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He lay on the bed quietly, anticipation percolating in his abdomen, mixed with just the slightest edge of apprehension.

 

Even with his eyes closed, he could sense precisely where Jim was. He couldn't have lost him if he wanted to. The other's psychic presence was bright-hot on his brain. It was not something he could turn away from, it was why he was there.

 

He recalled saying to Stonn that having was not always as pleasing as wanting. He drove the recollection from his mind and the attending events. He would not let it interfere, besides it was too late by any account. He had wanted for so long he could no longer remember a time when he didn't, and having had a taste only whetted his appetite for more.

 

He sensed his approach.

 

The warm voice asked, “Are your eyes still closed?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Good, no peeking.”

 

“Vulcans do not peek.” His rejoinder more affectionate that the words belied.

 

“I don't believe that for a second. I hope you don't.”

 

He felt the edge of his lips curl without volition. That was what Jim did to him. He could not even maintain a semblance of Vulcan decorum and found repeatedly that he did not care anymore.

 

The bed dipped as the human sat, and a cool hand rested over his heart, the touch startlingly sensitive through his shirt. He exhaled sharply, the simple touch bringing forth sexual desire, but also something more simple, child-like. He wanted to be touched enough to make up for a lifetime lived without love.

 

Human-moist breath caressed his cheek. He turned his head to breathe it, catch it. Alcohols and sugar by-products of life. Now he could sense the distance between their lips, and nearly lifted his head to close it but his own ineptitude stalled him.

 

No matter, the bed shifted again and Jim's weight settled near him. Fingers ran haphazardly over his face and finally cool lips met his. He registered gentle shock to discover how irregular his respiration had become, amongst other physiological abnormalities.

 

His mouth yielded under gentle pressure, and tentatively mimicked Jim's kiss. His mind processed the new textures and tastes. Before he cataloged them all, Jim withdrew.

 

He opened his eyes...

 

 

 

Dr. Leonard McCoy sat up in his bed, more confused than ever. Where was he even? He looked around. Jim's guest bedroom. He gazed out the window unexpectedly present, stared at the marvelous view from way up here, and let his subconscious pull itself back together.

 

Jim. Spock...oh.

 

He sighed. Dreaming about that of all fool things. He was no young buck anymore. Too old to switch teams or dust off 20 year old fantasies.

 

As he sat and mulled it over, it didn't quite come together correctly. He loved Jim and he loved Spock, but never like that, never like that. Spock his nemesis, friend, and fellow officer, but never an object of desire.

 

And Jim. Jim was out of his league to say the least. A person would have to be flat out crazy to get involved with him. Most people could not live up to the ideal set up by his first wife- Enterprise.

 

He began to sift through the dream more closely. It didn't feel like a dream. Too rich and detailed. It felt like a memory, a memory one never wanted to forget, so someone had tried to burn it in their mind.

 

A word drifted through his head.

 

Eidetic.

 

Who did he know that possessed that particular quality?

 

That son-of-a-bitch Vulcan. He narrowed his eyes in thought, and his mind turned unasked to that horrible security tape.

 

Remember.

 

The doctor felt helpless to his own mind. What on Earth had Spock wanted him to remember anyway? He glanced at the clock. Too late to think about this. Too late to do anything, especially for Spock.

 

He was dead and that was that. An old man sighed heavily and laid down with resignation to try and sleep.

 

 

 

Spock remembered clearly when Jim had first asked him to do this thing. This thing that humans liked to do. To say it was illogical was an understatement.

 

Oh, how Jim had used every weapon at his disposal- bribery, begging, exchange, even a few half-hearted threats. Spock stood no chance really. He conceded and set about learning the details.

 

Statistically, it was quite simple. Terrans enjoyed anal sex. Men and women alike, homosexuals and heterosexuals. Lots of them.

 

The first time he laid there, uncertain of the point. It had been a decidedly neutral experience. It felt neither good nor bad. However, even his lackluster performance had pleased Jim. It was the thought that counted, as humans liked to say.

 

But then most unexpectedly it became something else entirely. A pivotal development in his life experience. Jim fucking him, their minds entwining, their bodies meshed, and Spock touched something he had always wanted. And through it he had realized more. He loved to be possessed by this human in every role they played. Captain and officer, friend and lover. In their mental space, Spock dropped all his pretenses, and Jim did, too.

 

When he learned this about himself, it as as if his life had been neatly split down the middle. Before. After. And he wasn't sure he could ever go back to Before.

 

Of course, that had been his true undoing. That which he did not calculate for in his limited Vulcan capacity. Pleasure, insidious pleasure that turned him inside out, had him on his knees begging for what, he did not know sometimes. Just that he had to have it. Jim shamelessly reveled in his pride that he could bring him to this, and delighted in breaking him with a single touch, annihilating his control with lust. And again, he found he did not care. When he and Jim were together, nothing else mattered.

 

Jim had found him out. Beneath his cultivated control, he was a hedonist and Jim relished the opportunity to exploit it. He felt no shame when he recalled the breathless moments when they had been careless, too careless. A fuck in the shuttlecraft, a blowjob in the turbolift.

 

Where Jim lead, he would follow. A moth had no choice but to go to the flame.

 

Memory coalesced.

 

He rubbed his face on the coolness of the linens, ignoring their unfamiliar scent of different laundry soap. His mind tried to latch on to the detail, but Jim's thrust shattered his concentration. One thrust followed another, and another, until he was fucking back with a single-minded intensity. Jim's mental starburst of pleasure collided into his mind, making him come and come until he lost track of who he was. The solid weight of Jim resting against his back was the only thing that seemed to keep him pinned to the bed. They laid together, minds ebbing and flowing together and apart without control. Hanta birds singing outside the open window, a breeze trailing across sweaty bodies.

 

Where was he?

 

Risa, of course, the hotel near...

 

 

 

McCoy snapped his eyes awake, his face flushed he was certain. Jim's kitchen, 8 AM.

 

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

 

He felt like he was losing his mind, completely. Here he was sitting in Jim's damn house, having all of these fantasies, dreams, whatever. He slept fine, felt refreshed honestly, but every time he closed his eyes, or even let his mind wander he felt mentally assaulted by this wave of love and desire and recollection.

 

Three days this had been happening, and it seemed intensified now that he was cooped up in Jim's apartment. Leonard had never kept a residence in San Francisco, and had always gladly accepted staying at Jim's. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea this time. The doctor poured himself another cup of coffee and picked up one of Jim's many books. All he wanted was some peace after everything that had happened.

 

 

 

When the physical became too familiar, then came the games. Like everything else about their relationship, Spock had been surprised to find he liked those as well. Mind games, sex games. Near the end of the first mission, when passion had run high and no wounds had accumulated they began their favorite game.

 

“Who will it be?” Jim whispered. The whisper was a caress, too. Exhaled just so against his ear in a way that made Spock swallow convulsively.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Spock scanned the room, though in truth he had already decided. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, as they often did, in the corner of the large banquet room. Some endless, pointless Starfleet function. When had Spock started thinking of them that way? No matter. Spock flicked his eyes to far corner.


He could sense Jim's agreement immediately. Kat'ara, the attaché to the Agrarrian Sol ambassador. Blond and lithe, she did little to arouse his own appetites, but he felt a surge of desire in Jim.

 

“You'll meet me in my quarters then?” Jim asked unnecessarily.

 

“Of course.” Spock gave a marginal smile. Jim ran his hands discretely up his waist.

 

“I'll see you soon.”

 

Spock went to his Captain's quarters as he had many times, and waited as he had many times. He was not disappointed. Kat'ara and Jim walked in the door, and with little ado began to kiss. Jim used his much practiced skills to bring her to climax before fucking her.

 

Spock loved to watch his Captain fuck. He loved to watch Jim seduce his women, knowing they would never have what he did. It was base, and he wanted to be debauched.

 

Kat'ara cooed and writhed as Jim moved in and out of her. She begged and cried as he pulled out and plunged back in. Finally with a shriek, she was satisfied and Jim ejaculated on her sweaty stomach. After a moment, they cleaned up.

 

“I would offer you more, but regs keep me from letting you stay. I am sure you understand.”

 

Kat'ara smirked. “No doubt, Captain. I wasn't expecting more.” She pecked his cheek, and let herself out.

 

Jim zipped his pants and walked over to where Spock stood.

 

“Did you get what you wanted?”

 

Spock let his eyes reply. Jim chuckled and grabbed the Vulcan's hard cock. “I guess so.”

 

Jim pinned him to the wall, grinding into him, his tongue sensually teasing his lips, in contrast to the force of his hips.

 

“Tell me. Tell me why I do this for you?” Jim's eyes were electric, unavoidable.

 

Spock nipped at Jim's neck, his ears. Said in a low, low voice, “Because I wanted to watch you fuck her. I wanted to see her admiration for you as a reflection of my own. I wanted to see you use her, and see her take her pleasure from you.”

 

He could feel Jim's cock jump against him in excitement, the square hands tugging his ass to bring them closer together.

 

“I'm going to fuck you so hard, you have no idea, Mr. Spock. I was saving it for you. That was just a warm up.” And as usual Jim's declaration shook Spock to the core.

 

As quickly as they could disrobe, he was on his back, Jim jamming his dirty cock up his ass. Fucking him so hard they were riding up the bed, and in a moment the top of Spock's head was rhythmically hitting the wall behind him.

 

“Is this what you wanted?” Jim purred. “Do you feel how hard I am? Does it feel good?”

 

He had no answer but to arch up into him, feeling Jim slip in further. Further, further, harder, harder. Closer to...

 

 

 

The door mechanism betrayed him with a swish. Jim entered the apartment wearing running clothes. Bones was happy that he was taking some exercise in the midst of all these crises. But even that couldn't chase away the haggard shadows on his face. Since Spock... well, needless to say, he really hadn't been the same. A ghost of himself.

 

“Coffee, Jim?” the doctor warmly offered.

 

Jim blinked as if just noticing Bones was there. He smiled and nodded, looking somewhat more anchored but still lost.

 

He poured Jim a cup, which he accepted and sat down in his dirty clothes. Bones hadn't planned to broach the topic but the moment seemed to have arrived without his consent.

 

“Jim?” his voice rough and hesitant. He felt Jim become more alert, focusing on him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Were you and Spock having some kind of affair during the first 5 year mission?”

 

Jim drew his brows together, lips pressed tight. His eyes appraising.

 

“Why would you ask that?”

 

Bones slid his eyes around the bright kitchen guiltily. “Dunno. Just a thought that popped into my head. I was curious. Never mind.”

 

Jim's eyes looked sharp. “No, why did you ask that?”

 

Bones felt his own face harden under the scrutiny. “I dreamed it.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I dreamed it, in vivid detail.”

 

Jim convulsively clenched his jaw. He held it taut for a moment, then spat out a gravelly yes.

 

“Yes, you were having an affair?”

 

“I said yes, didn't I?”

 

“God in heaven, well, that certainly clears up a lot of questions, doesn't it?” Bones marveled. He remembered how much the Spock in his dreams loved Kirk. A person could only love someone that much when they were loved that much, he thought. Was that how Jim loved Spock? The pain that must have brought. And after serving with Jim for so many years he couldn't think of a person more poorly suited to cope with that kind of loss.

 

He put his hand on Jim's casually and patted it. “I'm so sorry.” And he was, God, he really was.

 

“I know,” Jim sighed and stood up, apparently closing the subject. “I'm going to get ready to go to HQ, you should, too. Don't you have some medical appointments?”

 

McCoy blinked rapidly, trying to get his brain in gear. His brain that had become derailed ever since Spock's stupid death in that stupid warp core chamber. He stood up, still distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I do. We should go, get this shit sorted out.”

 

He must have looked confused or something because some gentle emotion Bones couldn't name warmed Jim's worn face. “Come on, old friend. I think we both need to get out of this place.” He clapped his hand on the doctor's thin shoulder. “It might do us good,” he said half to himself, really. Hazel eyes roamed the room, eyes loaded with memory.

 

 

 

 

The human reclined on the oversized white leather sofa. “Do you like it?”

 

It was the only piece of furniture in the new apartment. It sat in the middle of the room, rather haphazardly, except for the fact it faced the large windows that over looked San Francisco bay. Jim sat on it completely nude, his wolf grin calculated for Spock.

 

The Vulcan ran his hand over the smooth leather appreciatively. When he was younger, it would have offended him, but somewhere along the way he had been corrupted. As Jim had been. Jim had given up daily meat, and Spock had taken up the occasional indulgence of it. As the Buddha said, moderation in all things. He gave Jim his Mona Lisa smile of approval, and began to pull open his uniform jacket. His beautiful human pushed his face into the fly of his pants, and the electricity flowed between them.

 

Oh, my bright one...

 

He had no idea if he was speaking aloud or if their minds were simply colliding, so attuned. This moment, he wanted to remember it, forever and ever and

 

“McCoy! Doctor!” Christine chirped. Where? The Academy Medical Labs. Jesus.

 

Her face, older now. “I love you, I do. The Vulcan Mr. Spock, the human Mr. Spock.” He beautiful eyes sparkling with tears. His pangs of regret that he could never return her affections, her kindness.

 

“I'm sorry,” he gasped. “I'm so sorry. I have to. I have to go. Now.”

 

He spun on his heel and left.

 

He fled, he didn't know where. It didn't matter, did it? He was losing his mind. What a strange way to go, thinking about Spock's sex life. Why? What the fuck?

 

He needed a drink. Maybe a Romulan Ale. Drink his brain paralyzed. He walked off the campus. It didn't matter where he went, it didn't matter what he did now. There was no peace.

 

For any of them. Except the grave. And apparently not even then as that son-of-a-bitch was haunting him now. He tipped his head back.

 

Forget.

 

Forget.

 

Forget.

 

 

 

Author's Notes: And you know how it ends! Happiness abound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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