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It had taken six months, 178 chess games, 126 shared meals, a Klingon attack, two near-death experiences on away missions, and a bar of extra-dark chocolate, but Jim Kirk had finally gotten his man—or in this case, his Vulcan. Only the previous evening, the two had finally admitted their desperate attraction to each other. Hell, Jim had admitted that he wanted to settle down on New Vulcan with his love, a house with a huge air-conditioning unit, and an endless supply of Astroglide (“Providing pleasure to couples, trios, and orgies throughout the galaxy since 2022”). Tonight, Spock was finally going to come to Jim’s quarters and surrender his virtue (or as much of it as Uhura had left behind) to the galaxy’s greatest lover (just ask him. He could provide testimonials).


“Thank all the gods for that.” McCoy snorted, when Jim told him over a celebratory drink. “This has been the longest fucking courtship since the last royal wedding. Go on, have fun. You’re young; you’re horny, and you’ve got a clean bill of health and horrible taste in men. Just watch your back the next few days; Uhura’s been learning all kinds of kung-fu shit ever since she and Sulu hooked up, and she might feel she needs to avenge her honor, even if she and Spock aren’t knocking boots anymore.”


“She wouldn’t hurt her captain,” Kirk said confidently. “At McCoy’s expression, he faltered. “Would she?”


“If there were no witnesses, she would,” McCoy chuckled. He made a shooing motion with his hands."Just one more thing.”


Kirk paused at the door.


“Yeah, Bones?”


“Tomorrow morning—I don’t want any details. Not-a-single-one. Pretend I’m your spinster aunt from Des Moines.”


“Bones, my spinster aunt from Des Moines writes online porn.” Kirk grinned. “Maybe I can comm. her and give her some new ideas…”


Bones threw a stylus at him. “Out!”




Jim finally had Spock where he belonged—in his bed—and he was quickly learning that the Vulcan’s talents were not limited to scientific pursuits, unless sucking Kirk’s balls could be classified as a biological experiment.


“Oh God, Spock, don’t stop,” he moaned, arching up into the hot, wet mouth and clever tongue that were driving him wild. Spock stroked Jim’s erection with expert fingers as he gently sucked first one testicle, then the other, into his mouth, rolling them on his tongue like they were delicious fruits. Jim’s hands were cradling Spock’s head, stroking his ears with the tips of his fingers, something he had quickly learned made the Vulcan harder than a titanium rod.


“Ahh, oh, Spock, oh fuck!” Jim was usually more eloquent in bed, but Spock seemed to be sucking his brains right out through his balls, and Jim’s cock was too happy to protest his master’s sudden banalities. Just when Jim thought he’d die if he didn’t come, Spock raised himself up and plunged his mouth over Jim’s aching dick, sucking him deep into Spock’s throat and fondling his wet balls with long, super-heated fingers. Jim came with a cry of mingled delight and regret. He fell back, completely drained. I’ll need a little recovery time before I can get inside him, he thought. Oh, well. I’ll suck him, and by then I’ll be ready to go… His happy thoughts stopped abruptly as he felt Spock spread his legs and brush his fingers, coated with some kind of lube, against Kirk’s ass. Kirk squirmed. The sensation was oddly pleasing, but Kirk didn’t go that way. He was the man on top in every encounter, and he thought Spock knew that.


“Hey,” he said, lifting his head. “What are you doing?” His lover looked up, raising one quizzical eyebrow. Even in bed, Spock was all Vulcan.


“I am preparing your body before I penetrate you,” he said calmly. “I do not want to hurt you, and you will enjoy the experience much more if your muscles are relaxed and pliant.” He began to stroke Kirk again, but Jim jerked away, sitting up in bed and closing his legs.


“Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you, not the other way around.”


“You are not,” Spock said, still calmly. “You have already climaxed, which is fair because I did not want to make you wait until I had achieved orgasm. I am ready to engage in copulation now. As the superior partner, it is only logical that I be the one…”


“What the fuck did you just say?” Kirk couldn’t believe his ears. “Superior, my ass.”


“You ass is indeed superior, much more rounded, muscular, and aesthetically pleasing than mine,” Spock conceded, “which is another reason why it is logical that I penetrate you. My penis, in contrast, is much better equipped for anal copulation, since it is self-lubricating and of sufficient length and diameter to reach your…”


“No, no way. I don’t do that, and I can’t believe you thought I would.” Kirk pulled his knees to his chest and glared at Spock, who was crouched at the foot of the bed, his erection no longer the only angry-looking part of his anatomy.


I cannot believe that you would coax me into bed, arouse me, allow me to give you an orgasm, and then refuse me release,” Spock said, frowning. “There is a term among you humans, ‘cock tease,’ which I am beginning to suspect is an apt description of your behavior.” He moved forward even as Kirk retreated further.


“I don’t give a fuck what you think,” Kirk snapped. “I’m willing to ‘give you release,’ you snotty bastard, but you’re not fucking me. I’m not your bitch.”


“No,” Spock snapped back, plainly enraged. “You are a spoiled brat, and there is only one way to treat you.” He lunged and grabbed Kirk’s wrists, yanking him closer and then pressing him to the mattress using his greater mass and strength. Kirk struggled, feeling Spock’s angry arousal rubbing hard against his belly, feeling his own prick coming to life despite his anger. Kirk was emotionally torn, furious, aroused, and reluctant all at once. He knew that if Spock forced him, there was little he could do to stop him, but he still fought.


“Get off me, you son-of-a-bitch,” he hissed. “That’s an order.”


“You do not give orders here,” Spock seethed. “You wanted this; now you will have it.” He forced Jim’s legs apart. Kirk could feel him maneuvering into position, the tip of his cock pressing against Jim’s hole.


Kirk went completely still, looking up at Spock, his blue eyes hard and cold.


“Go ahead then,” he said quietly. “Make me your bitch, if that’s what you want. But enjoy it, Commander, because it will be the first and only time.”


It was as if someone had poured six liters of cold water over Spock’s head (something no one on this ship would have dared to do, since the Vulcan’s catlike aversion to water was well-known). Spock froze, looking down at the human pinned beneath him, realizing that he was trying to assault the man he—loved. A sick shudder tore through him. He leaped off the bed, grabbed his clothes, and fled through their shared bathroom, ignoring Jim’s cry of “Spock! Wait! Let’s talk about…” as the door slid shut. Kirk slumped back on his pillow, staring forlornly at his freshly raging hard-on.


“Fuck,” he said angrily.


Not tonight, thanks to you, his frustrated cock answered.




The next five days were forever enshrined in Enterprise lore as “The Week Both the Captain and First Officer Became the Biggest Dicks in the Universe and Not in a Good Way.” Every day, Kirk thought of a new way to make somebody miserable, whether it was ordering all caffeinated drinks taken out of the crew mess because he “really can’t stand all these goddamned chipper people at 07-fucking-hundred” or making Bones personally count every tampon and anal suppository on board for the third time. Every day, Spock thought of new ways to make “Your data is unsatisfactory” sound like “Go run that scan again, and this time, don’t come back with that limp-dick excuse for a solution, or I’ll pull your balls off, dip them in silicone, and turn them into a fashionable yet functional paperweight.” McCoy was passing out tranquilizers in direct proportion to how often the individual in question had to come in contact with Kirk or Spock. By the end of the week, the entire command team was begging for an IV of Tri-Valium or a phaser blast to the head, whichever one would put them out longer.


Despite all the “fun” they were having tormenting the crew, Kirk and Spock were miserable, too. Their former easy companionship was gone, and their interactions consisted solely of such banalities as, “Scan the area, Mr. Spock” (Oh, how Kirk wanted to say that about his dick) and “The area seems ideal for exploration, Captain” (Oh, how Spock wanted to say that about Kirk’s dick). By the end of the week, something had to give, and it was McCoy’s patience. Making sure he was out of earshot of a certain sneaky First Officer, McCoy made a call to New Vulcan.


Very late that evening, Spock lay in his quarters staring at the ceiling, which he had been doing with far too much regularity in the last five days. For the first time, he wondered why there were no paintings on ceilings—with the exception of the Sistine Chapel, of course, and the Palace of T’varkh on Old Vulcan, which had been destroyed. Perhaps he needed to learn to paint. Perhaps creating a mural of the moment when he tried to strangle Jim on the Bridge would cheer him up. Spock sighed. Or perhaps not. He really didn’t want to strangle his almost-lover, unless of course that aroused Jim. Spock had read enough on human sexuality (purely for intellectual enrichment, naturally) to know that was a possibility. However, it appeared that he was never going to have an opportunity to put any of his recent research into practice. Since Spock was a dedicated scientist, this waste of perfectly good research really pissed him off.


The comm. on his desk chimed with that particular note that indicated he was receiving a call from outside the ship. Hoping (even though hope was illogical) it was not his father (Sarek was hardly amusing at the best of times), he got up and flipped on his viewer. It wasn’t his father. It was Spock, the other Spock, the Spock who had managed to get along with his Jim, the Spock who had managed to lay his Jim.  On the Enterprise, Spock was beginning to wonder just which one of Vulcan’s pantheon of gods had decided to fuck with his life.


“Ambassador,” Spock said formally.


“Youngling,” the elder Spock said affectionately.


The “youngling” gritted his teeth. He hated it when Spock did that, which, of course, is exactly why the old Vulcan persisted.


“May I help you?” Spock asked.


“No; I am calling to help you,” his elder replied. “I understand that your first attempt at coitus with James was, shall we say, anti-climatic?” The old eyes were twinkling. Twinkling! What kind of a Vulcan had twinkling eyes? One who had spent half a century with a human who insisted on helping him develop a sense of humor, his older counterpart could have told him.


“I do not think that is your business,” Spock said stiffly, glaring at his elder as much as he dared, consistent with respect, of course.


“Indeed it is not,” the older Spock said promptly. “However, I care for both of you, and I do not like to see you unhappy. And you are unhappy,” he added softly, looking across the vastness of space at his young counterpart.


Spock slumped. How could he armor himself against that? “Yes,” he admitted, looking very young and very unsure. “Your information, which I assume came from Dr. McCoy, (who should mind his own business), is correct.”


“I assume Jim wanted to top?”


Spock’s mouth dropped open so fast that his elder counterpart was privately afraid it might unhinge. “How did you know that?”


The elder Spock smiled gently. “Youngling,” he said quietly, “for more than fifty years, I was bonded to the most intelligent, courageous, loving, stubborn, arrogant, infuriating, know-it-all, hormone-driven individual in the known universe. I am willing to believe that there is no aspect of your relationship with this Jim that I did not experience a variation of with mine.”


“I…see,” the younger Spock replied.


“Now,” the elder said briskly, “I will hypothesize that you wished to take the dominant, active role in intercourse because you feel that your superior strength and agility, not to mention the non-existent refractory time and the self-lubricating penis of the Vulcan male, make you the logical choice.”


Spock’s (young) ears were turning pine-green. “Yes,” he said in a very small voice.


“And Jim, being an alpha male human with an ego only slightly smaller than his genitals, which, if they are anything like my Jim’s were, are impressive indeed…”


“Elder!” Spock’s ears had gone from pine to emerald, and the rest of his face was fast following suit.


“Yes, I know. I am violating the Rules of Privacy. I am the most unacceptable Vulcan you have ever met. As the humans would say, yadda, yadda, yadda.” The old Spock’s lips twitched. “That does not change the fact that plain speaking is called for.” He shrugged. “Youngling, it would be inappropriate for me to tell you what sexual activities you should indulge in; however, I will say this.” He looked closely at the younger man. “If you are reluctant to allow Jim to penetrate you because you feel it would somehow make you less ‘masculine,’ then you have an unfortunate view of what constitutes masculinity. There is nothing more manly than gratifying one’s partner. And I think that if you were to try it, you would discover that there is immense satisfaction to be found in simply letting go and allowing someone else to take the lead.” He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. “Think about it, my counterpart. Live long and prosper.”


The screen went dark. Spock sat in his cabin for a long time, thinking about it.        






“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just fuck him already! The two of you have been mooning around after each other like Bella and Edward, and I for one am sick of it!” Not many people knew that Leonard McCoy was well-versed in classical literature, so he liked to drop in an allusion every now and then just to amaze them. Jim was sitting in McCoy’s office, mooching his booze and moaning about Spock, which was apparently his new favorite pastime. Frankly, McCoy had enjoyed it more when Kirk’s new favorite pastime had been collecting exotic venereal diseases. Those, at least, McCoy could cure.


“I want to fuck him!” Jim yelled. “The problem is he wants to fuck me!”


“So? For fuck’s sake, I’ve seen his dick often enough to know he’s got a prize-winning piece of equipment there. If I ever decided to bat for the other team, I can promise you, I’d be loading up a hypo with chocolate liqueur and lurking outside his quarters. And knowing his fucking superior intellect, he’s probably researched, memorized, and diagramed every erogenous point on the human anatomy.”


Kirk flushed, remembering the exquisite feel of Spock’s mouth on his balls. “That’s not the point,” he said feebly.


“Then what is the point?” McCoy stopped, looking closely at his friend. “Are you worried it’ll hurt?” he asked more quietly. “Look, Jim, take it from a doctor; you’d be surprised just now elastic that orifice is. And I’ve got some lube that would help a shuttlecraft slide into a Jeffries tube.”


“It’s not the pain, Bones.” Kirk smiled slightly, reminiscently, thinking of a few past lovers with adventurous tastes.


“I figured,” McCoy grinned tightly. “I’ve seen those paddle marks on your ass when you came back from shore leave on Risa.”


“Bones, I told you, it was a birthday party,” Jim protested unconvincingly.


“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t your birthday, so how did you end up with the bruises?”


‘Never mind.” Jim looked down at his lap. “It’s just…I don’t want him to think…I mean, I’m not a girl.


“Oh, Hell,” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Is that it? Jim, putting your legs in the air for Spock isn’t going to make you grow a pussy. After all, nailing a sheep didn’t turn you into a shepherd, did it?”


“That goddamned Uhura,” Jim muttered. “Bones, for the last time, I never fucked a sheep.”


“Only because you’re allergic to wool, I’m guessing.” Jim flushed. His CMO knew him too damned well.


“Whatever. The point is, I’m not going to be Spock’s bitch. I’m not losing my manhood.” Not even to the most wonderful, sexy, hot Vulcan in the universe? His dick asked plaintively. Shut up, he told it. I don’t need your nagging.


“Jim,” McCoy was completely exasperated, “you are the manliest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met. Your balls are so big you should have a separate anti-grav unit to carry them. Klingon warriors piss themselves at the sound of your name. You could pop a girl’s cherry from three feet away, just by looking at her. You couldn’t be feminine if we stripped you naked, rolled you in glitter, and popped a pink tutu over your head.” He pressed the jar of lube into Kirk’s hand. “Now get your ass down to your quarters and spread yourself for that horny, pissed-off Vulcan of yours before your entire crew kills you, Spock, or both.”


“Jesus, Bones,” Kirk was choking with laughter. “I never thought I’d hear you tell me to go fuck Spock!”


“I’m not,” McCoy snapped. “I’m telling you to go get fucked.” He smiled sweetly. “You can believe that, can’t you, sir?”




Jim walked back towards his quarters. As he walked, he tried to think of a way to coax Spock back into bed. Frankly, considering the disaster their first night had been, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to persuade Spock to give it another try. Immediately, Jim felt depressed. Why didn’t I just let him have his way? He thought miserably. It took me six months to get him into my bunk, and I ruined it with my stupid fucking ego in 10 minutes. He decided not to go back to his quarters after all. He couldn’t spend another night lying on his bunk alone, knowing that Spock was just two walls away. Maybe I’ll go look at the stars for awhile, he decided. There’s a couch on the Observation Deck; I can catch a few hours’ sleep.




Spock had not been able to sleep. The more he thought about what his elder had said, the more logical it seemed to be. There was no shame in pleasing one’s partner. In fact, one could argue that as the ship’s First Officer it was positively Spock’s duty to ensure that his commanding officer was calm, relaxed, and clear-headed, and Spock knew from his reading that nothing relaxed the human male more than an orgasm—or two, or maybe even three.


Spock sighed. There was little chance of that. After the disaster that their first night had been, he doubted that Jim would ever let him within two feet of his impressive (the elder Spock had been quite correct) genitalia again. The very thought made Spock feel worse. He decided that there was no point in lying in his bunk, knowing that Jim was only a few meters away, yet completely out of reach. He decided to go to the Observation Deck. Looking at the stars always seemed to relax him, and he needed very little sleep anyway.




Kirk slipped onto the Observation Deck, not the main one next to the Rec area, but the small, private one that was traditionally reserved for the command team as a place to get away. He and Spock had spent many hours there, looking at the wonders of the universe, talking or not talking as the mood took them…Jim stopped in his tracks as a slim, dark figure turned from his spot in front of the viewing area.


“Jim,” Spock said tentatively.


“Oh. Oh, hey, Spock.” Jim started backing towards the door. “Look, I didn’t know you were here. I don’t want to disturb you; I can go somewhere else or…” He stopped again as Spock reached out one hand to him.


“Please, Jim,” Spock said softly. “I would…I would very much like you to stay.”


Something inside Jim melted at the sound of that gentle plea. All of the anger and frustration of the last five days drained out of him, leaving him almost shaking with the feelings of relief that swept through him. He moved forward and took Spock’s hand, twining their fingers together and allowing Spock to draw him closer. He reached up and brushed the knuckles of his other hand along Spock’s jaw in a whisper-soft caress.


“Spock, I’m sorry that I…” He got no further.


“No, Jim, no. It is I who am sorry.” Spock looked as guilty as a Vulcan possibly could. “When I think that I almost…”Spock dropped his eyes, suddenly unable to even look at Jim.


Jim simply drew his Vulcan into his arms, holding him close and relishing the feel of that hot, slim body pressed against him. He reached up and began to soothingly stroke the back of Spock’s neck, rubbing his cheek against the warm, velour-covered chest.


“It’s all right,” he murmured. “You were right; I was being a cock tease, and I don’t blame you for getting angry. You didn’t hurt me, at least not until you walked out. Please Spock, can we please try again?” He took a deep breath and looked directly into Spock’s eyes. “If you still want to…I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than feeling you inside me, being filled with you, surrounded by you, drowning in you.”


“Jim.” Spock shuddered. Pulling Jim closer, he captured his mouth in a tender, blazing kiss that had both men hard in mere moments. Jim drew back, gasping for breath.


“Come on,” he said to his favorite Vulcan. “Let’s go to my place.”




Once they were in Jim’s quarters, it took them very little time to be precisely where they had been five days ago. Jim moaned into Spock’s mouth as he once again felt the Vulcan’s hot, clever fingers seeking out every tender spot on Jim’s body, stroking his eager penis (which had finally forgiven Jim for his stupidity) until Jim was thrusting mindlessly into Spock’s grip. He gasped as he felt Spock’s mouth leave his and blaze a trail of sweet fire down his neck and chest, latching onto first one, then the other tender nipple, licking, sucking, and gently scoring both with his teeth until Jim was sure he would come just from that sensation alone. Jim groaned as he felt Spock’s arousal, hot and throbbing as it rose against Jim’s thigh. He reached down and wrapped one hand around that magnificent shaft, eliciting a heartfelt moan from Spock as he felt the cool human fingers against his scorching flesh. Jim reached up with his other hand and managed to grab the jar of lube McCoy had given him. Popping the top off with one thumb (clever design, he thought fuzzily. He would have never been able to unscrew the lid with one hand, and his other hand was having far too much fun to help). He scooped out some of the cool gel and let the container roll aside and rest against the pillows. He reached down and began to stroke the lube into Spock’s flesh, feeling Spock shudder as he felt the cooling gel.


“Oh…oh, Jim. That feels so good.” Spock’s hips were working up and down, and his shaft seemed to swell even harder in Jim’s grip. Jim was sure neither of them was going to be able to last much longer.


“Spock,” he gasped. “Put…put some of the gel in me. Please, hurry.” He tossed his head on the pillow, writhing in sweet agony as Spock stoked his erection once again, letting his fingers trail all the way down to the shaft until his knuckles rubbed against Kirk’s aching balls. His other hand reached down and took hold of Kirk’s, removing the lubed fingers from his cock and guiding them to the tender entrance of Spock’s body as he rolled over on his back, taking Kirk with him and spreading his legs, giving Kirk’s fingers easy access.


“No, Jim, no,” Spock rubbed himself against those fingers. “I…I want you…inside me.” He moaned as Kirk’s index finger, without any conscious effort on Kirk’s part, slipped inside his channel. Now it was Kirk’s turn to moan as he felt Spock impale himself on Jim’s fingers, pulling the second one in as easily as the first and riding them hungrily. Spock’s passage was so hot, tight, and moist that Jim could only imagine how good it would feel around his shaft. Their cocks were now rubbing against each other, Spock’s coating Kirk’s with a mixture of the gel and his own natural lubrication.


“You…you want me inside you?” Kirk, gasped, amazed.


“Yes, oh, yes, please now, Jim. Do not make me beg thee, now!”


“Yes, Spock, yes!” Jim lined himself up and began to gently, slowly push into Spock’s body. But Spock wasn’t interest in gentleness. He thrust upwards with all his strength, allowing Jim to sink into him with one smooth glide.


Jim had never felt anything like it. Instantly, his intention to take it slow vanished. He plunged deeply into Spock, crying out in ecstasy as he felt his lover’s passage ripple around him, massaging his whole cock with a rhythmic pulsation that was indescribable. Kirk thrust deeper, feeling Spock arch up against him as Jim’s cock hit his prostate. Jim thrust again and again, hitting that sweet spot and feeling Spock’s own shaft, hard between their bellies, throb and pulse.


“Oh, oh Jim,” Spock gasped. “I…I was wrong. Your penis is of more than…than sufficient length to…Ohhhh!” He cried out as he came in a flood, clutching Kirk to him as if he would never let go. The sight and feel of Spock, his face contorted in pleasure, his whole body undulating in Kirk’s arms, his hot, silken ass griping and milking Kirk’s erection, was too much for Jim’s control. With a final thrust, he buried himself inside his love and let his own release sweep through him.


Kirk collapsed on Spock’s body, his head dropping onto the Vulcan’s shoulder as he fought to catch his breath. He could still feel Spock’s shivers as his lover savored the aftershocks that rolled through him. Finally, Kirk raised his head and captured Spock’s lips in a long, tender kiss. “Thank you,” he finally whispered against Spock’s mouth.


“The pleasure was all mine,” Spock murmured tenderly.


“No, it wasn’t,” Kirk assured him. He fell asleep almost at once, still lying on top of Spock, wrapped in his arms and wanting to be nowhere else.




Kirk awoke to the exquisite sensation of a cool, damp cloth lovingly bathing him, wiping oh so carefully across his sensitive penis and drained balls. He opened his eyes to see Spock kneeling next to him, tending to him, with a tender look on his face that Kirk had never seen before.


“Hey,” Jim said sleepily, holding out his arms, “come here, you.”


Spock laid the towel aside and slid into Jim’s embrace, laying his head on his love’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Kirk began to stroke the glossy black hair, allowing his fingers to wander and fondle the point of one silken ear. Spock murmured with pleasure, and Jim’s heart swelled with fresh love for this amazing being in his arms.


“I don’t get it,” he murmured. “I thought you wanted to be on top.”


He felt Spock kiss his neck. “I did,” his lover admitted. “But I talked to…a friend…who explained that letting go of my control…was a liberating experience and that pleasing one’s partner was what mattered, not who took which position.”


Jim smiled to himself. He could guess who Spock’s ‘friend’ was. I owe that man a ten pound box of chocolates, he thought.


“I got similar advice,” he admitted, “and I’m sorry it took me so long to understand.” He hesitated for a moment. “Spock,” he murmured, “why don’t we…take turns?”


His lover lifted his head to look Jim in the face. “You mean alternate positions?”


“Yeah; I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I topped tonight, so tomorrow is your turn, and then I’ll top again, and then…” he broke off with a stifled moan as he suddenly felt Spock’s fingers find and pinch his nipple and Spock’s arousal slide deliciously against his sleeping (but quickly awakened) prick.


“If I take my turn tonight,” his lover whispered throatily, “you can have another turn tomorrow, as can I. We will have twice as many turns in half as much time.”


“Yeah, yeah,” Jim moaned as Spock’s fingers started stroking against his tender, puckered opening, making his whole ass ache with sweet pain. He began to move against those fingers. “Spock…Spock…you’re a genius.”


“I know,” Spock murmured. And he set about proving it…again and again.







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