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Author's Chapter Notes:

Can be read as either TOS or XI.

This is my entry for the third prompt (NCC-17) over at [info]st_respect's Ship Wars from spring 2010.


Jim always shared his drink and food with his First Officer when they were off the ship on a mission. It was safer that way as Spock was more resilient to any possible poisons and knew what might be dangerous to his Captain. Jim couldn’t say he liked Spock putting himself in harm’s way and felt like some medieval king awaiting his next assassination attempt but had to admit that Spock’s logic was sound and thus accepted it. So when they visited the catlike Laithians with a formal invitation to the Federation, of course Spock was first to sample Jim’s food.

Minutes later, when Jim took his own first tentative bites off the same plate that Spock had tested, Jim didn’t give his action a second thought or notice the sudden focus the room had on them. When their host unexpectedly declared it was time for a grand celebration and called for their finest wine, Jim just assumed that the reason was Laith’s agreement to join the Federation.

Jim certainly hadn’t planned on drinking so much of the wine, but he didn’t note until it was too late to care that no matter how much he drank his glass never emptied. After just a few samples, Spock was literally looking a little green around the gills and leaning heavily against Jim’s side. Who could have known that the Laithians’ wine was derived from a plant with similar characteristics to the pods of Earth’s cacao tree?

As the hours passed with no imminent sign to the end of the revelries, Jim decided that it was well past time to sleep and politely excused them both. Spock was more out of it than Jim had ever seen, a dead weight, swaying on his feet, but somehow Jim managed to stagger them both to Spock’s room.

Guiding Spock to the edge of the bed, intent on tucking the Vulcan in before finding his own room, he wasn’t prepared for Spock to suddenly latch onto him tighter than a limpet and promptly collapse backwards, dragging Jim with him. Jim gave a half hearted tug but was too drunk and tired to care and promptly passed out.

Instead of the expected hammering of dying brain cells trying to escape his skull, Jim awoke with a clear head and a raging hard-on. The hot body against him also wasn’t expected because he certainly didn’t remember sex. It was always such a shame to have sex and not remember it. With curious hands he mapped out the form wrapped around him and was surprised when he found hard plains and sharp angles instead of the soft curves he expected. Curiosity piqued, he cracked his eyes open only to be met by the sight of Spock’s chocolate eyes starting unblinkingly at him.

With a shout Jim scrambled off the bed before realizing that he was naked. He made a move to grab the sheet, then froze, realizing that Spock was under it and probably naked. He fought the sudden urge to cover himself with his hands, and instead settled for sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the sheet across his lap.

Spock just stared at him patiently with one brow raised as if to ask ‘are you done with the theatrics yet?’ before holding out a sheet of paper to him that Jim hadn’t noticed before. While he recognized that the writing was Laithian he couldn’t read it.

“Our intel on Laithian culture seems to have been lacking. Due to the sharing of food that we partook in yesterday evening we are now considered married in accordance with Laithian law. This room is akin to a ‘honeymoon suite’ from Earth but will not open until we have consummated our union. I checked the room thoroughly, and it is comparable to rooms designed for certain occasions on Vulcan. There is no way to beam out.”

Jim’s brain completely skipped over the word ‘marriage’, not willing to dwell on it and instead… “By consummate you mean…?”

“The translation of the Laithian language is still incomplete, so the special nuances and full meanings of their words are not completely understood as of yet. But yes, by my calculations they do mean intercourse.” Spock reached over and rested a hand on Jim’s.

Jim started at the touch, almost pulling away, but when the hand clasped his, he was unable to refuse the contact. His brain wasn’t working fast enough to deal with this. And at that moment he wished fervently that telepathy was a skill he possessed, so he could figure out if this was okay, if Spock was okay, if Spock was just doing this because he had to, or because he wanted it. Because Jim wanted it, had wanted it for so long, but wasn’t stupid enough to ruin one of the best things he’d ever had.

When the blanket was pulled away, Spock pressed him down and Jim went easily without complaining. He couldn’t help but glance down at Spock’s body, finally getting his first glimpse at what he’d only seen in his dreams. Reaching down, he took Spock’s erection in his hand, marveling at the double ridges that ran behind its head and the dark green flush that colored it, grinning in delight as Spock was unable to contain a small gasp and a buck of his hips.

When Jim’s fingers ghosted over the ridges, Spock jumped as if shocked. “Jim, I am unused to being handled in such a fashion. If you keep up your current ministrations, consummation will not be able to happen for at least another 3.7 minutes.”

Jim just grin, in amusement and kept up his ‘ministrations’, taking pleasure in the slight flush that colored Spock’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. Unable to help himself he leaned forward and swirled his tongue across one peak, delighting in the spasm that wracked Spock’s body and the throb from the cock in his hand. “This is the honeymoon suite after all. I think we have more than enough time for that.”

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