your needs? And - sometimes we need to communicate without using words at all; this comes in handy on away missions. On the other hand, without emotion, communication can be severely hindered. Hence,” oh, damn, good word there, “emotional display is not only reasonable, but the only way you can live a logical life without it is if you cease all contact with other beings.
“If you so despise emotion, perhaps you should consider that kind of existence.”
If nothing else, he had obtained her attention. T’era was now looking at him straight in the eyes, somehow managing to convey anger without changing her facial features. She made as if to speak, but Spock interrupted her preemptively.
“T’era, it will be best if we continue our previous conversation privately. Come.” Spock threw an indecipherable look at Jim, and he was certain that if it were acceptable in Vulcan culture, Spock would have forcibly grabbed her, as she was now attempting to incinerate Jim with her eyeballs.
“Chess later, Commander Spock?” he ventured.
“Enhance image by thirty megapixels, Sulu?”
Space was actually kind of a boring place in between fighting Klingons, discovering new species, and saving humanity as one knows it. Jim thought it was kind of like the military during wartime – hurry up and wait.
So, he usually kept a PADD chock full of reports he didn’t technically need to read but enjoyed glancing over, admnistrivia from Starfleet, or porn. It was immensely interesting, then, that the one (statistically improbable) shift during which he was not looking at pornography that he suddenly became instantly, achingly hard.
What the fuck?
During a crisis, a Captain had to trust his First Officer. It was normal, then, for Kirk to glance over towards the science station to see if Spock had any insight. It was not normal for Spock to have insight, given that Jim had very cleverly used his PADD to cover himself, which perhaps might have been more effective had it not been made out of a clear material.
“Captain, I hypothesize it would be beneficial for you to visit Sickbay. You do not look in the best of health.”
At this, Checkov turned around and looked at Jim, furrowing his brows, but turning back to the navigation console after only a brief perusal of the Captain’s chair. Jim thought he heard him mutter, “Happens to the best of us.”
“Guess I’ll have to trust your judgment on that one, Spock. Uh, thanks.”
“My judgment is infallible and I give you leave to utilize it more often in the future.”
Turbolift error 347A. Please wait calmly and listen for directions. The turbolift will self-repair in 2 minutes and 43 seconds in 2 minutes and 42 seconds in –
“Override code thirty-three gamma, turbolift mute. Voice authorization,” Jim gasped, completely perplexed as to how he only managed to get harder at the sound of the Enterprise computer.
The screen on the side of the right door panel flashed “Granted,” but Jim could pay it no attention. The only image perpetrating his head was that of his First Officer, standing smugly with his hands folded neatly behind his back, demanding trust in that unquestionable tone. God, it was so embarrassing, Spock - wonderful beautiful amazing Spock whom he had tried so hard to impress by refraining from even a mention of sex – knew that he was rock hard, standing in the turbolift right now, and he probably even knew that there was an error and that he was about to come at any goddamn minute. What would Spock even do with that kind of information? Would he confront Jim about it, explain that this kind of problem was unbefitting of a Captain? Would he remain silent? Would he think about - dear god, please please please, let him think about it –
Engineering deck for repair. Error 347A terminated.
The turbolift doors opened, Scotty being treated to the sight of his commanding officer slumped against the back of the turbolift, one hand clutching the rail, one hand desperately holding a PADD against the mess in his pants to try and cover it up.
“Oh, Captain. I’m sure you love the Enterprise, but would you mind going into the ‘fresher afterwards?”
Stepping out of the refreshment module with a towel wrapped around his hips, Jim was able to tell immediately that something was wrong – he was not alone in his quarters. The qualifications for being a Starship Federation Captain were high, and being able to instinctively sense danger was an important part of the process. Spock sitting at his desk, fingers toying with a knight, in broad artificial daylight, did not hinder his deduction either.
“Oh, you’ve um. Horsey. Ahem. Right. I see you’ve set up the chess board, Mr. Spock.” Jim said, in his best authoritative tone (it nearly rivaled Spock’s best relaxed tone). He found that staring at the floor was not conducive to authoritativeness, and made an effort to look at Spock’s eyes, finding instead that Spock was perusing his body. Right. Towel. “… and I should put some clothes on,” he added, nodding to himself.
Spock did not respond, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow and return the knight to its proper place.
It was at this point in time that Jim found himself in a bit of an awkward conundrum. The refreshment module was just that – for refreshment; it contained a sonic-hydro shower, toilet, and sink, but no mirror and little space to move around in, unless you were in the shower, which, of course, turned on automatically. (He could conceivably turn on the sonic shower and try to ignore it while changing, but the noise was not insignificant and he couldn’t imagine what Spock would think of him coming out of the shower only to go back in.)
However, the vanity and personal desk were located in such a way that Spock would be able to see him clearly, and he didn’t want to offend his best officer, or demonstrate that even after an incredible and completely inexplicable orgasm in the turbolift, he still managed to get half-hard at the sight of Spock relaxing in Jim’s quarters. The bed itself was located behind a mesh divider, but with no space around it which was hidden from the view of the office desk – maybe if he got on the bed and changed…
“Oh, fuck – um, yes. Of course. Definitely. What?”
Jim turned around, only to find that Spock was standing directly in front of him, definitely far within the boundaries of his personal space. His first instinct would have been to move back, but Spock had been the one to approach him – normally, he would have to stop himself from getting too close to his first officer, knowing he was out of line when a well-aimed eyebrow was sent his way.
“I find that I must excuse my actions earlier today. I did not expect them to have such a rapid or intense response.” Jim found it difficult to concentrate when Spock’s voice slunk down to a much lower, softer register than he normally used, but he tried hard to assimilate Spock’s words.
“Wait, that was – I felt – you did that?” Jim knew he wasn’t entirely coherent, but, looking into Spock’s eyes, he had no doubt that the other man knew exactly what he was talking about, and, even more surprisingly, he felt himself shuffling impossibly closer to Spock, as if drawn by magnetic force.
“I am responsible, Captain.” Spock looked down. Oh shit he looked down; please think about dead puppies, dead puppies, dead - “Jim,” he corrected himself, bringing his gaze and his hands up, touching Jim’s shoulders faintly.
“I’m sorry I bitched out your girlfriend,” Jim blurted, somewhat awkwardly, finding that his hands were already reaching towards Spock’s hips.
The corner of Spock’s mouth turned upwards. “Jim,” he repeated, before closing the minute distance between them and taking his mouth in a gentle kiss. He slowly pressed forward, tracing his tongue along Jim’s lips, softly sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it. “I hope I am communicating my desires accurately,” he rumbled.
“Yes, please.” Jim inched his fingers up Spock’s shirt reverently, brushing his fingertips across his spine before silently asking Spock to take it off. Spock humored him, and after removing his shirt, he, still holding Jim by the biceps, maneuvered them closer to the bed. He raised an eyebrow at Jim, tilting his head towards the towel.
“Oh, I see how it is. You just want me for my hot ass, don’t you?” Jim smirked as he dropped the towel and lay back on the bed, pulling Spock down on top of him before he had a chance to make a rebuttal. “Can you at least take off your shoes? You’re in my bed, you know, it’s rude to just jump in there without at least taking your shoes off.”
Jim grinned widely as Spock pushed himself up with both arms and kicked off his boots hastily, all while staring Jim straight in the eye. He leaned forward and kissed Jim again, letting his body weight hold him down. Jim thrust his hips up, moaning at the feel of his dick pushing up against Spock’s belt, bringing his hands down to scramble madly at it. Spock pulled away from their kiss and smirked down at him, lifting his hips marginally so that Jim could slide his remaining clothes off, using his feet to push down the legs of the pants. “Come on, Spock, give me a break, you’re driving me crazy here; I’m - mm - set to burst.”
“If you feel you are in need of medical attention, perhaps it is best to reschedule?” Spock teased, keeping his face close to Jim’s but denying his attempts to initiate a kiss.
Finally, Jim seized his mouth passionately, running his hands up Spock’s back and digging down so that their whole bodies pressed together, writhing and twisting, but staying in largely the same position. “Oh, I’m in need of some attention, all right, but something tells me I want your help more than Chapel’s.”
Spock ground his hips against Jim’s, then frowned, paused, looked to his left and right, before reaching under Jim’s spare pillow and retrieving the lube. “I wish to – ”
“Yes. Fuck, Spock, I’m going to be useless in about five minutes, so you should hurry the fuck up.”
Slicking his fingers up and sliding down to be at chest-level, Spock replied, “Is your continued use of that jargon intended to be arousing, or is it accident? If it is the former, I must inform you that,” he licked Jim’s nipple and slowly pushed two fingers into Jim’s ass, “I prefer your use of my given name.”
He used his other hand to toy with one of Jim’s nipples, gently biting the other, all while relentlessly scissoring two fingers inside of Jim, brushing his prostate on every other stroke. “Fuck, Spock, you have no idea what you do to me.”
Brushing his fingers against Jim’s ribcage and feeling the thrum of two minds perfectly in tune with each other’s desires, Spock slanted one eyebrow up and said, “I do.” He then used his vantage point to bite and suck an immense hickey onto Jim’s chest under his nipple, scraping none-too-gently with his teeth while adding a third finger and pressing directly against his prostate.
“Sp – sp – augh!” Jim’s back arched off of the bed as he came, his arms swinging out to push against the bedspread, knocking the lube slightly to the side, and turning his head into the cool side of the pillow, groaning loudly when his back relaxed against the mattress. “Mm! Oh,” he whimpered as Spock pressed lightly again at his prostate, not having taken out his fingers.
Giving Jim a moment to recover, Spock looked to him for permission before taking his legs underneath his arms and sliding into Jim’s warmth, closing his eyes as he did so.
“Spock,” Jim breathed, reaching a hand up to brush a thumb against Spock’s eyebrow, curving it against his neck and leaning in to kiss him, “come on. Give it to me.”
Spock breathed out sharply and looked at Jim, a wild look in his eye, as if he were afraid of the depth of his own emotion. “You won’t hurt me, Spock. I can take whatever you’ve got. I want to take it – all of you, whatever you have to give me, I want it, Spock.” He thrust in sharply, brushing against Jim’s prostate at every stroke, bringing him to a previously deemed improbable third erection.
“Everything,” Spock answered as he reached a hand, still slightly sticky with lube, to tug at Jim’s cock.
They moved together sharply, wanting to go as slowly as possible, to savor the moment, but it was impossible to do so with the sound of Spock’s cock slickly moving inside of him, the pants and whimpers coming from Jim at every thrust, the sheer energy pulling them higher and higher until Spock stopped, and thrust into Jim a final time - so hard that the bed, which was attached to the wall at the headboard, creaked back on its springs. He squeezed Jim’s dick so tightly that the only two options were to start crying, or come, and Jim sure as fuck didn’t want to cry during his first time with Spock.
Spock carefully slipped out of Jim, pushing his legs back into a prone position and turning both of them onto their sides, but retaining a hand on the upper part of Jim’s thigh. He unceremoniously pulled the rumpled covers over them, not bothering to pick up the lube which had now dropped to the floor.
“Oh, yeah, Spock. I’d say you’re a successful communicator.”